Late Night Fright

As I lay there thinking about how to get to sleep the thought of sheep failed to work its magic. I had been woken so many times during the previous night – perhaps I should count them instead, but no! Thinking of waking is wakening.

I decided instead to try to remember the classics of English literature that had to be learnt by heart when I was a nipper. And then it came to me,
“'Fear not, till Birnam wood Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane.”
For ages people have wondered about hidden meanings in Shakespeare, and only I realised that Macbeth was being chased by copse.

Mustn’t dwell on it, move on. But wait! If Mr. Potato Head was suspected of a crime would they send for the Peelers?

And what if the spiders were found guilty of killing flies, would the bluebottles go after them? The sheep were loitering in the meadows, the cows had broken into the cornfields, and the boys in blue were all asleep. The refuse truck was being used as a getaway vehicle and the filth was following it! Nee Nah Nee Nah.

A ten shilling note for the first person to commit the crime of thieving the plumbing, or to put it another way, Old Bill for taking the copper!

This is driving me crackers! Why does my head ache so much? Sleep, please, sleep! I can’t think of sheep now because the pigs will get them. Aaagh!!

But I’ve got to sleep now – work tomorrow.
I could resign. Hand in my notice. Even claim against them, because it’s stopping me sleeping, working at Bobby’s Cheese Shop.