Although your kitchen may appear safe at

Although your kitchen may appear safe at first, there is an evil lurking, an abomination of untold proportions, if the dishes are left in the sink long enough then you

will one day arrive home to find an unwelcome guest in the form of a Mould-Man. These forms of life are, quite frankly, dicks, and while they will never harm you, they will

moulder in your walls and lungs until all your edifices collapse. One morning my clock-radio woke me with Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight" but I already knew that Joe Mould-Man

was a dank dame. The mould filled all of my edifices to the point where I couldn't

open them to the public. There was the usual enquiry and the wobbly finger of blame was pointed at the dank dame but she'd gone to ground. I scrubbed my mouldy edifices with bleach

presentable in my lavish patchwork ragsuite. I played nightmare rag as the guests entered, & belted out in a ragged voice my riches to rags ballad as the ivories tickled my belly.

But the raging ragtag bunch of ragamuffins interrupted my ballad, their ragged voices filled the room, asking for ragout to fill their bellies. I raged at them, and

they accused me of being "on the rag". So I sang "Old Rag Mountain" to them at the top of my lungs until they all scuttled away like the scallywags they were. No ragout for them!

So that just left me and the ragout and neither of us happy at that outcome. Somehow for completely unrelated reasons their secret mutual respect for each other would shine bright.