Kiefer never had it so good.

Frankly this 'blog' hasn't featured enough hardcore mollusc porn, so I've included the above picture, taken outside my cave last night. For those of you not au fait with slugs getting it on (this includes me) I believe the scene depicted above is just after the money shot, as they'd mostly retracted their disturbing white things and not long afterwards one of them detached itself from the half metre of mucus on which they were suspended and slithered off to tell its friends.

I thought you might be interested in how an interesting person like me spends one of my many days. I'll start at the beginning, and it goes a little something like this...

12am Consider turning off computer.

12:30am Try that again.

1am Get ready for bed. Brush teeth. Look at self in bathroom mirror. Cry.

2am Put away book and try to sleep.

3am Toy with notion of just getting up again.

4am Dream about touching girls' bottoms, talking to pigs and spaceships.

5am Wake up after marrying the pig. On one hand not so pleased about waking up, on other quite happy about dream not getting as far as consummation.

6am Wake up again. Wish this hadn't happened. Flail about until ensnared by tangled sheets. Pass out.

7am Same as above.

8am Same again. Too tired to get up.

9am Alarm clock begins its optimistic call to arms.

9:01am Alarm emphatically stopped.

9:30am Crawl out of bed, in direction of bathroom.

10am Wake up in shower.

10:10am Trousers go on other way round. Spray antiperspirant on mirror. Down orange juice. Brush teeth. Not enough time for breakfast, put banana in bag instead.

10:20am Based on weather, choose bus or bike. Bus will be full of bronzed students (student newspaper has special "tanning now summer's over" edition) and bag people and takes longer. Bike doesn't have effective A/C and is apparently invisible to some car drivers.

10:30am-10:45am If bike was chosen, arrive at work, wring out shirt and hang it on back of chair. Put on spare shirt. If bus was chosen, arrive much later after managing to prise oneself out of flesh sandwich on bus.

11am Use news.bbc.co.uk to establish that UK hasn't sunk beneath the waves of a foaming sea of bickering during the night.

11:15am Try to remember what I've been doing.

11:25am Recollection comes and adds to growing sense of unease. Look at scrawled notes on pieces of paper and establish that no inspiration has occurred overnight.

12pm Go for lunch. Join with colleagues in deriding, well pretty much everyone really. Go for coffee afterwards.

1:pm-1:30pm Return from lunch. Consider going home. Choose to stick with it.

2pm Look at pieces of paper until finally settling on course of action. Sail course like a seaman who's been drinking a heady cocktail of seawater and his own urine for two weeks.

3pm Continue blundering until students come to ask my boss to do their homework for them. Seek refuge in library.

4pm Leave library because creepy guy has sat opposite me, even though all the other chairs are free.

5:30-5:45pm Return home using whatever means necessary. Tolerate people asking the bus driver stupid questions, or cycle over hills past lurching jogzombies.

6pm Vegetate to the soothing sounds of neighbours running up and down stairs with support from their bawling child.

7pm Start working again. Still nothing happening. Turn on stereo and listen to doowop. Sing along. Hope neighbours don't like it.

7:23pm Sudden recollection! Rummage through bag and uncover crushed banana. Throw away.

8pm-9pm Consider food. If lucky there will be 'one I made earlier' in the fridge, suitable for reheating, rather than incineration. If not, boil some eggs or something. Debate whether peanut butter is a food group.

10pm Browse internet. After reading latest informed debate become furious, turn green, grow to four times normal size, ripping clothes in process and crash through door, showering the street with splinters and fragments of brick. Fight crime, mainly by breaking crates and throwing barrels. Come round in supermarket, buying washing up liquid and bananas.

11pm Last stab at work. Words on page no longer correlate with activity in brain. Despair. Resort to internet again. Seethe.

Well it's having so much to live for that keeps me going, and seeing it all written down like that, I have to say I'm filled with pride and an enduring sense of achievement. I'm hoping for a different dream at some point though.