You remember how I told you flying was useful, well it is, mostly. Unfortunately we superheroes are not really allowed to let you guys see us fly, and if we do we are supposed to do it in disguise - hence all the capes, tights, masks and external underwear.

Sunday night I was trying to get from London to Leeds by train. I arrived at Kings Cross only to find that all the trains were cancelled because a Fleem Ray from a Xorgam battle cruiser had destroyed most of Welwyn Garden City. Of course the train people were trying to pass it off as a power line problem, but I knew better.

Anyway - there I was stuck in the station with about 30 kilos of computer equipment and I thought "Hang on - I could get into my lycra catsuit and fly up". Unfortunately there is nowhere to change in Kings Cross Station - the toilets cost 20p and I didn't have any change, and phone booths are a thing of the past. I ended up shoehorned onto the delayed 20.00 to Doncaster. Tsh!

Those of you who have been paying attention will remember that I recently spent some time in the future. I have only been allowed to return to the present time after agreeing to certain conditions: I must not mess with the present, I will not tell anybody about future events and I must not buy up every available share in "The Lifelike Sex Doll Company" who may or may not be about to announce a breakthrough in Sex Doll technology.

My lips are sealed.

(theirs on the other hand are bloody amazing!)

Anyhow, the Time Guardians were very kind and did OK a few uncontentious observations I wanted to make here, so here are a few notes from the year 2108:

1. Still no flying cars.

2. The Muties from the Rad Lands are a lot nicer than the movies would have you believe.

3. Three stone underweight or ten stone overweight is the norm. There is nothing in between.

4. Everyone is a Muslim at least one day a week.

5. Food replicators can make anything except for noodles, replicated noodles are horrible!

Now I am not one to complain, especially in restaurants, because you hear about the things restaurant staff do to people who complain, and I never did develop a taste for semen.

Anyway, the other day I really did have to complain. There was this hair in my Balti, which was pretty gross, and it was really curly too.

I resolved to be terribly English about the whole thing and not mention it, but when I tried to pick it out it appeared to be attached to something. I pulled harder and out came a cock, a whole severed dong!

Well I had to object to that.

They were very good about it, they replaced my meal free of charge, and even gave me a free beer, so it all turned out well.