The lights are out

So I says to ya, "look at me, I was fat and unhappy and now I'm looking okay, if you don't believe me, I'll post a pic for you."

I should have known that having said that, it would completely jinx the whole thing.

Arriving home tonight, the usual parking space is buried under a mound of earth about the size of a small van. There is an EDF energy truck in the road and none of the street lamps are working.

One of the guys in the lumo jackets says I shouldn't expect the lights to be on anytime this evening.

Yes, I am sat in a poxy internet cafe run by a bunch of robed Somalian dissidents. It seems the only way they know how to communicate is by shouting.

According to the poster above my head, I can phone India, Pakistan and Nigeria for just 5p a minute.

Since I don't know anyone in those countries I can't take up the offer. Obviously I'm gutted about this.

Earlier at the gym I was desperate to spot Mr Blobby - the man I am supposed to be marrying. He ain't there and neither is Rory.

And then the battery on my iPod runs out. Bollocks. I give up, shower and leave.

Do you know, I kinda had a premonition that I was going to have a bad day, when I left for work this morning.

You know how some people throw out things like old TVs and printers and leave them on the pavement? This morning I had to walk around an abandoned toilet that someone had tossed out.

I should have known that that wasn't a good sign.

Now I hate to beg but... listen - the lights at home aren't going to be on until tomorrow sometime. Of course, I can't spend an evening in the dark on my own.

If anyone has a space in a spare bedroom, or their own bed that they'd be willing to give up for one night only, I promise not to fart.

Failing that, I may have to resurrect my Gaydar account, to find someone who's looking for an overnighter. If that doesn't work I could go to the sauna in Vauxhall and hire a cabin for the night.

So that photo I promised of me is going to have to wait for another day.

Right now there's a woman in a robe in one of the phonebooths along the wall down at the bottom of this internet cafe shouting like crazy into the phone.

I don't know why she's even bothering to use the phone. I bet if they all shut up in Senegal they could probably hear her from here.

At least she'd save about 7p a minute.