Haddock to the Face, #1

Hello my son.

You don't know me, but listen up. I am you from the near future, and you need a morose haddock to the face.

The haddock's name is Percy The Disillusioned Haddock. Percy says hello. Percy also says the following. For reference, he sounds like a cross between Ray Winstone and a brown trout:

"Listen here, quadroped. You don't need songs to tell you how to feel. You don't need songs to make you feel how you want to feel. You don't need mountaintops or forests or glaciated valleys. You don't need marble floors or frescoed ceilings. You don't need fancy restaurants or four-poster beds. You don't need Pablo Neruda or Marvin Gaye or Bruce mother fucking Springsteen and his overblown songs about things that never happened to you. There is no future in nostalgia for things that never happened. You need your woman after a day's work, upstairs on the 27B. You'll be the guy whose face hurts from laughing. And then you can write your own bloody songs if you want to. But you'll probably be too busy with joy, mirth, not being a haddock, and canoodling. How awful for you."

A Lucky Man ...

Meets a girl when he's old enough to know what to do.
Meets a girl when he's young enough to do it.
Meets a girl who hasn't made disguising her flaws into a full-time job.
Meets a girl who likes him too.
Meets a girl who isn't paralysed by fear.

A smart man knows it.
A brave man does not shirk it.
A happy man accepts the circumstances of it.
A great man is one who deserves it.

Be smart, brave and happy. And greatness may befall you. Bestowed by an angel. Greatness is only the word for he-deserves-her. If he's lucky, she'll agree.