So the other day, that was Thom Yorke. A man whose toilet habits I've written a song about. Walking past me. On the street. Then, yesterday, I met someone who had not only seen me play in Exeter about two years ago but is also in charge of lettings at the company that I'm renting my flat from. Now, today, Sam's story, which mysteriously vanished from within my soundbox shortly after having been written on the princess bride tour (see 2/8) has turned up... in my soundbox. I've cleaned that soundbox twice since the tour and IT WAS NOT THERE.

I'm just one stilton goose away from complete, overwhelming insanity. Let's hope I can get this tune lyric'd first. It might be called Existentialism on Folk Night, but I'm not sure yet.