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HEY, it’s the Duke of Sussex here. The artist formerly known as HRH. Good old Harry. Although I’m actually called Henry, apparently. I only just found out. Weird.

What if the stars are one giant dot-to-dot we must complete to reveal how the universe works? Can we get astrophysicists on that?

WAKING in a gutter in Lambeth with a hangover that is causing my head to rotate like an owl’s, I realise I have no memory of who I am; it seems the brain cells containing that vital information have been urinated away. 

IT all came into focus with that vulgar orange, green and white balaclava. Everything wrong with our world has a single cause: pop music.

EXPRESSING your desire to take things up a notch in the bedroom when you’re wide awake with faith in your libido and/or dick is only the first step.

Following Red Light Spells Danger with Get Outta My Dreams, Get into My Car is Billy Ocean telling you he’s fighting an unsuccessful battle against picking up streetwalkers.

WAKING with a hangover so intense I feel it would require a guillotine rather than an aspirin to remedy, I reflect on the passing of Pope Francis and my decision to apply for his job.

I’M taking myself off on a little holiday. After a google I opted for Budapest, with its cheap beer, stunning architecture and rich history. Although if my history was mainly ‘collaborating with the Nazis’ I’d keep quiet about it.

If your town needs something to put it on the map, that's not the fault of the town but the map. Maps should have all the places on them. That's the point of maps.

WAGWAN? Heaster is here, fam. An’ it is usually da time to celebrate chocolate, but Active J is a gangsta crew bossman hadult now, bustin’ a peng goatee, innit. An’ da Heaster Bunny is only for toddlers.