23rd February 2012
I am the world’s most notorious thief, worth 120 million pounds. I have a razor sharp white-blonde bob and a thick black mono-brow like a stripe across my face. I decide to rent a flat above a cinema so that I can make lots of noise without having to worry about neighbours complaining. When I arrive with my bags I realise the flat is haunted by the ghosts of little Cossack boys who used to be imprisoned there. I go in anyway and start to unpack. There is a knock at the door. It is Rhianna who tells me she wants to come and sleep at my flat. I lend her a thermal vest top and take her to a dormitory of single beds where the boys used to live, and watch her as she falls asleep peacefully. I suddenly think of Mishima committing hara-kiri. I realise, in a moment of clarity, that nobody in the world has ever juxtaposed Rhianna and Mishima’s suicide together in their brain at the same time. I am excited, almost overwhelmed by this knowledge.