It's a conspiracy

The night before last, I stayed at work quite late. Consequently, I was only starting to drop off at around four in the morning, when the room filled with strange, blue-white light. It's probably a measure of my tiredness that my first thoughts were not "Ahhh!! Aliens!! Not the probing! Why always the probing?! Nooo!" and were more like "Blue-white... text message? No. Outside? No. Well, if you eliminate the probable, whatever left, no matter how improbably, must be the cause... Wohoo! I have night-vision!" I looked up to test my new skills, and noticed that in the corner, the lamp on my bike and spontaneously turned itself on. A little spooked (and very disappointed), I turned it off, and went back to bed.

Seemingly seconds later, at 9am, horrible chirpy music fills the room. It's my phone, it's a phonecall. It stops ringing as soon as I pick it up. Evil. I don't know the number. Bastard. Now, you're probably not aware, but over here you can look peoples phone numbers up to find their address. So Timo Tuikka, of Vantaa, may a mangy dog hump your leg for your miss-dialing.

It seemed innocuous enough. I worked, I went in to town and bought the special edition How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb, had mexican with Joonas, and then went to Molly Malones for a while (which is twinned with the Brazen Head back home). I cycled back, and I would like to categorically state that it was stupifying tiredness, and not any other mitigating factors, including talking on the phone at the time, that caused me to mistake a concrete kerb for some low ice. It's not such a big mistake, in the dark, in a park I don't ususally cycle through, but it was significant enough to precipitate my body leaving the bike in favour of the asphalt. The phone conversation stoped for a few seconds, an old couple strolling waited to see if they should laugh heartily or call an ambulance, and something moaned a little. I think it was me. No real damage done, except to my one and only jacket, which now has a rip in the elbow.

Not so innocuous now... Timo Tuikka is out to get me, and has plotted so elaborately, that no-one could implicate him in my downfall. One quick poke at the electronics in my lamp, and one subtle phonecall, and let sleep deprevation take its toll...

So it seems I have a rival for Overlord of Helsinki... watch this space.