Hate sports as I do, I am loath to use the following analogy, but I've always batted for team "Good" of the (ficticious, in my humble opinion) good/evil divide. I've always been good, since before childbirth. I was about a week late because I didn't want to cause my mother too much pain - that's how good I am.
Unaccustomed as I am to deeds which are not saintly and benign (although occasionally I am a little mischeivous), evil deeds - I have discovered - are a lot more fun. Yes, they're not my thing, but I think that - as long as one reverts to being good - the occasional evil deed can be refreshing for the soul. Think a good guy going bad for a while, like all the heroes in Blackest Night. That sort of thing.
Take today, for example. My lovely, long-suffering girlfriend - who is feeling quite unwell - was faced with the miserable prospect of having to spend a day in the company of my mother. I'm not even entirely sure my father could do that, so the drinking girl had no chance. And I sure as hell wasn't going to put her through that. So - we devised an intricate web of lies (that's right, lies) in order to spare her from suffering this terrible fate. Alas, due to our devising of this thoroughly evil and really rather clever plan, we have to be apart this weekend, which puts me at a disadvantage, because I can't see her, and I miss her so.
Which, you know, proves that evil doesn't really work. Or even if it does, it has its bad consequences. Nevertheless, our dastardly little plan worked, and therefore you may excuse me while I try something I rarely ever get a chance to do...