I’ve written before about how my ‘ticcing fits’ don’t usually produce any funny or interesting verbal tics, but the early hours of this morning was a notable exception.

Bunny was my night time support worker and I woke her at 3:45am with a ‘ticcing fit’ that went on for over an hour and a half. She successfully juggled making sure I was safe with frantically scribbling down an unexpected torrent of tics. I might not have been able to tell her what I needed, but the words came out in a constant stream and kept us both laughing. She may have missed a few but Bunny filled three full pages of A4 with tics. Here’s a selection:

“I overslept once, 44,000 million years ago.”
“The history of iguanas can be written in a tea pot.”
“Hello darkness, my old bin.”
“What have you contributed to this conversation, mattress? You’re more useless than a geranium.”
“Quiet, body: bears are trying to think in the woods.”
“Who’s going to bother saving bins when we’ve got whales and energy to save?”
“I’m no friend of a leopard. I’m friend of a lion. I’m boasting about being friends with a lion.”
“Shadow puppet pissing in my hand.”
“Laser-beam me up, baby.”
“The clouds are chasing Helen Mirren.”
“The tree is feeling up the sky.”
“What’s the difference between the air and a Basset hound? Twenty-six acres of wind.”
“I wonder if an owl got lost tonight.”

And Bunny’s personal favourite: “Bunny is the boss of bodies.”

It all ended just before 5:30am, after a lot of medication. As Bunny left the room I ticced, “If you see a barn owl, tell it to go away.”

If anything like this happens again I’ll do my best to record it. Watch this space.

Festive outburst
“I think Christmas might be a chief executive.”