Out of the frying pan, and into the fire.......

Psst…..hello, Andy here. I can’t be long as I think my friend Norman has told you, I am in the Matron’s office, covertly! I don’t know what the hell I’m doing in here, I keep telling everyone, there is nothing wrong with me. Been about a week now that I have been held against my wishes. They keep telling me it’s for my own good. And where the bloody hell is Miss Marple? I suppose Norman told you about the file in the cake fiasco. Very bloody amusing, I don’t know what she is playing at. Apparently I had a funeral and everything. Anyway, everybody in here is absolutely stark raving bloody mental. In the cell, sorry, I mean room next to me, there is a woman who is convinced she is Cleopatra. She tried taking a bath in asses milk yesterday, well I say a bath of asses milk, does a foot spa with two pints of semi skimmed count? You will never believe who is in the room on the other side of me, only Jim bloody Davidson! Yes, apparently he was brought straight here after being kicked off of ‘Hells Kitchen’. They told him he was being flown back to Dubai, but whisked him straight in here. I talk to him through the bars sometimes late at night. We have formed an escape committee. So what’s it like in here I hear you ask. Well apart from being here against my will, it’s not all bad I suppose. We are free to roam the building and the grounds during the day, but it’s lockdown at night. This is when me and Jim take our trips back to the seventies, we both like it back there. The Matron is called Devina. She is four foot ten, has a haircut that looks like someone has put a bowl on her head and cut round it, a small moustache, and occasionally wears a monical. I personally think this is just for show, but I wouldn’t swear by it. She struts around in her air wear boots, followed closely by the nurses. Now these aren’t the female, slightly sexy type, no these are big buggers. Poor old Jim had to go for a counselling session today in the ‘Politically uncorrect correction facility’. He says he is holding out though, and good on him. Jim and myself wander around the place, trying to make as many politically uncorrect comments as we can get away with.
I don’t know how long they are expecting to keep me in here, but me and Jim are planning to go over the wall as soon as we can. After having a ’little chat’ with Davina, I am apparently in here because they say I am suffering from delusions of grandeur. I have told them to stop being ridiculous, and to only speak to me, when they are spoken to. Don’t they know I am a Genius for Christ’s sake? Anyway, better go, because I can hear the guards coming round on their patrol. Thankfully I have made a pretend me from pillows, a grapefruit and a baseball cap, which I have laid in my bed so it looks like I am there……. you see, genius!
Speak to you all soon. I will try and get some sleep sandwiched between Jim Davidson, and Cleopatra…….it’s a funny old world!
Cheers.
P.S. If any of you feel like starting a ’Free the Yarmouth two’ campaign, please feel free.
P.P.S. For all of you out there with my number, please only phone me if it is an absolute emergency. Even the Polish are starting get wind of my Britney Spears rues.