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WAKING up on a cobbled street, my head feeling like the ecosystem of the planet Mercury, it becomes clear I have somehow been transported back in time to somewhere between 1987 and 1992.

Hola. Pep here. Man City manager. Roll neck aficionado. One of the few examples your wife is thinking of when she sees your receding hairline and unconvincingly says ‘bald men can be sexy too’. 

AS someone who grew up with every recorded fact and invented fact a quick Google away, I believe in the freedom of information. Anything less is gatekeeping, which is evil.

As they hover behind you, holding your jacket ready for you to slip your arms into, you admit to yourself you should never have befriended those crows.

WAKING with morning breath that has literally burnt a hole in my pillow, I rub my bleary eyes and look back on the initiative I set in place last week.

I KNOW I’m not the only one. Across the West, his sexy civil warmongering and daredevil backing of Trump has hordes of women hot for Elon.

YOUR girlfriend kindly pretends you are good in bed, but where do you really stand in her league table of lust?

A MAN whose girlfriend is taking evening classes in French is confident learning seductive new verbs will put her in the mood for sex.

WAKING with a painful cranium, fortunately the result of alcohol and not a half-brick to the back of the head like the amusing chap in Southport, I reflect on the troubling events of the past week.

I KNOW my stuff when it comes to ye olde medieval days of yore. I've watched the entire boxset of Merlin six times. Mostly for wanking over Katie McGrath when Morgana turns evil and sexy, but that's beside the point.