I awoke with a start to the sound of a loaf of bread being chainsawed into thin wholemeal slices. Checking the time, I noticed that my clock was missing. Strange, it was there this morning. It must have gone for a walk. In a hazy recollection, I remembered that there was no food in the kitchen, or the kitchen itself, left to eat. I checked the bathroom, the lion had been cleared away. Shit, I was hungry.

I went upstairs, before realising that there was no upstairs at all, and I was in someone else's flat. There was an old woman sat in a chair in the corner of the room, she was knitting a scarf and humming to her self at an alarmingly fast rate. She saw me and began ranting. She asked me what the fuck I was doing, and I realised that I was by that point I was pissing in the corner of her room. The chair she was sat on looked like a lavatory, so I pushed her down through the hole I had made in the floor to get up here, and continued to piss on that. After that she stopped talking. Unluckily for me, an old man came out and started ranting at me even more. He was wearing bright red braces over a silk shirt. I guessed he was her husband, because his head looked like a chicken. He ran at me with a kitchen knife shouting the word "die" repeatedly. It was a strange greeting that I was unaccustomed to, but as I could speak German, I understood him well. I accepted his gift with a large amount of grace and flair, taking it off his hands as he ran. The old man unfortunately seemed to be confused by this action, and continued to carry on running, he elegantly swan dived through the window at the end of the room, landing in a heap on the floor. I peered outside to see what mark the judges had given him. He had received 10 out of 10 by everyone except the French, who seemed to feel that his accuracy and style were not up to scratch. I found some pies in the cupboard, and placed them into their oven. After five minutes I could not wait, the hunger struck me again and again, so I hit it back and placed it in the oven too. five more minutes passed and I was forced to eat the oven. still hungry. I could not understand at first why I was so hungry, until I remembered that I had slept through lunch. The only decision that I could possibly partake in was to head down to a cafe and fill up in style. For this reason I decided to head down to a café to fill up in style

As I walked toward the door, I tripped on a pile of sunglasses, fell through my earlier created hole in the floor, and plummeted to my certain death. The old woman, just about regaining consciousness, broke my fall. She lost it again I wandered outside again, for the second time this day. Just as soon as I stepped outside I realised that I had no money, and needed to go to the bank. It wasn't far to walk, but I felt the necessity to steal a car anyway, as I enjoyed listening to the radio. I got myself a nice lotus esprit. It was the wrong colour, and so, with the knife I remembered to have in my pocket, was forced to stab the driver before pulling him out for having bad taste in colour. I drove the fifty yards to the bank, and parked the car in the lobby. As the staff started to complain, I explained that I would remember where I parked it if it was there. I got out and asked for a withdrawal, they gave me a form to fill in. No sooner had I got this than a young entrepreneur ran in holding a gun. He told nobody to move or they would get their motherfucking heads blown away. This sounded unpleasant, but I was sure my head had never fucked any mothers, and carried on writing my name onto the form. The manager told him to be calm, and that everyone would co-operate with him. One clerk screamed, and then he fainted. The clerk serving me looked panicked and repeated "ohmi God, Ohmi god" over and over. It wasn't the first time I had been mistaken for God, so I merely blessed him and offered him some lovely wine made by the Benedictine monks. The nice young men with the gun came up to me. "If you don't stop fucking moving and get on the fucking floor I'll fucking shoot your brains out" he screamed at me in a pleasant voice. It felt relaxing to listen to and I chilled out. I asked him why he was wearing tights on his head, and if he was some kind of transsexual. He hit me down onto the floor and placed the gun to my head. He shouted "Die". I felt that I was becoming more accustomed to this greeting, and tastefully accepted the gun as a gift. It was beginning to feel like my birthday. I stood up. The young man stood there like a numpty, unsure as to what to do next. I looked at the young man, wishing that he was food. They asked me not to shoot anyone. I asked why I would do that, before accidentally shooting the manager. I had forgotten about the gun in my hand.

After much commotion, they handed me a sack of money, and told me to leave. Picking up a leaflet, I felt inclined to ask about the ISA savings account package they had, as they had given me too much money, and I wished to deposit some. A while later I walked out with only a couple of thousand pound, fresh in the knowledge that my new found wealth was earning a higher rate of interest than stuffing into the mattress, my usual savings account. I went to the cafe across the street, and ordered everything they had. They told me that that was off the menu today, so I was forced to eat the cafe instead. Feeling a heavy stomach, I headed back home to go back to my bed. It had been just another one of those afternoons.