Hobgoblins

Why is it that the thought demons chose to plague your mind in the middle of the night when you should be sound asleep, completely oblivious to the going ons of the rest of the world, snoring blissfully and dreaming of soft cuddly fluffy things whilst you are snuggled up next to the one you love? Cowards. They are cowards, I say. To top it all off, not only am I up at this godforsaken hour pondering all matter of silly things, worrying over equations and numbers, and standards and finances. But, my skin is itching something fierce and the dust fairies have decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to valiantly attack my nose, making it stuffy, and tickly and unpleasant. Blarghy. Need cream, Kleenexes and something potent enough to knock me out. Oh Bullocks. Now me toes and thighs are itching too. Fneh!