Listening to the BBC and Sky, and reading The Guardian, all on the subject of whether the UK establishment knew about CIA torture or not, the realisation dawned on me that I had imagined my entire life story and in fact I had never actually existed. For a little while it was like being in a particularly scary Japanese film.
Then fortunately, I started to look through the comments threads and discovered that even though every journalist in the mainstream media does not know that I blew the whistle on all this a decade ago, the general public do apparently know of me and know a very great deal more than the so-called journalists. So it seems I do exist after all.
That is really quite a relief, because I was about to cancel my walk to Sandy Bell’s on the grounds that if I was merely a metaphysical concept, I probably would not be able to drink anyway.