2003-10-31 - 11:51 a.m.

Last night wasn�t the most restful night I�ve ever had. I made an admirable stab at an early night and went to sleep faster than the front row of a Travis concert. So far, so soporific.

(Side note: When I was young, I used to watch the cartoon Hong Kong Phooey. The theme song was very catchy, with a last line devoted to the character�s popularity � �Hong Kong Phooey, he's fan-riffic!� My juvenile brain heard this as �Hong Kong Phooey � and Riffic!� I was constantly baffled as to where his non-existent sidekick Riffic was, and why he was never referred to. Bad enough in itself, but the theme also included the line �Hong Kong Phooey, quicker than the human eye� � again, I showed myself to be the cerebral amoeba I so obviously am by thinking for quite a long time that there was a super villain called The Human Eye, and that Hong Kong Phooey was slightly faster than him. These possibly supersede my Hart to Hart mishearing in the embarrassment stakes � �My name is Max, I take care of them both�we�re Chinesey�)

Anyway, I never remember my dreams, but this one was kind of hard to ignore. For some reason, I was hell bent on killing myself and I had taken a mighty swig of strychnine. My dream consisted of my going through the gruesome death process, seemingly in real time, with all the attendant inconveniences of having ingested huge amounts of deadly poison. Blurry vision, agonising stomach cramps, choking up vital organs � none of the things that usually mark a restful night and really quite disturbing to be honest, especially the procession of people that came by to watch and, in some cases, gloat whilst poking me.

I woke up to find that I�d apparently trying to scratch my own face off, with blood coming from the bridge of my nose, and that I�d knocked over a glass of water, which I handily stepped into on getting up. I think this takes being bad in bed to new levels.

Who�s ever heard of the word Fan-riffic, anyway? Is it any wonder youngsters get confused?