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Human Whack-a-Mole

Who I'd like to knock on their ass: anyone who uses Twitter during brunch

Who I'd like to knock on their ass: anyone who uses Twitter during brunch, the house guest who clipped his nose hairs and spat phlegm gobs in the sink (and left the mess) and threw a party on the roof while I was out for a few hours, breeders who don't know how to effectively and non-abusively silence their kids, the guy in marketing sending rude and poorly spelled emails about a t-shirt contest, an ex who wants to "talk" even though there is nothing to talk about, and most people in the UK. Thank goodness I can take it all out on Felix Harold Vega, who for $5 allows you to punch him for two minutes. If that won't do it, you can hit him in the balls for $10 or spit on him for $15. Let's talk to this human punching bag.

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Vice: How did you come up with this punching bag crap? Felix Harold Vega: Patricia, my favourite whore in the entire world, told me that one day she was being slapped repeatedly in the face by a client's balls, so she said, “Hey, easy there! What do I look like? A human punching bag? And I said, Bingo.

What are your clients looking for in you?

Well, we all have high-stress lifestyles, we deal every day with hardcore pressure. So I’m basically delivering a valuable service for stressed people.

What is the worst part of your work?

I hate dumped girls. If a girl has stilettos, actually run for your life. Those things are lethal. She's going to break your nose and you'll be lucky to escape without head trauma.

Have you ever been knocked out by a client?

No, but I’ve been shook up a couple of times. Everything goes black and then you get stung for a minute. All of a sudden, you’re back.

Don't you want to beat them up in return?

No. I take this seriously, I'm getting famous over here and that's good money.

Oh yeah? I bet you are a real pussy magnet.

Sometimes I get recognised by people while I’m not working, or I see a client [out somewhere] and I’m like, “I got punched by this guy last night!” Yesterday a guy gave me a pair of filth-encrusted boxing boots as a present.

How would you define your labour?

I’m everything you ever wanted to punch.

Anything else?

It’s really getting late, so Jesus Christ, just fucking drop the beer and punch me already.

No thanks, that’s weird.