Don't ask where the love has gone. It was

Don't ask where the love has gone. It was a citadel of my imagination that collapsed. Pour me a drink & let us drink to its ruins.Tell the story on my behalf as long as the tears

run down face and clog up my keyboard. It all happened when the woman we'll call Frau X found a good looking guy on match.com. She ran the police checks & the 8 page report reveale

d a long history of light larceny. No matter, this "Frau X" had stolen office supplies everywhere she worked. She just hadn't been caught. She set the meeting place for the date at

the remains of the Berlin wall. An incongruous choice for a clandestine meeting point, but I supposed that no-one would think to look for Frau X: "the stealer of stationary" there.

"What is that?" She demanded in her thick German accent. "Not more of your hippie propaganda?" I gave her a dirty look. Yoh don't call David Bowie's music "hippie propaganda"

Out of instict, I attacked the German lady and tackled her to the ground. She began to push me off, and I fell head first onto the floor. She then socked me right into the stomach.

"I will call the thought police right now", she said as she dialed 999. I knew I was in trouble and had to morth into a mouse asap. Luckily, by the time the thought police arrived,

I had fully transformed into a mouse and was incapable of any thought beyond sex and cheese. The thought police thus had very little to go on, and left for lunch an hour later.

I on the other hand ate a hole in the wall of their office and had babies with a cute escape white mouse from the laboratory. The mutant havoc they wrecked is another story.