A Day In The Life: Cronenberg Style

I don't so much wake up as hatch from the fetus cradle that is suspended over our bed. The amniotic fluid splashes over my partner causing her to squeal and squirm, sometimes the cradle ruptures too far and I have to change the sheets, but on this occasion I manage to just get it all over her hair and face.

As she goes upstairs and prepares some toast for me I swallow the mouse and check my e-mails, using my stomach muscles and bile as a conductive interface manipulator. Spam is easier to deal with when each mail requires an identifier tooth receipt be sent by the sender. I have automatic filtering bioware that checks the teeth against dental records and rejects mails sent without tooth identifiers.

Usually my mornings consist of checking script details and set reports. Either way I tend to force myself to vomit onto the clipboards my assistants hold before me, allowing them to take this as a good sign or a bad. I trust the people I work with to make the right decisions.

Lunch is a greek salad and a glass of vitreous humur extracted from the eyeballs of Ukranian sheep, this is both good for my colon and the fortunes of the Ukranian Wool Exchange who spend less time catching the blind sheep and turning them into sweaters.

My afternoon consists of vetting actresses based on my "Debbie Harry androgeny" scale of whether or not I would want to screw them and enjoy a beer with them, and watching the rushes from the day's filming. We have a wonderful set designer on the current production, I found him living inside his very own putrid meat cathedral in the middle east rolling around in mounds of dead flies. I had to win a bidding war against Robert Englund's interior decorator and Stephen King's agent to sign him up but after some language coaching and basic toilet training he seems to be doing a fantastic job.

I've already heard industry insiders saying that my retelling of Bambi, tentatively titled "Veal Before The One You Serve" could well be up for a Fangoria "Best Picture" award.

My evenings are usually a mix of picking the marrow out of shattered vertebre and watching CSI for ideas before my partner reseals me inside my womb for the night and tops up the fluid levels.