It’s been a pretty random day.

I overslept.

“I have a face made of Plasticine and poo.”

Not quite, but my face is very bruised from where I’ve been banging it.

Nobody’s won the election.

I went to work.

I split a bag of concrete over my head.…

I went to vote this morning but I accidentally voted for the wrong candidate. My arm ticced while I was completing my ballot paper and I selected a candidate I would never have chosen. I was given a fresh sheet and managed to finish the job without further incident.…

“I’d like a hovercraft in my head – bust out the beach.”

Before the channel tunnel there used to be a hovercraft service to France. Now there’s only one remaining public hovercraft route in the UK – Portsmouth to the Isle of Wight.…

My knuckles are giving in. The skin has eroded on my hands where I bang them against my chest to a point where they are cracked and bleeding despite me wearing fingerless cycling gloves to protect them. This skin damage makes banging my chest hundreds of times an hour even more painful.…

I was on the bus earlier and an older woman got on. She was beautiful: glamorously dressed, really tall and sporting an amazing grey Afro. As she walked past me to reach a free seat I squawked. The woman turned, looked at me and smiled warmly.…

The lair was buzzing with activity this evening as we played host to some Bank Holiday fun including a roast dinner, poker and Robocop. Here’s a quick summary of the evening through tics:

“I have a king and an eight.”

“I have a five and a three.”…

I was chatting with my dad on the phone earlier. He’s obviously used to our conversations being peppered with tics including lots of swearing which he never mentions. Today’s conversation was no exception. While talking I described something using a swearword.…

I’ve re-entered a head-banging phase. Not the music-related-throwing-your-hair-about type but the fist-to-head variety. This has happened intermittently before but has become pretty regular over the last couple of days. The head banging doesn’t stop if my hand contains an object. Already today I’ve hit my forehead with: a phone, a carton of apple juice, a set of keys, a toilet roll dispenser and a strawberry.…

Ku Klung Klung might not mean anything to most of you, but there will be a few people reading this who might recognise it as a tune by Red Dragon. The track is apparently about what it sounds like when you have sex with a skinny girl.…

“Die Hard with a Pension.”