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There were wolves where previously there was not wolves 
I'd had 'Massive Piss Hoover' tattooed along my lower back.
A little gypsy was in the toilet crying and burping
I was married to my toaster - and I'd cheated on it with the George Foreman Grill. Also, my penis was burned.
I'd annexed Poland.
Surprised the shit out of my date-rapist.
I'd left my car lights on and parked it haphazardly, sideways through my dining room wall.
My collection of prostitute-bits had doubled in size.
Moira Stewart was quietly snoring on my left.
Some cad had shat in my trousers and vomited down my front.
Got on with my day as usual, because I'm a northerner.
All the money in my wallet had been replaced with raw bacon
I'd obviously had a dirty protest, probably about something I felt quite strongly about.
shat out my mobile phone as the vibrations aroused me from my stupor. The call, and preceeding 35 missed calls were apparently from Trevor McDonald!
There was shit in my pubes.
The Haitian girl still wasn't breathing.
I'd lost my glasses, and had to go round 10 pubs asking if they'd found a pair of glasses, and getting the same joke answer in every single one.
Someone had clogged up the toilet with pigeons and kebab wrappers
I'd ebayed my house to a Nigerian gentleman
I decided to build a comedy website about lists
I'd written a load of incomprehensible shit on Listopia.
I was MP for Ashton-under-Lyne.
Some cunt had glued me to my backdoor.
I was still married.
A disadvantaged ethnic cobra was lying in my bed
I'd gambled away all the sausages in the freezer
Sunlight was streaming through the comprehensive array of fresh bullet holes in my roof
I'd been mugged - some cunt had hit me on the head, shat in my mouth and taken £75 from my wallet.
There was a new religious cult devoted to me, calling me "the great spandex rotator".
It was 1973. Am I mad, in a coma or just hung over and listening to Sarah Kennedy?
The former Shah of Iran had his tiny fist wrapped round my cock.
I was inexplicably fluent in Greek.
called my accountant to see if I could claim the bar-bill as MP's expenses.
I was still Prime Minister.
I was on a pulley system, being lowered onto a naked Dale Winton....he licked his lips with a barely audible "unm ungh num num"
I'M ON A BOAT
I realised he was doing my heart surgery all wrong!
I was completely naked except for a pair of basketball boots.
My hands smelled like I'd spent the night on a trawler!
Some chicken bones were stuck in my face
There was a lady's stomach discovered on my foot
There was jam, like, everywhere.
I'd told a journalist how I pushed some bloke off a cliff in the 60s. To do list: 1. Issue denial. 2. Place more ads in Viz for my Get Rich book.
My head really hurt, and I felt a bit sick. Some paracetamol and a glass of water sorted it out, though.
She had forks for eyes. I had no pies. Goodbyes.
My wet dream came to a shuddering halt, when I realised Jeremy Beadle's right hand was beating away at my poor, excited member.
THAT WASN'T TWO GIRLS
remembered that just as the fit girl at my school reunion said 'I'm sure I'd remember someone as handsome as you' I slid off the chair and wet myself.
Not only had I pissed myself but
my nightly guffing caused more
Haitian Earthquakes!
I'd replaced my right leg with a hockey stick.
...drank 8 Pints of Lager. 8 Vodka Shots. 8 more pints of lager.
Maddy caressed my so hair gently, that I may have spaffed on her newspaper cuttings.
a big bearded man was sitting on
a cloud looking at me and tutting
disapprovingly
osama bin laden was in the
shower trying to scrub away his
sins
I'd married the bloody lot of them!
spent several minutes screaming
"My eyes are facing backwards!!"
before my neighbour shouted
"Open them you dozy twat"
