Strange goings-on at the Circle K. The kind of thing, dear reader, that may have you doubting my sanity. No change there, then; but fame, fortune and a front page spread in the Daily Sport have eluded me once again in the cruellest possible manner.
To tell the truth, I'm recovering from having just done a turd that looked EXACTLY like Mother Teresa of Calcutta, the so-called Saint of the Gutters and drinking buddy of our very own Princess Di, Queen of All our Hearts. Such was my awe at this obvious divine fecal miracle that I accidentally flushed it down the pan before I had the chance to fish it out and flog it on Ebay to an astonished world. I would have done it properly too - certificate of authenticity signed by the Pope an' all that. Once again fate mocks me.
We all know by now that Cherie Blair's an AAA+++ ebay buyer - I'm certain she would have paid me cold, hard cash for such a desirable item to cheer her slacker of a husband up while he goes out looking for a new job. After all, he's going to be spending much of the next week taunted by a turd in the shape of Robert Kilroy-Silk.