Well, went down to Melbourne today for my first day at school. Peter had graciously enrolled for me, so I travelled through offices to try to find my student number. The first person-behind-the-big-and-important-desk (PBBID) told me I was in the wrong building. So I walked across campus to “The Hub” which was a bee hive of large desks and endless queues. I asked the second PBBID about the account that I was meant to acquire, so the Fellowship could pay for the course, and she asked me for my account number. I told her I didn’t have one yet, so she took my drivers licence and typed into her computer my name, date of birth and address. She then looked at me and said,

You are not on our records. You do not exist.

Well, whaddayaknow. I thought I had been around for thirty odd years. I had been duped, and have successfully duped everyone else. I’m not actually here.

So now’s the time to set the history books straight. That ghost-in-the-machine you always hear about. That’s me. If you’ve ever met me, I suggest you talk to someone about getting tested for psychoses. If you’ve only known me through the Internet, beware: we are not real.

I have been told that I’d get soemthing in the post to confirm my enrolment, but since I’m not here, I can’t really say where that letter is going. If you find it, can you please contact my partner and tell her that the man of her dreams (literally) has mail.