Alfie

And either way, I'm pretty sure none of this is going to matter to me so much after that.

Whatever it is that's happening to me now, it's important that people know.

Not because I'm important.

I am really, really not.

But this is.

So yeah.

If you could just make sure my mum and my sisters don't hear this tape, that'd be great.

Anonymise me or whatever.

Call me, I don't know, Ben or something.

And Casper can be Bill.

Wait, no.

There's already a vampire called Bill, isn't there?

Wasn't he a confederate or something?

Oh, I'm really waffling, aren't I?

Mum always says I worry too much about whether people like me.

She'd say, like, Christ, Alfie, you're picking up your antidepressants, not doing an improv bit.

And I'd be like, why not both?

Well, poor Darla the pharmacist won't have to deal with my terrible customer service stand-up routines anymore, so there is good to come out of this situation after all.

I think I got this dictaphone to do poetry.

God, I will spare you my slam poetry phase, nobody needs that in their life.