Marks And Spencers make really nice sandwhiches....

It true they really do. Today has been like a spiritual journey of enlightenment (I am now a positive, vibrant person with, for the first time since I was born, no impending sense of doom, oncoming disaster etc etc) and discovery. My most exciting discovery being that of the really really very good sandwhich selection in the Marks And Spencers quickstop in Leeds train station. Anyway, far more interesting things have happened today then my purchasing of sandwhiches, mainly, the sudden and bizarre realisation that I spent a proportional amount of my day today clad in stockings, suspenders and a 20" corset straddling a large antique horse saddle, brandishing a whipping rod and smoking a large cigar (and getting paid to do so). When did my life become so very surreal? Today I have met an ex-olympic rower, an irate Virgin rail employee with an explosively short temper and a strange man selling weed for a ridiculously discounted price. The joys of train travel. I should at this point make it clear that I did politely decline the generous offer of one quid spliffs from a random chav on a train but if anyone is interested he is small dark haired fella who lives somewhere in Oxford. Strange days. The countdown to my creative directorial debut is still on and I am feeling positive in the fact that nobody has come down with malaria or forgotten who the fuck I am. It is looking quite possible that it might go really well and I am also working on a new project that I am not currently at liberty to divulge. So while you're waiting for me to divulge I suggest you go immediately to Marks and Sparks and buy yourself a sandwhich - as long as it's not the tuna. That's shit.