I’m sorry Your Majesty, I can’t remember my name or where I live.
Mind you, there was a period (ahem, late 90s) where I used to live in total terror of showing up in one of those programs with names like “When Drunks go Mad”, so I guess I shouldn’t grumble. I’ve moved on from all that now though and involve myself with far more gentile pursuits such as embroidery or decorating ashtrays, vases etc by sticking loads of seashells to them.
I did my neighbour’s car once shortly before he was sectioned. Nice bloke but his sanity was ever but a slender reed, as they say.













