As it turns out living with Fabian Wildman is a mix of bad and good. For one thing his vinyl collection is great, full of all these really old records from the forties onwards. He doesn't have anything post-1980. There's some real gems in there including a song called Who Put The Benzedrine In Mrs. Murphy's Ovaltine by some guy called Harry The Hipster. Me and Fabian Wildman sat and played it again and again laughing away to ourselves as we smoked crack. I can't wait to see what else he has in there.



After that I went to sleep and woke up to find him wandering round the living room speaking in tongues. I shouted at him a few times but he just kept doing it. I started to wonder if he was sleepwalking so I stuck my foot out and he fell on his head.

"What did you do that for?" he asked.
"Quit that freaky shit, you're not living with a Satanist anymore."
"Oh sorry," he said, sitting down and going to sleep.
He'd better not turn out to be a weirdo or I'll set my big violent dog on him (I'm getting him tomorrow).