That rather vivid image comes to you courtesy of one Jay Hollis. Yes, this is the same Jay who on Tuesday night went to great lengths to get us outrageously drunk. Personally, I think he’s just looking for attention; doing whatever it takes to guarantee him more space in the blog. And yes, I realise the very act of writing about it is giving in to that, but really the story is too good to pass up.

 

There are no pictures with this particular post, by the way. And by the time you get to the end - assuming you make it that far - you’ll understand why.

 

It all started when Jay - very kindly, it must be said - offered to drive Peter and I to the airport yesterday for our flight to Alaska. Peter was reviewing the itinerary and happened to mention that early next week we would be driving from Anchorage to Fairbanks, some hundreds of miles further north.

 

Jokingly, we started to speculate about the best course of action to take, should - heaven forbid - we experience car trouble halfway across the vast tundra. The likely absence of nearby cell towers would mean that Peter’s BlackBerry (on which I believe he’s come to build far too great a dependence) would be next to useless; “Let’s see what Wiki has to say about car trouble in a snowbound wilderness... Hmmm...”

 

Anyway, it was about this time that Jay offered up frankly horrifying piece of advice: “What you need to do is gut Damian from crotch to gullet, rip out his innards and climb inside to keep warm.”

 

Well, we laughed. Boy did we laugh. Then Peter looked over his shoulder at me in that funny, pensive way he does sometimes and suddenly, only he and Jay were laughing.

 

Since yesterday I’ve been sleeping with a knife under my pillow. Come for me if you will, Mulvey, but don’t expect it to be easy.