Of all the things that had ever happened to me, this was perhaps the most peculiar.

I’ll get to it, but let me say this before I tell you that. There is something maddening about this urge to bake that I find emanating from every fibre of my being. I find myself desperate to bake a good sponge. A very good sponge. The desire is suffocating. Is this normal? Moreover, is the existential dread associated with an edible sponge to be expected as one grows out of one’s twenties? You tell me. One more thing. There are many nights when I dream of a future. It’s a great future, but there’s an undercurrent of idling unease because I can’t remember if I own a cat and I can’t seem to find my novelty Nietzsche moustache. It’s a wonder why we bother with life, but then again, it’s all we have. But I will say this, I am working on one of the great philosophical texts of our time. I also sense a great polemic coming on. Let me share some of it with you:

1.    Scrub mould from the bathroom ceiling

2.    Remember to floss

3.    Clear out the car boot

4.    Learn basic Japanese

I hope this delivers some vital context before I get on to the most peculiar thing that ever happened to me. And when I refer to me, I mean me in the literal sense. That is, this very singular anatomical collection of very good ideas.

And so, it unfolded (to the best of my recollections)…

It had been an average day. The rain was beating brazenly against the window and I was doing my lateral lunges. With each lunge I was getting more and more incensed with myself. How had I overcooked that fruit loaf two days prior? I didn’t even like fruit.

There was a titter-tatter at the front door. It was Jeremy the Disbarred Lawyer. We called him ‘Jeremy the Disbarred Lawyer’. He was holding a cat and he looked typically criminal, which was part of his allure.

“Found your cat rummaging among my porn collection,” he said.

“I have a cat?” I asked, stroking my fake Nietzsche moustache.

“Aye my son, and this is a cat if ever I saw one. Lord bless you.”

“How so, Father?” I said (I was just coming around to the day and I suppose I was in need of a priest).

“Forget I said anything.”

I nodded. I stared at the cat. It looked familiar. Like Stalin, or a close relative.

“Do you want to meet my sister?” He asked.

“Well, I am in need of a wife,” I replied abruptly.

“I think this could work out for everyone,” he said.

I smiled vaguely.

A year passed.

I woke up with a jolt.

I was toothless and there was mould everywhere. There was mould on my face and mould on the cat. There was mould on my wife and mould on my charred cricket bat. I ran outside. The car boot! It was full of crap! I spotted my neighbour. They were doing their lateral lunges.

“Watashi no poruno wa doko ni arimasu ka?” I blurted out.

“What?” Said the neighbour.

“Where is my porn?”

I can’t tell you more, because that’s the last thing I recall.