Walking past Mekon's room this morning, I heard some very strange noises - grunts and heavy breathing. Cautiously, I opened the door, only to be met with a most alarming sight.

He was tidying....an event so surprising that I had to sit down on the bed to recover. (A decision I instantly regretted, as the duvet was peppered with mouldy sandwiches, and socks that could have been used in chemical warfare.)

Even stranger, he had put clean clothes in his wardrobe instead of arranging them artistically on the floor/dog/wastepaper bin.

Later, I related this H who said that he'd caught Mekon in front of the mirror practising speech. 'He's making a speech?' I asked. 'On what?'

'No, not making a speech. Just speech. Clear, coherent words. Speech!'

'What on earth was he saying?'

'Well firstly there was hi, I'm Mike. Then there was hello my name's Michael.

Mike? Michael? That was almost as surprising as the bedroom tidying. (Sometimes, I forget that 'Mekon' is just a nickname that stuck. Strictly between us, he was the ugliest baby ever....even his besotted grannies agreed he looked like an alien!)

This evening I wandered into Mekon's bedroom without knocking, and was shocked to find him doing something even more disturbing. (No, not that!)

He was combing his hair!!!