As anyone who is even a tiny bit of a film boffin will know, the plot is about a man who gets insomnia because he is emasculated by his boring life. Then Brad Pitt turns up and it all gets really interesting. Anyway the major plot twist is that Brad Pitt is actually *SPOILER* imaginary *END OF SPOILER*. He's everything that Ed Norton's character isn't, and he represents everything that Ed Norton's character wishes he could be.
This got me musing about what MY Fight Club alter-ego would be like. Obviously my Fight Club alter-ego would be more attractive than me, but I think that is a given for all Fight Club alter-egos, everywhere. Other than that, I could only really come up with two things. I can't decide whether this makes me very boring or very content. Anyway, here they are:
1. My Fight Club alter-ego would be able to complain. Properly. I cannot complain properly, which means that I always end up putting up with bad service or shoddy goods whilst tutting to myself and feeling cross instead of actually raising the issue with someone. The closest I have come to ever actually complaining was phoning my accommodation service in second year to tell them not to send me any more threatening letters. (They thought I owed them money but I didn't, and I had told them this.) When the woman picked up the phone I actually ASKED if I could make a complaint. I literally said 'Can I make a complaint please?'. And the woman on the other end was bemused and said 'Er...' Then when I had permission to make my complaint I said something along the lines of 'This really er... isn't on. Sorry.'
My Fight Club alter-ego would not have done this. She would have phoned the office and said something like 'I know my rights, if you don't stop sending me threatening letters I'll go to the Citizen's Advice Bureau and consider taking legal action!'
My Fight Club alter-ego would be the type to slam her drink down on the bar and say 'This is Strongbow, but I asked for Fosters!' or take her tub of ice cream back to the cinema stand and say 'I found a lump of plastic in this Cherry Garcia! I demand a refund! I could have choked and died!' or to call the waitress over and say 'We've been waiting for around 37 minutes to get the dessert menu, I demand that you get the manager so I can give him a stern talking-to!'
This would be the kind of complaining that my Fight Club alter-ego would do. Dignified and menacing. Never 'I'll PETROL BOMB YOUR OFFICES AND WRING YOUR SCRAWNY LITTLE NECK IF YOU DON'T DO WHAT I SAY RIGHT NOW!'
No no no. My Fight Club alter-ego would have a teacherish air about her when complaining, the kind that makes people go 'Yes Ma'am, sorry Ma'am.'
As it is, I think I am going to have to continue tutting and muttering for the rest of my life.
2. My Fight Club alter-ego would have 20/20 vision.
I am very VERY short-sighted. The kind of short-sighted where you walk into the kitchen and say 'Hello Dad' to your 16-year-old sister in the morning. I can see around an arm's length in front of my face without glasses or contacts. For someone who looks like a total dweeb in glasses and who is afraid of pain and paying lots of money for laser surgery, contacts are a godsend. I get a set of nice new lenses sent to my house every month with a little pot to keep them in and a nice bottle of solution, and they allow me to walk around without bumping into things and without looking like Eugene from Grease.
HOWEVER, there is a bit of a problem with contacts- you have to take them out at night, and you have to put them in new solution. (The consequences of falling asleep wearing them are pretty disgusting.) This means that you have to do some planning ahead. If you suspect that you won't end up staying at your own house, you have to make sure you take the little pot out with you and fill it up with some new solution before you go. The number of times a potentially spontaneous and rock 'n' roll evening has been ruined by my contacts is surprising.
'Hey, why don't you all come back to my house and we'll play Mario Kart until the early hours of the morning?'
'Why, that sounds like a lovely ide... DAMN I don't have my solution, I shall have to miss out on hours of rock 'n' roll Mario Kart fun.'
I should imagine if I were single it would be even worse.
Also, it ruined some of my holiday in Thailand. (Here comes Lucy the middle-class backpacker, brace yourselves). I happened to run out of solution while we were visiting a National Park in the middle of nowhere, then lost my glasses whilst swimming in a river (yah). This led to the following set of conversations over and over again:
'Wow Lucy did you see that snake it was awesome!'
'No, I can't see anything.'
...
'Wow Lucy did you see that monkey just then?'
'No, I can't see anything.'
...
'Wow, that plant was amazing, did you see it?'
'No, I can't see anything.'
etc.
Some might say that an easy solution to this problem would be to take the little pot full of contact lens liquid everywhere. To them I say 'shut up'.
Anyway, my Fight Club alter-ego would have 20/20 vision. This would enable them to go out and not know where they were going to end up. They could go out in Spalding one night and wake up in Mongolia if they wanted to instead of having to miss out and go home and put their stupid lenses in their stupid pot.
FIN.
