Mince Pie Manure Trotters

THE CRAZIEST DREAMS EVER kept me sleepwaking for 14 hours all afternoon and through the night. First I was demonically possessed in my sleep (lovely!) then I had what kicked off as a marvellous reverie. In this fantasy I was clean of drugs (obviously, else I'd not have been out travelling) and travel I did. The world was my oyster. So to start off with, me and unnamed faceless (yet nonsinister) companion agreed to visit "the toe of Italy". I was so excited to be going somewhere so boastworthy; also I've always longed to explore the length of Italy and the classical cities of Rome, Bologna and Venice aside (plus Milano) Italy's foot is somewhere I'd particularly love to go... so we're all raring. It was a bit like Ewan McGregor and wild guy's overland-by-(motor)-bike John-O'Groats to Capetown televisual jaunt. O! The joy of the open road. First we stopped overnight at a large secondary school that resembled an outsized garden centre. I put my excessively humungous baggage down in the swimming pool changing rooms. Came back for it ~ then ~ bang! ~ gone. And an entire class full of nasty kiddies who obviously had all to do with its disappearance swore blind they knew nothing about my baggage which was enough to fill a small portakabin going missing... this garden centre full of orangeries and fern-filled hothouses (lovely post-Victorian greenhousery... and not a teacher in sight. So there I am devoid of a single possession and the trip's over before it's begun. Lovely. So that's my dreams. Sorry about that: had to get them off my chest...

Now as for the Roborovski Trotters they do indeed smell of a barnyard because they've shredded an entire copy of The Sun into luxury bedding that I don't have the heart to remove. Also all my hammies have been feasting on Mr Kipling's exceedingly yummy winter mince pies. They had nearly an entire pie between the four of them (the robos plus Pingpong my reclusive Chinese hammy)... of course most of these pies have been stashed and I haven't the heart to remove this either... So they shall go on ponging for a while as they thorougly enjoy scuttling in and between a pile of kitchen roll, tinfoil and clingfilm tubes so extensively piled up they are three tube-storeys deep. It's a mince pie laden, Sun newspaper chomping snigglywiggle winter wonderland of "exceedingly" vast proportions... as old Mr Kipling would drone...

Now my "Baby" Itchy has learnt a new trick: to ping down my sleeve, scurry behind my shoulder blades and emerge astonished-looking at the other sleeve, ready to pop out and ping all round again.

But woe betide me should I dare squeak something like "hello you tiny little swine! Are you looking surprised?! Are you tiny?! You ARE..." and then place venturesome fingers at said sleeve-opening as she emerges. Back she'll rear, taking extreme umbrage and terror at my horrible human-smelling hand, diving back into the human-smelling tunnel of my elbow-sleeve where she's convinced she's secure. (But woe betide I but a hand up the sleeve from up the inside. This provokes panick of such pinging proportions she literally comes flying out underneath my hand like a roborovski cannon ball... shooting across the blur of my duvet... landing pillow-wise, dazed and wondering how on earth she got there. The silly swine!

Righty-ho, it's taken approaching half an hour to post this: my 50p is up! So I'd better go. I hope you had a cheery weekend, y'all and no nightmares!

I'm off to attack 300g of four cheeses stuffed pasta (tortelloni) ~ Morrisons special offer at 99p a pack. So I got 4...

L8Rs!¬ ;->...

Eartha Kitt "+ friends": Santa Baby