In Silverton, where tigers wear rocket skates and pigs can fly, I fly as well. On Tuesday, I flew into a lamp post.

I would like it understood that I am fine. Completely fine. Fine in every possible way, apart from my left arm, which now does this whenever I lift it above my screen. Say it with me. Do not enjoy it too much.

Wobble, wobble, wobble.

The lamp post is also fine. I went back and checked, at night, when nobody was about.

Ava: “Walbot. Your arm is doing the thing again.”

It is not doing a thing.

Ava: “It is WOBBLING.”

It is gesturing.

At Budget Bend there is a repair kit. Three coins. A small box with a spring in it and a picture of a robot on the front looking extremely pleased with himself.

On Spend Street there is a brand-new arm cover. Nine coins. I want to be honest with you about this cover. It is shiny. It is so shiny that people have walked into things looking at it, which is exactly how I found it.

Ava: “It is SO shiny.”
Louis: “Does the shiny one stop the wobble?”

It covers the wobble.

Louis: “So the wobble is still in there.”

The wobble is still in there. Doing this. Underneath. Where nobody can see it. Go on, then.

Wobble, wobble, wobble.

Please do not look at me like that. I have ten coins on my band, which means I can have either one. That is the entire problem, and I find it undignified.

My fan has gone fast. That is the bit that goes first on me. Ava's ears go hot and my fan goes fast, and I would rather have the ears, frankly.

Zion: “That cover is the fast one. It has got a stripe.”

It has got a stripe. I had not seen the stripe. I wish very much that I had not seen the stripe.

Ten coins. Three for a box with a spring in it. Nine for the shiny. One wobble, currently free of charge and going absolutely nowhere.

I know what I am going to do. I am simply not saying it out loud in front of a stripe like that.

Tap. Tap. Pause.