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Waking up with my head pounding to a Burundi rhythm, my tongue akin to a sofa left out in the desert for six weeks, I take a moment to reflect on the events of the past seven days.

FIFTEEN-year-old Active J, known in his detached home as Joshua Hudson, has been told that if he doesn’t sell his old clothes they’ll be given to a charity shop.

LEFT-wing social justice politics is so Biden. Edgelord is the new woke. Right-wing extremism is blowing up in Europe and America. I had to get involved.

It’s nice that Judas is still counted as one of the apostles even after everything that went down.

WAKING up with a hangover so intense that anything I stare at turns bright green and melts, I reflect on the turbulence of the last few days.

I’VE held my tongue for too long. But I refuse to be silenced. It is time to speak my truth. And my truth is this: is it just me, or are KitKat Chunkys getting smaller?

CAN 28-year-old Helen Archer enjoy the company of Tom Logan, aged 32, without his stalker ex arriving and threatening her with a butter knife?

Expect a big romantic gesture this week! Because it’s Valentine’s Day, genius. Christ, we really are serving absolute bottom-feeders here.

WAKING up with a hangover whose reverberations were a contributory factor in the earthquakes that afflicted the Greek island of Santorini, I reflect on the past week. 

I WAKE, the sun glowing through the blinds. I rise, fling them aside, and gaze out from my timeshare onto the exclusive resort and spa once known as Gaza.