One of the great many advantages of Multiple Personality Disorder is, of course, the ability to take a holiday pretty much whenever you want. It beats the musician’s alternative (I left my heart in San Francisco and my balls in a jar in L.A.) and it sure as hell beats sanity. The fact that, when two personalities turn up at the same time, you have massive wardrobe problems seems minor by comparison.

All the women I have ever dated have always been convinced that I have bad dress sense whereas I have always maintained that I actually had a combination of two highly sophisticated, dashing, daring and wildly divergent personalities. This required I should wear both styles at the same time in case I changed personalities over dinner.

But the advantages go on. I can truly say that I feel at home in my own company. Many people feel that should they be left alone they will enter a tragic bout of soul searching. That could end up in them finding out that they are scared, meek morons with bad hair and halitosis. Such revelations often lead to suicide or, in severe cases, unwarranted purchases of self-help tapes. I do not have that problem. I merely engage myself in mental conversation, happy in the knowledge that I have finally found someone with whom I can relate. Solitary confinement holds no fears (other that they don’t ever have toilet facilities when you see them in the movies- do you think that’s true? Scary.)

The ability to party inside ones own mind is terribly hindered when restricted to only one personality. Have you ever heard of a party of one? No. Three is a crowd, two is a couple and one is a TV dinner. Not being the proud owner of a microwave, I would just burn that to a crisp anyway. And my place can’t cope with a fire since I threw the fire extinguisher through the TV during an advert for a self-help book.

I know that, historically, there were gods that were into burnt offerings but I’ve never, somehow, understood the appeal. Ineffable I guess.

I know that I am lucky that all the personalities are the same sex. I’ve heard some major horror stories. But it must be a big clue when you go to the toilet, though. Can you imagine a woman going into the toilets, entering a cubicle, hoisting the skirt and dropping the panties. She looks down between her legs and sees passenger and luggage.

She’s gotta think: “There’s something wrong here. Perhaps I left my vagina in my other pants.”

I think more people would benefit from taking on an additional persona or possibly two. If nothing else it would save the rest of us from having to deal with those awful adverts for self help cassettes which are only encouraged by purchases made after rash bouts of soul searching. It might even make it worth my while to get a new TV and reclaim my fire extinguisher.


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