Timmy had spotted her in a department store while shopping for socks.  She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.  She seemed shy, demure even, with strawberry blonde hair.  Timmy was smitten, he had to know her name.  It didn’t take long for the besotted fellow to found out either.  Her name was Tammy.  Now Tammy was not a name he had thought of as enchanting before, now he did.  He’d say her name over and over again, and smile.  Eventually Timmy pluck up the courage to ask her out.  This was the beginning of a whirlwind romance that was kept a secret until his Mum found out.  She walked in on them one night.  The tension it created was awful, Timmy’s Mum didn’t approve. And she was not a woman known to change her mind, no matter how hard you tried.  So the lovebirds planned to elope.  But about this time things started to go wrong.  Timmy had started to suspect she was not being entirely honest with him.  They argued incessantly.  Sadly these arguments started to get physical and he hit her on many occasions.  One day the rage in him was so great, he attacked her with a baseball bat, he broke one her arms and legs and caused her face to cave in.  She didn’t die of course, as she was never actually alive, she was a mannequin.  But still the moment was a sad one for Timmy. 

Though being the resourceful sort of man he is, he got over it, and is now seeing a lovely brunette from the Selfridge’s window display.  His mother still doesn’t approve.        

There was a man who owned a Spike Milligan gene.  It was a very rare item indeed.  Some say that only five are still in existence.  Though there is no official record that can prove or disprove this.  The man that owned this particular Spike Milligan gene had hoped that by owning it, he would swiftly become famous, amassing a sizeble fortune.  Alas this is not how it panned out.  It seems that the Milligan gene had become something of a curse for the unwitting man. 

Every since he found the gene, he’s life had gone from normal every day gloominess to unbearable misery.  Why? I sense you wonder.  Well, again the records are pretty hazy, but from what we could piece together, there’s the suggestion that he had become far too funny.  It was clear he’s comedic skills had been fairly non-existent before.  But once in possession of the gene, he couldn’t stop being humourous.  When people were around him, they would laugh non-stop.  So much so that it caused their stomachs to hurt. This in effect caused people to keep their distance from him.  His wife and kids had to leave the country to maintain some sort of normal existence.

This enforced isolation eventually drove the man insane.  Records show the man was found in a Earls Court bedsit on Friday 7th April 1989 with his trousers round his ankles, clutching a banana skin in each hand and a clown mask over his head.  The autopsy report said he had died of suffocation.  Their verdict was that it was an accidental death.

There have been no reported sightings of the Spike Milligan gene since the death of the man. 

Day 1 

 I’m in my new home. It’s a bedsit in a old buiding, the floor boards creak.  The icy cold weather has made the condensation in the room rampant.  My guess is it won’t take long for everything to begin to smell mouldy and feel damp. 

The landlord dropped by today.  He wanted to see if I settled in ok.  He says I can call him Jasper.  He goes on to explain he’s a ladies’ man, he collects women like some collect stamps.  He follows them from the bars and clubs, and when the opportunity arises he shrinks them to the size of thimbles, and then sews then into the lining of his jacket.  Not sure I believe everything Jasper tells me.  Though in the awkward silences, in-between our slurps of tea, I’m pretty sure I can hear the faint sound of women sobbing.

Day 3

Took to staring at my toenails for a good 45mins.  There pretty long and really quite repulsive.  I felt nauseous after the starathon.  How do I every hope to meet the woman of my dreams, or any woman at that, with toenails as hideous as these.  I tell myself it makes me unique, and this can only ever be a good thing.  I’m not convinced.

The scratching sounds from the walls were louder today.  I’m not looking forward to the day that mystery unfolds.

Day 4

 A quizzical infant about 3ft in height, knocked on the door today.  He was carrying a bible under one arm, and a bowling bag in the other. He explained the Led Zeppelin track I continual play is annoying the neighbours.  According to the infant, I must stop such behaviour, or I will tempt the wrath of god to act unkindly towards me.  In the meantime, I could pay penance if I just purchase some tea towels and dish cloths that he has brought with him.  I feel awkward, so I give him a fiver and take three tea towels, each with a different floral design.

Day 5

I now know the cause of the scratching sounds coming from the wall.  It’s Cockroaches.  Though they like nothing I’ve ever seen before.  Their light blue, and look almost translucent.  I ring Jasper about it.  He doesn’t sound surprised.  He’s had this problem many times before.  There ghost roaches, real buggers to get rid of.  He’ll call the ghost pest control company in the morning.  I can hear a strange slurping sound in the background as he talks, followed by loud crunching sounds.  He hangs up without saying goodbye.

Day 6

I get woken up by a heavy knock on the door at 7.40am.  It’s the Ghost pest control man.  He’s names Chopper and he’s an annoyingly chirper fella.  I want to punch him, but I’m just too tired.  I offer him a cup of tea instead.

I’m sitting outside Cafe Nero.  A crosstant and a cappuccino are on my table.  The sunny sky is blue.  I rip into the croissant, crumbs fall all around me.  Before I can take my first mouthful, I spot the pigeon on the pavement staring at me.  It waddles towards me, then stops to stare at me again.  Other pigeons descend on the pavement.  He takes the lead as they all waddle in unison, coming closer.  Now there are many ways I could handle this situation.  But there is something different about the look this pigeon is giving me.  It’s as if he knows my every thought, he knows, and it terrifies me.  Do I walk away, can I walk way…

I saw the cat looking at me!  Why was it staring at me, want the hell did it want?  The ginger beast didn’t move, it just continued to stare.  Thoughts raced through my mind.  If I moved, would it be provoked it into a crazed psychotic rage, making a beeline a for my throat.  Or did I stay where I was and hope he got bored……

Harold was an investment banker.  To those close to him, he was known as a w&nker. 

He bought drinks for everyone alright. But when it came to affection he was pretty tight.

Some say his childhood was awful. He’s mum and dad had been unlawful.

He thought that by making lots of dosh. He could convince people that he was posh.

But he had lost the meaning of life. That character is built with plenty of strife.

By making his bed silky and comfy. He was no better than a performing monkey.