I have become a cave dweller. The fluid dripping on my head was rich in minerals and turned my face into a rock. I have locked myself in wookey hole cave and think I am a witch. There is a skeleton of some ancient caveman type resting up against my left cheek, and some slugs have made a home of my folded craggy love handles.
Alas, this is just a flight of fancy. I am standing outside the flat which rests blithely on top of my flat in the block of flats which my flat is in. The entrance to the flat is blocked off to the public by a strip of tape which says on it "Police line - DO NOT CROSS". There has been a murder in the flat. For some reason the police have done a terrible job cleaning up and there is blood and gore thrashed all over the inside of the flat. I do some quick thinking and conclude that perhaps the fluid dripping onto my prone face and neck was actually blood, as I first thought. You might think - Aha but what of the red colour of blood that blood normally has, that would be all over your face. The problem is I try to avoid looking in mirrors and so have no idea at any time what my face may or may not look like. I suddenly panic. I am definately panicking. What if the rozzers come out of the flat, see me with blood all over my face, put 2 + 2 togther and think that I am in some way responsible for not sending a tax form back to the home office which I meant to do a while ago. I take a half eaten baked potato from my shopping bag and place it on the ground in front of the flat to slow down any pursuing officers. I slowly back towards the lift. I am sweating. I get into the lift. I emerge from the lift. I am in my flat. I sit on my sofa.
The baked potato is still there.
It is the only thing protecting me from the police. I imagine the looks on their faces when they see it. "What is this, officer Olanrewaju?" they will say. Will they send it to the lab for DNA tests? I am anxious. I think about how good baked potatos taste.
Five minutes later I have eaten the potato. I am done for.