i would say deafness but as accorrding to HM Forces or to be more acurate the badly trained chimp that did my demob medical the last time i demobed i am already deaf so i will have to go for incontenance
Drink as much as I want to, whenever I want to.
Stay in bed as long as I want to, whenever I want to.
Swear as often as I want to, whenever I want to.
Eat what I want, when I want.
Walk slowly with a shopping trolley in every aisle in every shop, especially at peak times, especially in supermarkets.
Pay for everything in pennies. Slowly.
Drive at 25 mph. Everywhere.
Pretend to be deaf and shout replies to every question.
Blue hair. Looks great on the old ladies, Im going to give it a go as an old man and start a new trend. With the help of some Viagra and a lucky streak at the local Bingo hall, I should have a large harem of urine smelling, blue haired ladies trying to get there hands down the front of my yellow stained Y fronts. Ah, yes. Old age, Im looking forward to it.
Going to the supermarket and taking a trolley full of Kit-e-Kat, peppermints and biscuits to the '5 items or less, basket only' checkout. At lunchtime or other busy period. I shall alternate this with attempting to pay with vouchers, foreign coins and an expired credit card in the 'cash only' lane.
I can hardly wait to order my first 'Chums' catalogue of generously cut trousers with nipple-height waistband.
I already do all the horrible shite that I want to do later(I'm only 37 ). The only perks will come when I get out, and don't have to beat as many 20 year olds as possible on the BPFA, so I'll not have to run when I don't fecking feel like it!
Also, if the Mrs karks it before me, I get to do the really offensive stuff publically too
I want to be a miserable old cnut, making everyones elses lives around me miserable.
I want to be invited round to the daughters house for christmas dinner, offending the son in laws parents and p1ssing my pants at the table.... when someone comes to mop me up and clean up my puddle, I'll reward them by hocking up my lungs in thier hair.
I want yellow smelly bedding and a collection of bed sores
I want a phone line direct to the hospice where aunty atella will be on his last legs from cancer so I can taunt him in his final hours.