9:00am – I wake up in bed beside a woman so sexy that she makes Audrey Hepburn from the 50s (really nice) look like Audrey Hepburn now (corpse/some bones). Last night we made love, and I can remember the WHOLE thing. She wakes up and says: “Wow, I’m still thinking about that sex, you were bloody brilliant…” I say: “Last night? Brilliant? That was actually incredibly standard for me.” You understand? Because of how good I am at it normally.
9:05am – Eat large lasagna.
9:10am – I read the newspaper. Front page headline is that the bloke who trained dogs to smell Alzheimer’s has now trained them how to give people back massages, and they ain’t half bad. I also read that Adam Stibbs – the guy I met in Asda who asked me if I was wearing my leather jacket ironically – has fallen down a well, and tragically, he’s absolutely dead.
9:15am – The woman from earlier asks if we can make love again and I say no.
9:20am – My doorbell rings. I answer the door to a frazzled-looking man with a labcoat on and scorchmarks on his face. He says, “This is going to sound insane but you need to believe me. The future of this planet is in danger, and you’re the only man who can save us. In my hand is a quantum chronology spectrometer, or in layman’s terms…a time machine-” I headbutt the annoying nerd, knock him out, nick the time machine, and briefly go back in time to 1974. I go to my childhood bully’s house and give him PTSD by showing him clips of Hereditary and telling him it’s a documentary.
9:25am – Get dressed.
9:30am – I find a bitcoin behind the back of the sofa.
9:35am – I reach for a can of Lilt and it explodes as soon as I touch it. I realise I have developed super strength. I go to the GP, who explains I’ve actually always had it, and it’s a natural result of my muscles (big), but I’ve just never noticed before. I pick him up and put him on my shoulders and it’s literally not even heavy at all. We run around the car park for a bit, and it’s a right laugh. Everyone agrees I would make a very good fireman.
9:40am – I watch two ants get married, whilst I Google their life expectancy and cry my bleedin’ tits off.
9:45am – I stand outside Pizza Hut holding up placards of unborn fetuses and shouting, “you should be ashamed of yourselves,” to customers as they go in. The manager asks what I’m doing, but I refuse to tell him.
9:50am – Go to the toilet.
8:00pm – Bedtime.
Sam Eley is Basil Crumbwick: Soul Sewage, Monkey Barrel Comedy, until 30 Aug (not 18), 11.25pm