Like Joanna Lumley I am fairly convinced that I am the victim of a haunting by some malevolent spirit. Unlike Lumley it is not my home that is haunted, but the ghost or ghosts actually live somewhere about my person; most probably inside my head. This saves the ghoul or ghouls a lot of effort of having to move around themselves. They don't even have to use up all that psychic energy by actually appearing, they can simply do their naughty work from the inside whilst they lie back and relax amongst my internal organs.
You need proof of this? Today was a good example. I had been to the supermarket, which has a car-park incorporating barriers and tickets. As long as you don't park for longer than two hours your visit is free. You have to validate your ticket as you leave to prove how long you've stayed and then put it in the ticket machine at the end which will make the barrier lift.
I had got all my shopping bagged up in my trolley and I validated my ticket as I headed for my car. As I was validating it a voice in my head said, "I wonder what happens if you lose your ticket." I thought this was my own internal voice, but now I see it was almost certainly the voice of a ghost of some kind. The ghost was imitating my internal voice (which sounds like I imagine that my voice sounds - not that my voice sounds like I imagine it. I am always disappointed when I hear myself on the radio or whatever how nerdy and odd my voice is. From inside it sounds great. I wish you were all in my head so you can hear how great it is. But unfortunately my head is full of ghosts), which shows just how sneaky these internal parasitic ghosts could be.
Having had the thought that the ticket would be inconvenient to lose I was determined not to lose it in the fifty yard walk to my car. However, once I'd loaded up my bags and sat down in the driving seat I realised the ticket had mysteriously disappeared. Even though I had taken especial care not to lose it. I checked all my pockets three or four times, but the ticket had definitely gone. Only a ghost could have moved it and unless Sainsbury's in Chiswick is built on an ancient Red Indian burial ground, the only explanation to this dematerialisation of a piece of card must be that I am haunted. Not mental, not absent-minded or clumsy. No. Haunted.
The ghosts then made me drive to the exit barrier anyway, in the hope that it might just open for me. Or that the ticket might reappear. I would never do something so stupid unless under the control of some unseen force. I would know that it would just mean I would become trapped at the barrier, with other cars behind me and then be forced into making a tight turn, with cars entering the carpark all the time, thus inconviencing several other shoppers.
Of course now I am not under the power of ghosts (they must be asleep) I can see that. So it must have been the ghosts that made me act so stupidly.
Anyway, I'd better stop writing now as the ghosts are telling me that I must kill all women. I'll write tomorrow and let you know how that goes. Rememeber, once I have killed all women you are witnesses that the murders were the ghosts' fault, not mine.
