I�ve been awake for so many hours lately. I try to sleep and it won�t happen. Sleep, my long lost and much, much loved friend. It�s so strange. Sleep and I are well acquainted. I can usually nap through road works, industrial tools, shouting, wailing, murders and all that. It makes me sad. I hate being tired. It makes me nice.

I went to a TV sketch show recording last night. It was in a studio near Waterloo. There was a picture of Lorraine Kelly on the wall. Do you know the place? I was blindly led so I don't remember. I was dreading it being one of those audience participation type things and hey! Guess what! Everybody join in! I went with my sister, �boss� and Giovanni. I sat next to Gio and tried to hide whilst he got all reach for the stars on me. He was living the Butlins redcoat dream. At one point after a particularly heavy grinding, whooping and thrusting session had died down and there was hush in the crowds he loudly announced �OH, I enjoyed that. Might do it again later.� There was a man whose sole job it was to wind the camera cables up in figures of eight. The rest of the time he stood about chewing gum opened mouthed � gump, gump, gump and looking nonchalant with his hipster �do and low rise bumsters. He was so annoying to my every sense that it was all I could look at.

Today as I picked a particularly crumpled pair of jeans of the floor and shook them something flicked up and whizzed into my eye. I was incapacitated for several minutes and this gave me time to reflect; who sustains this kind of injury? Well, those with a lax clothing standards for a start.

Aaaah I�m going deranged I think.

Soso