h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

 For the past 12 weeks I have been living in, on and for my own foul-smelling faeces. After losing my job, my wife, my children, my mother, my cat and my house to fate, I retired to an abandoned wheely bin in the middle of the Atacama desert, where I have contemplated the meaning of life, suicide and what Marilyn Mansun's mother must think of him, among other things. I'm now ill and dirty to say the least and living in a bungalow in South-East Asia with a nomadic prostitute who found me on Monday and helped me to mount her llama before riding me to safety. I have fixed upon a plan of action from which I will reap the greatest rewards, I plan to kill my supervisor and cut off her head before skewering it on a big stake for the world to see, I will then visit my bank manager with this stake and distribute a similar kind of vengeance upon him, then will come my wife, the bitch. My masterpiece will be the planting of a bomb at the national lottery live draw on the 18th of September and the stealing of all the money so that I may give it to my good friend Colonel Gadafi for the purchase of arms and narcotics. After this, in my escape, I will hijack a space shuttle, take off, and throw myself out over London to fall to my glorious death. I'll go down in history and have films made about me, oh yes!