Disturbed? I nearly died

For my sins I was punished with a hideous nightmare last night, of an awfulness too dire to revisit to post on this blog until now. I have finished my lunch, hope you have too.

I was walking along the side of a cricket ground, minding my own business, while some of the players were practising. I noticed Shane Warne ahead of me, entirely nude and showing off some particularly colourful tattoos around his arms and back.

At this point I made a fateful error. Rather than running as fast as I could in the opposite direction screaming for the police, I instead sped up so that I would be able to overtake him and pretend not to have noticed his "condition".

An awful realisation dawned on me as I drew closer - he was turning round to face me. By this time there was nothing I could do, I was helpless, not even able to speak.

He fixed his beady eyes on my face and began making strange noises, like I imagine an emu makes when it swoops in for the kill (yes, there are killer emus, at least in my world) and raising his arms threateningly.

Frozen in terror I lost all awareness of my surroundings, as he came closer and closer, until, with a triumphant shriek, he suddenly turned round to present his arse, bent down a little and farted into his own hands which he then shoved into my face as ...a gift?

Proud of himself, he aped off, and I woke up, mad-eyed and feverish.

And no, that's not how I wake up every morning. Can anyone recommend a therapist? Or at least can we win the bloody Ashes?

sorry

It has come to my attention that I have been somewhat remiss of late, what with updating y'all on my news. I promise I have been busy with my other blog (see side panel) and not forsaking dear Pootle for the insidious joys of work. Pah!

Well then. News:

I am moving from London to Basingstoke. Yes, really. This weekend. Before I drown under waves of mass derision, please check this out:

http://www.basingstoke.me.uk/

All you never wanted to know about the town which is to become my home. It's only 40 minutes from Waterloo you fascists!

The flat is nice, above a Quaker meeting house(!) to which I expect all revellers staying of a Saturday night to attend for silent prayers on Sunday morning. There are two bedrooms so nobody will be forced to kip on my floor, as has previously been the case (you know who you are). We will be having a house-warming party at some point, please let me know if you can think of a suitable theme, also to tie in with my forthcoming birthday. That was a hint to start saving up by the way.