Sunday8pm's non-event of a life began in the small backwater island community of Bute in 1980. The world wasn't ready for the ginger haired "mouth and belly" and some called for his mother to have him aborted when he was just 3 weeks old. Personally I am glad that she decided to keep him for the extra £6 a month benefit money she recieved because little did she or anyone know when she squeezed him out that the child she now held in her arms would go on to become what some have called "the most insignificant wastrel since Steve Guttenberg."
For little Sunday8pm (named as is the tradition on Bute after the day and time you are born at) life on the quiet island was too slow. He dreamed of bigger things, he wanted to see the world and ultimately he wanted to realise his dream as his primary school friend Monday5am goes on to explain
"All his life you could see that he wanted to leave Bute. Now that he is famous he likes to tell people it was that he had to leave to acchieve his goals but we all knew that he only wanted to visit the fabled McDonalds that exists somewhere on the mainland"
Sure enough Sunday8pm did eventually leave Bute to experience the first of many many Big Macs. Had he never left, the world would be a very different place, some say nicer, some say less fat but a different place none the less.
It was in the Gourock McDonalds that a young Sunday8pm was to experience the magic of electricity for the first time, something which has been banned on Bute since the famous Electrician Witch Hunt Trials of 1979 when it was declared illegal for anyone to experiment in this black art under penalty of karate chop.
As he stood staring at the VDU behind the till it was then that he knew exactly what he was to do with his life. Sunday8pm explains,
"It was glorious. It was like Kevin (Bute's equivalent to a Christian God) had shown me the light. I was standing ordering my 20 Big Macs and Diet Coke when the blinking text seemed to just spell out my direction. I immeadiately jumped across the counter and typed "LOL!" onto the order screen before proclaiming 'It is my dream that in 5 years time every misguided unloved little boy will be able to say "LOL!" to one another and therefore have friends forevermore', incidentally if I could stop there and just clarify that yes I did come up with LOL! even before the internet began. The McDonalds staff didn't know where to look, the didn't appreciate the magic that had just happened in front of their very eyes. They do now though."
Speaking with Brain Glazier, one of the McDonalds staff members that day we are shown Sunday8pm's impact even now 5 years after the event.
"Yeah I remember it well. This ginger guy who was obviously from Bute? Kind of chubby and spoke like a girl? Yeah I remember him. He jumped over the counter and started playing with the computer, like he had never seen one before but knowing those crazy islanders he probably hadn't. Tugger Harris spat in all his burgers too.
5 years on and his legacy in Gourock lives on.
Soon after this occurence Sunday8pm knew he couldn't return to Bute. The ferry driver refused to take him on due to a petition by the islanders spearheaded by Sunday8pm's own mum and Sunday8pm also had a dream he had to see through to the end.
He found himself on a train to the bustling metropolis of Johnstone, a place where he knew he could make it and also a place where a cousin lived that was willing to take him in.
And for the next 3 years absolutely nothing happened as is always the case in Sunday8pm's life.
It was on his eigteenth birthday that fate stepped in and reared its ugly head when his new thieving Johnstone family stole him a computer from the local orphanage. They didnt steal it for him but it was just that they didn't know how to work it what with them being filthy spastic junkies and all but a bright ginger boy who had never forgotten about the incident in the McDonalds and his pledge to the laughing crowds decided to make his dreams come true.
That night he sat down with his Inspector Gadget writing set and began drawing up his blueprints. These original blueprints are now on show in the Tate Gallery in London because Cobs drew the first in his series of paintings entitled 'Life as a Twat' on the other side of the paper. So although you cannot see them they are there none the less.
The next day Sunday8pm announced that he had invented what he called 'The Internet' at this one of his surprisingly sober relatives piped up that it already existed before Sunday8pm broke down in tears and cried like the little girl he actually was.
Later that day Sunday8pm had finished all the Bird Eye Potato Waffles in Johnstone, something he binged on regularly in times of sorrow which experts at NASA have now calculated as being "every moment of his sad little existence" and he sat down to try out the internet for the very first time.
"As soon as I turned the PC on I instantly knew exactly how to do everything and where everything was. Yeah you see there is nothing I dont know about the internet. Go on ask me anything."
At this the interviewer asks him to tell him the url for the British Telecom website at which Sunday8pm immeadiately reveales his internet genius by replying
http://www.bt.com in a cool sophisticated wobbling manor.
With his absolute knowledge of all things internet Sunday8pm knew he was ready to take on the world. It is rumoured that Bill Gates actually began worrying and that Microsoft shares fell when they learned that Sunday8pm had finally managed to get internet access. The world worried in fact. Conspiracy theorists would have us believe that the powers that be had always been there to keep him offline through various last minute Pie Eating Contests being held in Johnstone whenever he started talking about it and concerned Canadian families even created the CASTOD campaign which loosely translates as the Coalition Against Sunday8pm Touching Our Daughters campaign.
Before long the young Sunday8pm was racing through the information superhighway as fast as his cable modem could take him. He quickly began playing Planetarion, an online internet space race game or wankfest to you and me.
"Planetarion was it for me. It was everything I had ever dreamed of. Suddenly I felt at home"
The above words came from a young Sunday8pm who was plugging Planetarion on
http://ginger.menwithbabies.com a site that Sunday created. These words are a cruel sign of how naive the young Sunday was.
After just a few months of getting more involved in Planetarion than any man, woman or thing ever has including the games creator Spinner Lassoo things began to take their toll on the young internet freak Sunday8pm
With Sunday now breaking every record set in the fields of Sleep Deprivation and Weight Gain his playing started to suffer. It is rumoured he started lacing his Poatato Waffles with the highly addictive caffiene pill Wakesinol and before long his new found addiction brought out a dark side in him.
Spinner Lassoo went onto say
"We all saw it coming but we never knew how far he would take it. His spiralling fame and influence over the game became too much for all of us. Everyone loved him and valued his input, he was like an Ubernerd of the gaming industry. At one point myself and my wife were even arguing over who wanted to sleep with him most. But then it all went wrong
His mood became erratic. One minute he would be queitly typing such Sunday8pm catchphrases as ROFL and OMG and the net he would be declaring war on Norway unless we raised the Spiders stats in the game. We did try and let him vent his views by making him "chief of all things internet and ruler of the information superhighway" but when it comes to Sunday the word 'enough' just doesnt apply"
Once he was knighted by the Queen and shares in Planetarion were sky rocketing up by 0.01p a day things took an even more darker twist. Sunday formed his own irc channel called #homely which masqueraded as a room for casual chat and nonsense but underneath it was actually a sinister recruiting ground for Sunday8pm operatives in all corners of the world.
This group become so powerful with member counts reaching as high as 12 that the NSA began watch on the channel in case any terrorist activity was going on. It was here that they claim that they saw something which should never have been made public.
They told the world just how fat and girly Sunday8pm really was.
Conspiracy theorists would have us believe they made up the news of Sunday8pm having the 'biggest waistband and most girly voice a man has ever possesed. That Bill Gates abused the situation in order to regain control of the 'I am the internet King' title but some truths will never be revealed.
'With his addiction now dominating his life and his appetite for Potato Waffles and loose Canadian women on the increase, this revelation was the last straw for a very weary Sunday8pm.
He was found unconcious slumped over his PC with his pants down. Paramedics recognised him as soon as they walked into the house and in a cruel twist of fate refused to help him due to the fact he has paid no national insurance through his ponging leeching ways so they left him for dead.
On Sunday the 7th of December at 8pm at night. Sunday8pm's coma finally claimed his life. His brother Robert made sure he was dead by repeatedly kicking him in the head until 'there was nothing left' as one coroner quoted.
A small rememberance festival was held online for him as he would have wanted with attendance figures reaching 5 and his brother Robert was knighted for services to the nation for 'putting up with the fat midden for so long and for aiding him in parting this earth. fat prick he was' as the queen announced in a rare emotional knighthood ceremony at Buckingham Palace.
He was ginger, he was fat, he shall be remembered forever.