Nothing like as exciting as the one I had at the weekend, though, where I got experimentally turned into a small, golden-haired monkey by the mad scientist working for the local Disaster Preparedness Committee and her chortling dinosaur assistant, while a huge cupboard full of the preserved heads of Local Councillors assured me that this was all above board and what the people wanted. Being a monkey wasn't as much fun as you'd think, and I couldn't stop worrying about why the dinosaur had said, "you can consider this to be your colonic" before bathing my head in confusing golden light. Had I misheard? Did the dinosaur not know what "colonic" meant? Did it mean something different if you were a dinosaur?
I had a sinking feeling (not helped by timscience, who was mostly concerned that I shouldn't blame the dinosaur, who was just following orders and doubtless had a sweetheart and a clutch of eggs to support) that it was all somehow my fault, and that as a Government worker I should have known that something like this was sure to happen. That I might even have worked on the project during the consultation rounds.
Probably with a poll that loooked something like this:
Age: I am
Ethnicity: I consider myself to be
Proximity to Flood Plain: I live in
Increasing floods: I am worried about
Options: In the event of further floods I would be prepared to consider:
Any more suggestions, ideas or concerns?
In case you're wondering, the swamp zone is the ghetto where the dinosaurs live.
I've been ill. I may still be a little feverish.