With only the slightest of fanfare from the meagre crowd of a few hundred people waiting in the damp and the cold, I was greeted as I returned to my home country and set foot off the plane with awe and respect by my fellow countrymen. “Huzzah!” They shouted, “He has returned from his voyage of discovery to impart forth words of wisdom upon us! Let us bow down before his might”. Try as I might to go anywhere inconspicuously these days, my plans for peace and tranquillity are always blighted by the insatiable desire of my adoring public to catch a glimpse of me, if only for a moment, so that they can feel that their everyday lives have been made that little bit more exciting and thrill-packed by it.

For the past week, I have been living in a remote and isolated town high up in the Pyrenees mountain range where I have been surviving on nothing more than a few grains of rice and a cup of water a day. My purpose for this journey was to rediscover my inner self and to find my peace with the world. I feel I have achieved something along these lines although, now that I have returned to the consumer driven world of everyday life, I find the lessons I have learned slipping from my mind.

I slept in a cold, stone-floored basement for the duration of my stay. Every morning, I would be forced out of my damp and squalid bed mere hours before the dawn pierced the freezing darkness with its thin, dusty rays. I would then be marched down to the stable where I would be made to clean and scrub every inch of the place with a damp pipe-cleaner. After a few hours of this rigorous and life-assuring activity, I would be allowed to breakfast on a grain of rice and a thimbleful of water. Feasting on this veritable feast, I thought about all the luxuries I enjoy back home, and how I would cope should I be forced to exist without objects such as a toaster, a microwave and my wind-up Noel Edmonds action figurine.

After breakfast, I would travel down to the local tavern where I would be made to soak up all of the previous nights spilt lager with my eyebrows and at the same time forced to come up with new and fresh plotlines for the popular Australian soap “Neighbours”, which apparently can be sold on the black market for prices upwards of half a million dollars. I, of course, would not see a single penny of this. At sunset, after a long, tiring day, I would be allowed a few minutes rest and I would be given my second grain of rice for the day. I savoured these moments, as they offered me the chance of some respite from my challenging schedule when I could be alone with my thoughts and continue working on that most unsolvable problem – how to find a use for old sandpaper.
My evenings were also a time of great inner discovery. From roughly 6pm until I was permitted to sleep at some time just after 2am, I was employed by the local cinema to watch films. But not any old films, oh no. I was forced to watch all seven Police Academy movies that had been dubbed into German. I learned a lot during this time. Mainly, I learned that Steve Guttenberg is a terrible actor and that my insistence on making funny noises every time I am out with friends is possibly not as hilarious as I have always though