I ate a boulder. Yes, I ate an actual boulder. You’re thinking: how? Did he break the boulder down into little rock chips and eat those one after the other? And in that case, how would he survive the experience long enough to finish eating a whole boulder, which would stick in his throat and choke him to death or at least cause him unendurable stomach agony? To all the questions I respond simply, I ate a boulder. I ate a boulder, because I am an unnamed, unclassified invention in words, and if I want to eat a boulder I will eat a fucking boulder, without your niggling attention to the whys and what-fors. Know what I did next? I ate a cathedral. Then I had Japan, Laos and Paraguay for pudding! How d’you like that, you little monkey, does that meet your approval?