Brody on the Compo

Brody had a familiar feeling.  He felt waves in his stomach, vibrating through his pallid flesh.  His whole body cried out in unison.  Brody needed feeding, and quickly.

He fumbled through the front pockets of his stained grey Umbro hoodie.  Panic set in.  He'd run out of funds, and his giro payment wasn't until next Friday.  The thought of a soup kitchen made him wretch, the pale watery liquid doing nothing to satisfy his lust for grease, and the likelihood of his inept agent finding him a role was about as likely as his chances of squeezing his orbular bulk into his Oscars tuxedo - slim to none.

Suddenly, he remembered something that Andre 3000 had told him during one of their monthly get-togethers to reminisce about the better times; filming Gillette adverts, dining on lobster thermidor, and shagging three birds every night.  He remembered a story about how Andre had slipped over some Brussels sprouts in Aldi and had been presented with a compo cheque for £500.  Brody's mouth watered with the thought of half a grand's worth of Big Macs.

Brody squeezed his buxom frame into his yellow Fiat Cinquecento, the suspension sagging more than Angela Merkel's cheeks in a wind tunnel.  His chipolata fingers gripped the steering wheel.  Time to get paid, thought Brody.

He walked through the door of his local Farm Foods, breathing heavily after the 20ft walk from his disabled parking space.  He immediately realised his error - no fresh veg to fall over.  He'd have to improvise.  He began trundling down one of the aisles, the other customers giving him a wide berth but still struggling to get out of his way.  Parents were shielding their children's eyes from the horror.  Brody stalked his prey, trying to remember his training for the film Predators.  He was silent except for the constant wheeze of his mouth breathing.  Suddenly, he spotted his target - a bag of frozen peas laying limply on the floor.  He made a beeline for it, his mass jiggling rhythmically, his arms flailing wildly, barging old ladies and children alike from his path.  He'd never felt so much joy in his life looking at peas.

He reached his target like an overloaded freight train arriving at its terminus, and quickly stumbled over the bag.  He felt his feet fall from under him.  Time stood still as he fell through the air...