I'll put it down to all the hard work. I've been flat out since Wednesday arvo and I was seeing things. Visions from my past, spectres from my mis-spent youth. That must be it. It had to be. I was back in the 90's. How so? I just turned round to look at the telly. The telly I'd left on with the sound off and there, on the S'Siddey Footy Show, staring back at me from under an evenly smeared veneer of brown face paint was the fat fuckin' phiz of Greg Ritchie. Amazingly the Fat Cat was dressed in a sheet and doing his Mahatma Coat shtick. Fuck me! Enough! I'm to bed.