Hey,

Like, oh my god, its last week of term, its gone so fast etcetera fizzles out of excitement couldn't care less.

Not discounting the final week of term, which I'm sure will be simply super, darlings, lets go for a quick recap.

I started in October, like everyone else, a struggling artist, still trying to get regular gigs for me and my band. As luck would have it, we broke from our ambient jazz infused speed-thrash metal formula to create a disco number which merged a standard R'n'B beat with the looped sample of a old man falling out of a hammock. The accompanying MTV video was banned until after midnight for its distubing use of subliminal images advocating the use of the banned drug nandrolone in desserts and casseroles, but in doing so, a cult underground following was created.

A brief misunderstanding with the tax authorities meant that for a while I was indeed king of the underground, living in a burrow in Kent. While there, talking to a rodent called Nigel, I discovered a gift that would transform my life. I had developed a photographic memory, which coupled with the ability to print images on a naturally created paper from out of my buttocks led me to assume the role of human Polaroid camera. Doctors warned me that such a reputation could be bad for my health, and that I may fall ill with exposure.

The money was starting to role in.

Tragedy struck in November as all my limbs fell off. A nationwide Daily Mail campaign began to raise money to pay for me to go to zoo before the end, because it had always been my dream. As luck would have it, a miracle in the form of Dr Raymond Snitzelkraus occured, who offered to perform the operation free of charge, in exchange for lifetime tickets to our future shows. The operation was a complete success, as within ten minutes he had sewn my arms and legs back onto my body with a old Singer he found in his attic. With the extra thread, I was given back to gift of motion as a full time puppeteer was employed to stand above me and through him I learned to walk, run, swim, dance and laugh once more. However, his presence in the bedroom made it hard to keep a girlfriend, as his continual, borderline-racist jokes ruined the mood.

In the latter part of the month, I received mainstream musical acclaim as I joined 4000 other publicity whores for Band Aid 20, loudly shouting anti-capitalist slogans over the chorus in an attempt to endeare me with the British public. I later found out that my microphone had been cut out, my part erased off the final copy, and my face on the promotional photo covered up by an unrealistically sized ham sandwich. After the recording, I got into a fight with Bono, who I had caught muttering something defamatory as I walked past. The situation was looking like it was getting out of control before Justin Hawkins strode up to us, raised his hands and said "enough".

I am glad to say the future looks good.

I never made it to the zoo, but I keep the dream alive.

Craig