I opened the back door to find out who was knocking. It was the ghost of my dog, complaining bitterly that I had left him in the back garden for three and a half years.

Later I was walking around a conference centre when my companion was shot in the chest. No-one else noticed this – even the victim – and I attempted to phone for an ambulance. Sadly I had completely forgotten how to use a telephone. Frantically I ran at a troop of Morris dancers, screaming for help.