Recently I have been looking through my resume, not for any particular reason, just thought it should be up-to-date. Anyway, I was reading it and found that I have listed ‘Mirror Writing’ as a skill.

What is ‘Mirror Writing’ I hear you ask, well it’s writing normal letters and words in a way that can only be read properly, from left to right, when it’s reflected in a mirror. Pretty cool right?

‘Mirror Writing’ starts on the right, and goes left, and for a left-hander like me, it flows better. I’m a bit out of practice though, my signature is ‘Mirror Writing’, but otherwise I haven’t used this skill over the past few years.

So, can I still classify ‘Mirror Writing’ as a skill?

I am convinced that one day I will be able to travel in time.

My reasoning is very simple. I am an ideas man, and I have amazing ideas. Some are good, some are not so good, but the not so good ones generally just need a bit of refinement. And my ideas are original.

The problem is that a lot of my ideas don’t seem original. Occasionally someone will tell me that my original idea already exists, or is in the making. Meaning that my original ideas don’t seem that original.

But I still think they are. And therefore a future version of myself must be traveling back in time and mentioning these ideas to others. My future self must be a practical joker.

I did a handstand yesterday, it was pretty impressive.

Now before you start thinking about my feet in the air and hands on the ground, let me tell you what I mean when I say ‘handstand’.

When I say ‘handstand’, I mean that my hand was used to stand something on. Like a hatstand or a lampstand.

Yesterday I was outside and somebody asked me to hold their hat. I’m not sure why, but they did. And so I remained in the same spot, holding their hat.

I did this for over an hour, until they remembered that I had their hat. I was a pretty impressive handstand.

I would like some flowers, some edible flowers.

I am not the kind of person that admires flowers for long periods. I think they’re pretty, but they’re a decoration, and not my style of decoration (I prefer football shirts hanging everywhere). But if I could eat flowers they would become the coolest thing ever.

It would combine the beauty of flowers and the deliciousness of food. I would suggest that each flower is a flavour of chocolate. Roses could be cherry flavoured chocolate. Daffodils could be caramel flavour. I would enjoy my flowers so much more, and on two different levels.

It would also save money. The ‘I love you’ combo for every husband is flowers and chocolate. Imagine if you only had to buy edible flowers, it would save money.

And I think that would be a perfect date. I would bring edible flowers, we could admire them while we eat dinner, and then eat the flowers for desert. Perfect.

One of my favourite games to play is hide and seek. It’s nice and simple and can be played anywhere.

I remember a game with a friend of mine, it was about 12 years ago. We were in an empty room, no furniture or cupboards. Just a door, a few windows, and a painting on the wall.

She wanted to hide first, so I closed my eyes and counted to ten. When I opened my eyes she was gone. I turned right and couldn’t see her, I turned left, same result. I turned around but still couldn’t find her.

Then I heard her giggling right behind me. So I looked behind me and there she was! She had been hiding behind me the whole time!

I told her to count to ten while I found a hiding spot. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I opened the door quietly and ran away. She still hasn’t found me.

I was playing football this afternoon, I was at the back. We played a back four and I was one of the centre-backs, I read the game well, and I’m comfortable with the ball at my feet. Anyway, just before I left there was an attack down the right. I was marking someone in the centre, but the keeper came to collect. Once he had the ball we centre-backs split and I received the ball from the keeper, controlled it and looked up before playing a pass. Then I had to go.

I had to pick up a friend from a nearby café. I jogged to meet her and we came back via the game of football. Unfortunately, it had finished. The field was empty and I was disappointed.

As we walked back to my place it began to get a bit steep, and soon there was a cliff in front of us. There must have been an Earthquake, maybe that’s why they stopped playing football. Anyway, we decide to climb this cliff, we managed to climb it easily. I have good upper body strength. But as I was almost at the top, the rock I was holding fell, and so did I.

Then I hit the floor and woke up.

Recently I had an idea, it could be a movie, or a book, or a TV series.

Here it is: What if choice could kill?

Say people lived in a world where they had a minute to make a decision, and if they didn’t make their decision in that time, they would explode.

It would create more jobs, there would be ‘Indecision Explosion Clean-Up Units’ (IECU), ‘Decision Makers International’ (DMI), and labs everywhere looking for a cure.

A TV series could follow the IECU as they race through shopping centres cleaning up because people couldn’t decide between the blue one or the red one.

A movie could follow the life of a DMI worker. Every day he takes calls from stressed people to help them make their decision, often with less than 30 seconds. And the movie would be about how he comes to terms with hearing a person explode for the first time.

It would certainly be an interesting world, and I’m sure there would be plenty of stories in it, like the guy who couldn’t decide if he wanted fries with his meal…

He killed another one on the weekend.

A ninety year old woman. No signs of forced entry, we didn’t find any prints or forensic evidence. He never leaves a trace at the crime scene, but I reckon he’s the culprit of over a hundred murders.

The woman had no cuts or bruises on her, there was no struggle. That’s not his style, he’s a poisons man. It seems that the heart just stops, but I’m on to him. I bet he has made his own poison that’s untraceable.

I know who it is, I just can’t track him down. Every one that’s close to the victim says the same thing when I interview them. It’s surely no coincidence, it’s the guy I’m looking for. They all say it was Old Age…

It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back!

It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back!

It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back! It’s back!

The English Premier League is back.

Let me tell you a story…

A while ago I was hanging out with some friends. We were having a typical conversation, there were about six or seven of us, I can’t remember too well.

Anyway, I was talking and then one of my friends asks me, “Does this hurt?” And before I can answer she punches me in the face as hard as she can. And it hurt! But because I want to be strong I say, “No, that didn’t hurt.”

So she asks me again, “Does this hurt?” and then she punches me in the face again, in exactly the same spot! And it hurts twice as much! But again I say, “Doesn’t hurt.”

By now I was pretty dazed, and I think I was bleeding, but she asks me again, “Does this hurt?” Which is followed by another punch to the face. I can remember her hand connecting with my cheekbone, but that’s the last thing I remember.

Three hours later I woke up in the hospital, with her and some other friends beside my bed. They tell me that after eight punches I fell to the ground. And after a few kicks they took me to the hospital. They’re the best friends.

Moral of the story: It’s okay to punch someone in the face if you first ask them, “Does this hurt?” And take them to the hospital afterwards.