This is a recipe for that, and that has been described as 'a disaster' by him, and he has been awarded the 'Man most likely to recognise a disaster' prize by a committee headed by her, and she is trying to piece together the bits of broken timber she found in my garden.

When she first found the broken timber in my garden she asked me if I'd been playing with Crunchy again.

I told her that I hadn't been playing with Crunchy in over a year. I still had the scars. The timber used to be stilts. It's easier to make new stilts than it is to make new legs. I think my neighbours broke them. They were showing me their new scarecrow and I said he'd make an excellent scarecrow but my comment angered them because they were showing me their new grandmother. I had to hijack a tree to make my getaway. I ended up in a garden I'd never seen before.

I spent half an hour exploring the garden. When I heard footsteps at the other side of a hedge I remembered that I was trespassing, so I climbed a tree to hide. The feet that made the sound of footsteps belonged to two gardeners. I would have remained invisible to them if the branch I was holding onto hadn't broken. As it broke I tried to remember what the Health and Safety man said about falling: when you land on the ground you should roll into a ball and use it to kill a whale. When I hit the ground I forgot to roll because I saw the familiar faces I hadn't seen in years. They used to appear in my bedroom at night when I was young and they'd try to sing me to sleep, but they normally kept me awake.

The faces were more helpful this time. They told me to run away, and they gave me directions home. The gardeners ran after me. They're still chasing me but they're slowing down now and and and I'm saying 'and'. What's this again?

Grey  # 5:21 AM