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WAKING up with a hangover whose energy, if harnessed, could provide light and electricity for a small Scottish village for six months, I reflect on the past few days and my most recent holy initiative. 

FUNNY lot, the Arabs. Always killing each other and living in tents in the desert because they're too lazy to build proper houses. Nothing wrong with camping, but you can take things too far.

THE discovery that harmless cowpox inoculated against deadly smallpox saved humanity from a disease that killed one in every ten people, while causing bothersome injections from local pharmacists.

How different musical history would be if Elton John had written his hits with Bernie Clifton. Mick Jagger with Keith Harris. Roger Daltrey with Nookie Bear.

WAKING with a hangover whose tremors cause several slate tiles to come loose from the palace roof, luckily only causing minor head injuries below, I take a sip of water and look back on the week’s events.

FAM! Early dis week a bruv bangs hinto Active J on him’s way to da hastroturf at break wiv mandem crew, an’ starts dissin’ man habout bein’ a fake roadman. You wot, bruv?

A DARK cloud is rolling across Europe. We may not see it lit af again in our lifetimes.

As humans we have collectively decided: when woodland society inevitably organises, badgers will be the police.

WAKING up with a hangover whose throbbing is so intense it disrupts satnav systems across central London, I take a sip of water and reflect on another momentous week. 

I DON’T know if anyone will ever read this. But if you do, PLEASE send help. I'm hiding in the pantry of the house Meghan pretends to live in. And I can't get out.