No rest for Bad Pete

Obviously there are some risks involved with selling your soul to the devil in return for proper ROCK POWER. Why, only yesterday I tried to fire up some Satanic rock attitude by joining my brother in a gin and tonic at 4:40PM GMT but after a couple I realized that it just wasn’t happening and I decided to capitalise on the fact that he was going out by having a rare, limited edition early night. By ten o-clock I was tucked up in bed, reading a book about the evils of American foreign policy whilst some endorphins wrapped in blankets ran across the tarmac of my brain looking a bit bewildered. Then at 10:30 the lead singer in a famous pop group texted me to enquire if he had the right number, and fifteen minutes later I got another text, from Canada, wishing me a happy birthday and telling me I was much loved. The latter text was presumably a mistake (I was born in April, even if I do have some Canadian heritage) but you can see how there’s next to no rest for the wicked. Think I might go to the pub tonight. I’m sure Bobby’ll be up for it…