I have been stricken with a serious bout of Taking Oneself Seriously. A thousand judgemental eyes turn upon me, the apple I ate for dinner churns uncomfortably in my stomach, and my life becomes unliveable and strange.

The only solution is to run around and around and around the carpark outside in big retarded circles, pretending to be some kind of antelope or horse or cheetah.

Excuse me a moment.

(as a sidenote, it's true. Authors don't get enough play.)