I overslept last night, all the way into tomorrow. I was having a marvellous dream. We were in Happy Land - a place built solely for pleasure by the Ancient Victorians, filled with rococo delights for free. I was in a tizzy, trying to find an unoccupied toilet but I kept dashing back to you - telling you I was still searching, still nursing a desperately full bladder. Unsuccessful, unrelieved - I could find no relief in Happy Land. You were exasperated and incredulous. There were joyous crowds of people I know from the box-sets I watch on TV, all of them linking arms and crazyglad at the prospect of limitless fun, deciding to start with ice-cream, cakes and jelly. Wait for me! I need a wee! Endless occupied toilet doors later, I found one swinging open in the corner of a grotto. It led to a palatial marble bathroom. The toilet was crazed purple porcelain with a plush furry seat and a musical loo-roll was spinning round and round in dizzying circles, playing antiquated Sex Pistols tunes. There were sculptures of fabulous Fish Ladies, serpentine and sensual, wrapped around the cistern. They had eyes like stoned goldfish, spread lips like Koi carp and their girly gills were well gilded. Through the bow window behind me I saw many sculptures of breasts of all sizes, laid out on a feasting table, with snails slithering over them and the nipples on these breasts were open mouths with their tiny tongues lapping the air. The Fish Lady nearest to me said: 'That's how the Victorian's got their kicks.' I felt a tremor of warmth in my uterus and I knew those little buggers could turn me on, too. And I said to her: 'How long have you been stuck here, beautifying the place?' And she said: 'Hundreds of years - can't you tell?' And I said: 'You must be bored stiff.' And she said: 'Course not, luv - I'm daft.' As I released a hot stream of urine into her toilet I saw your head and shoulders propped on the edge of a cliff, in sharp focus, photoshopped into epileptic brights, lips glossed, hair clean - waiting for me impatiently. You broke the spell of muddy wallow. Sometimes when I'm dreaming I forget I'm alive. Sometimes when I dream I am happy.

I fear there is no God I know there is no God I fear this I fear I have no faith I fear death I fear love I fear responsibility I fear there is no one person I could love completely and forever I fear myself I fear my body and brain I fear my addictive nature and the way it tricks me I fear my mood swings and instability I fear money I fear poverty I fear my anger I fear aging I fear fat I fear food I fear relapse I fear my perversity I fear my sexuality I fear I will not get what I fear I want I fear what I want I fear I will not get what I need I fear I will not get what I need let alone want I fear lonely drunken drugged up defeat I fear arthritis I fear hip replacement I fear ugliness and stupidity I fear violence I fear war I fucking hate it when I can't get through to you I fear people I fear outer space and the Ku Klux Klan and gas chambers and murder and rape and vikings on horseback who will slash my spine and pull out my lungs to make the sign of the eagle