26th December 2003

Boxing Day could not be more aptly named. I don't know how the rest of you are feeling. But I'm weary, tired and shocked out of my senses. I am receiving unanticipated and striking blows from all directions in a bout between me and life. And the Referee doesn't want it to stop. As my head reels, I begin to lose the calm and composure my fans outside the ring loved me for. They are still cheering me, but are oblivious to my inner state. They trust my capabilities too much to accept that I can ever collapse. Maybe they can see me squint as the lights get brighter, and all else becomes a confusing blur. But after all, this fight has been the longest one ever staged. No way is it going to stop now. Nope. Cannot be. The Referee won't let it, the fans won't accept it, and my managers and the organisers have too large a stake in it for it to stop. I don't have the heart nor the energy nor the will to tell them about the intensity of the blows. Divine drama or mere entertainment...who the hell will ever know?

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