"WITH FRIENDS LIKE YOU, WHO NEEDS FRIENDS?" Well I was having a frankly shitty day until I found this on Doc's blog: Poor Jimmy Corrigan. We found him lost and wandering the street outside our house, his trademark look of worry plastered across his round face. He seemed to be suffering from some kind of amnesia as he was unable to recollect how he had come to find himself in England, let alone on the streets of Leeds. We asked him if he'd like to come in for a chilled drink or perhaps even an alcoholic beverage but he eyed the messy beer can strewn innards of our house through the open door with palpable distaste and mistrust. He turned and quietly stared off into the distance, his mind seeming to wander, perhaps rifling through the dusty pages of his cognitive scrapbook of past recollections. Back to some memory of his mother or father. "Sorry," he muttered, seeming suddenly to snap out of his daze, "I really must be going now, sorry!" And with that Jimmy left. Doc: I owe you a drink for that one, mate. Mike is blogging to: nothing