Confused in Essex with Pierce Brosnan (Belle)

I had a lot of questions. Who had bleached my hair badly? Why was I in Essex? Why was it suddenly Christmas Day? Why were all these young people partying in my grandmother’s house? How come Aunty V looked a young Joan Collins?

I ran out to the hairdressers to have my hair dyed again, and Mikey the sandwich maker welcomed me in. My hair was covered in dye and I was left alone for hours. When I went to find the hairdresser, the entire salon had become a new business and no-one knew who I was.

For consolation I went to the doughnut shop and bought a chocolate doughnut AND a custard doughnut and ate them at the counter. Then I looked up and there he was – Pierce Brosnan.  We walked on the muddy foreshore and I complained about an abandoned plastic toy, but when I picked it up it transformed into a tiny cinema screen. It was magic – just like our love.

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Evan Davies interviews for ‘How bad was my week?’

My sister S drove like a maniac along the Hebridean shoreline, skidding on seaweed and only narrowly avoiding the obstacles along the way – seals, children paddling, random tourists. From the back seat I screamed at her to slow down.

The next thing I knew, from the driver’s seat she was recording an item for the Radio 4 Today programme by mobile phone. As Evan Davies posed interview questions for the piece entitled ‘How bad was my week?’ she made numerous complaints about her backseat driver (me).

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An appropriate hair style for the almost-bald (Rousse)

I introduced TPR to my new colleagues Jamie and Jamie.

One of the Jamies admired TPR’s distinguished haircut and headwear. However, he regretted his comment the moment that TPR removed his hat. Now it was obvious that the only hair on TPR’s head grew on the sides, and that his crown was completely bald.

I immediately sent TPR to the barber for a complete head shave.

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Super-friendly furry animals, early blooms, and stolen chocolates (Rousse)

Four grey squirrels, each accompanied by a tiny rust-coloured baby kit, leapt from the treetops into my coat as I passed through the market. I managed to shake the squirming animals out of my clothing by the time I reached home.

There I found TPR painting the yard a brilliant white in readiness for the annual display summer flowers.  My sister J had already supplied various bowls and tubs of foliage – but it wasn’t even April yet, and nothing would survive the risk of further cold weather until at least the start of May.

Later, when the rest of our family arrived laden with boxes of chocolates, TPR and I stole the best ones and took them to our room.

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Junkie Genesis journal article theft (Rousse)

I pushed past the junkies in the dark alleyway at the top of Edinburgh’s Broughton Street to enter Crombies’ temporary butcher’s shop. The butcher business taken over the halal meat emporium/paperback library/convenience store while its main shop several yards down the road was being renovated. When I reached the head of the queue, I picked up the pack of bacon that TPR had ordered earlier in the week, and engaged in a short conversation with the staff about the contents of the book shelves behind them.

On my way out of the building I pulled out my big camera to photograph the temporary set-up. Then I negotiated a route past the junkies for a second time and set off again down Broughton Street.

Half way down the hill I could hear someone behind me joining in my rendition of Genesis’ ‘I know what I like in your wardrobe’. When I turned round I saw that the person accompanying me was a skinny blonde woman dressed in rags. I recognised her as one the junkies that I had seen earlier at the top of the road.

This woman initiated a conversation with me, then lunged for my backpack. She managed to unzip it, then pull out a slim bottle of vodka and a blue silk scarf. I fought with her to retrieve my belongings, but failed miserably. Soon she had my entire rucksack in her grasp, and ran off into the distance.

Gone were my camera and my laptop, but – worst of all – the only copy of the manuscript of the journal article that I had promised to complete for PC over the weekend.

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Dog becomes monk (Belle)

T the dog joined a monastery and started to wear a tiny brown habit. His official role was mouse-catcher although he let the mice go after he caught them.

The CEO arrived at a building site to address a small group of men. Instead of making the expected business announcement, he said “Four of you are gay” and left the room. Everyone cheered.

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A toilet knee-trembler with Tom Hiddleston (Belle)

Tom Hiddleston locked us into the hotel lobby toilet. He was much more into it than I was. I kept thinking about the bathroom I was supposed to be deep cleaning.

Later, outside in the slush and snow, local yobbos were throwing grit onto the roads, flagging down passing motorists and then hanging on to their rear bumpers to go ‘poverty snowboarding’.

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