I call this picture ‘Right thumb at 8.06am’
I usually take a camera to bed; you never know if you are going to meet someone in your dreams you’d like to snap.
I didn’t last night though; instead I chopped off a mouse’s head with a soldering iron. And its tail. But the tail had a life of its own; it kept jumping about. Most unpleasant.

Anyway, in case you’re thinking this is Amanda’s bedside cabinet, it isn’t. Nor is it the one in my room at St Botolph’s. No, it is my son Sydney’s room in which I awoke this April Saturday morning.
You see, I was allowed home for the weekend. It is all part of Amanda’s sex therapy. And no – it was not so I could have wild tumultuous sex with Georgina (or Anastasia). I was specifically required NOT to have sex with either of these two ladies – or anyone else.
It was an exercise in ‘relationships’: spending two days in the company of females without having sex – or even talking about sex. Amanda believes I need to learn how to relate to women other than on a sexual basis.
She says I have been using sex to avoid intimacy! Can you imagine that! What a load of bulshit!
Anyway I thought I would take the opportunity – see how things went, if you know what I mean.
But do you know what the bitch had done! Briefed the two females in question, beforehand. Now, I knew there was no chance with Georgina, but Anastasia! Well I had sort of hoped.

The Swedish tart brought me breakfast in bed, the first morning (Saturday). I thought – hello, this is looking promising. But she said ‘Now then Georgie boy’ - I will kill her if she calls me that again - ‘I have, for the special treat, brought your breakfast. But the treat ends there. There is to be none of the hanky pankering. Amanda’s orders. So even though I am wearing my black flimsy nightware, with the pink bows, it is for the strictly “look but don’t touch” purposes’.

Well, I have never felt so insulted – or disappointed. But as she leaned over me with the tray, I thought I would try a quick grope.
‘Naughty boy’ she admonished, as she grabbed my wrist in a bone-crushing grip. And before my fingers could touch white Swedish flesh, she had twisted my arm and forced me back onto the pillow. And, with her face an inch from mine, she whispered ‘Anna will have to punish Georgie now.’

‘Wow’ I thought. ‘Things are looking up’.

Then she tipped the contents of the tray onto my chest. I yelled as the hot coffee soaked through my pyjama jacket. Luckily, the cold milk from the cornflakes took out some of the sting, but as I shot bolt upright, scrambled egg, sausage and tomatoes (tinned) slid down my stomach and under the sheet. What a mess.
And then, in the midst of my distress, a hyena entered the room. Well that is what it sounded like. Jerking my head up, I saw the lesbian standing in the doorway, screeching with laughter. ‘Go on girl, serves the bugger right’ she howled.

Retaining my dignity, I scraped a handful of soggy food off my person and threw it at her. I missed, of course, causing more laughter from both of them. They then left the room, still hooting at my discomfiture.

The rest of the weekend didn’t go too well. I’m glad to be back.