Power out - AKA: Tim by torchlight

There I was Thursday night, sitting at my computer having just revealed my latest efforts in the media whoring, um, whorefest, occasionally doing a bit of work, sending a few emails, and iTuning up some new music when - ZZZZT! - went the lights, swiftly followed by everything else.

Everything went dark, and I did what any other super-awesome hero of this age would do. I sat there in the dark, blinking, and wondering if I should phone my mum.

After about 30 seconds I decided that I should probably do something, although I wasn't entirely sure exactly what. Eventually I settled on heading upstairs in a spacker-esque Frankenstein-stylee with my hands held out in front in order to retrieve my Star Trek-branded maglite torch. And it was as I walked into my bedroom that I looked out the window and noticed that *everything* was dark. One thousand people in the Sunbury and Shepperton area plunged into utter darkness, I would later discover while on the phone to the delightful Sue from Southern Electricity, after a major outage.

There's something about complete darkness that gives you the sense that the apocalypse has finally descended upon us. I left my house and walked out into the street, standing in the middle of the road and spinning around slowly like they do in movies - like Marty at the end of Back to the Future Part II. And that's when the irrational thoughts started entering my mind. Would the base instincts of all those torch-less troglodytes kick in and I'd become the target of attacks intended to wrestle my light-source away from me? After all, I was clearly the most technologically-advanced individual in the area. How long before Laura Ashley, Halfords, and Blockbuster Video became the focus of marauding Sheppertonians organised into feral packs of crazed looters? And what about the undead? Would they rise?

Then I noticed another light source. It was the elderly couple across the road. Surely they'd have some good advice?

"Ooo, we should have a party," said the lady. We eventually decided that it was more a good excuse to have an early night, so we all retired to our homes, locked and barricaded the doors, and retired to bed.

-----

Media whore update! I'm like some human-whore-magnet now! Celebs are *literally* throwing themselves at me! And by throwing themselves at me I actually mean my boss told me that there was a world-famous celebrity sitting outside the pub just around the corner from the office, and I made an excuse to go and have a look by taking the letters out of our post tray and walking them round to the postbox.

And, yes, my boss was quite right. There, sitting in the sun, resplendent in a purple suit, and blinged to the max, was the Prince of Darkness himself - Ozzy Osbourne.

I resisted the temptation to run upto him and say "Dude! I *love* Bat out of Hell!"