Find me a nice cardboard box

You know the house I found in London that I really really liked? I didn’t get it. The existing inhabitants gave the spare room to a friend of theirs, which is fair enough. I’d have done the same, in all honesty. Strange, somewhat grumpy man with predication for bad puns versus someone I know. No contest.

However, this leaves me in the rather unenviable situation of being technically homeless in two weeks time. I’ve got a back-up, which should see me through but how many more days of admiring bad soft furnishings can a man take? And how will my cactus cope? Ok, so I never water my cactus. That’s not the point.

Watching Heroes last night, one possible solution struck me. I could become Christopher Eccleston and turn invisible. But that plan has three flaws.

1. I’m not Christopher Eccleston and am unlikely to become so.

2. I can’t turn invisible.

3. Where does his character, Claude, stay? I mean, surely it’d be a bit awkward if you found a nice comfy bed then then owner gets in a few hours into your kip.

Sometimes I think I may be confusing TV with reality too much. I’m also very concerned about my possibly metamorphosis into not Christopher Eccleston but Zach Braff who, while generally good, is no Christopher Eccleston and is a lot more neurotic.

The Doctor wouldn’t have stood for all this. But then he has a blimmin’ great Tardis.

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