A Milan Banwaith Tale

With the recent success of my previous entry from yesterday, I've had recommendations from Tom Edwards and many others to continue writing.  Over the course of the day, whilst pondering both life's mysteries, and what I could write for my second article, an abomination of a person came stumbling over to me, (wearing his "£65" fleece) and said, in his most naive (sorry Mrs Fisher - can't put an umlaut on the "i"), honest, and sincerest voice:


"James! What does 'dispute' mean? Seriously James, I just don't know."

                                      The great Milan Banwaith


This conversation evolved into how he also didn't know the definition of 'mistress', and kept pronouncing it 'mist-ress', and then, with Josh Murphy reluctantly joining in the discussion, Milan commented: "Josh! Your breath stinks! That's so 'bs'..."


This was in a History lesson period 3 & 4, and so, with a substitute teacher, our ability to talk freely was hardly discouraged. Well, now that I think about it, this old lady (who had one of the most strangest accents) was shouting a lot: I didn't really like her. Anyway, sorry; I'm digressing.


So next, with this old woman who's practically crumbling with age looming and watching all of us strangely, silence befalls the classroom. Completely spontaneously, and utterly randomly, Milan screeches in sheer delight: "Press it hard!"


A series of unfortunate events then unfurl which I shan't delve into, and, almost immediately, another blinding comment passes Milan's lips: "James, move your arm!" (I'm left handed you see, and my arm was getting over his work) 
In retaliation, I replied sarcastically "I'm sorry I'm left handed."
And his golden response was: "Well why don't you change hands?!?!?!?!"


Now that this inaccurate anecdote about today's events has been told, I must reveal that Milan is, in all 200+ official countries, by all experiments known to man: psychologically insane. It is this insanity that has been described today: one of his outrageously stupid actions and terminology, his repetitive ramblings about how he will one day become the next Nigel Smith, and his obsession with women's clothing and make-up.


In the future, say... 10 years from now, I would like to meet up with Milan, to see how he has fared in independent life. My bet is that, if his ambition to become a dentist has failed, he will either become the Godfather of the world's largest organised criminal cartel in the world, or someone will have got so fed up with him that they will have brutally killed Milan with nothing but a blunt tooth pick and a wooden spoon.


The sad thing is, despite his probable retardedness, I still class this lovable, blundering idiot as a friend. It is this pathetic stupidity that brings out the best in a person: Milan Banwaith is a prime example.


And so I say, let the legacy of Milan live on through our tales. Never surrender; never faulter. And in the words of the great Millie B. himself:


"STFU, or I'll slap you silly!"


Sianara.