Urgh...
 With a supreme amount of effort, I managed to raise my head. Slowly, I forced the world around me into focus. Had to assess my surroundings. Right, what do I know?
 Hangover. That tells me I'm hungover, so I was drunk. Well, no surprise there. I was in a suit, somewhat dishevelled. What did that mean? Wedding? Funeral? Court Case? Ah, that was it... I'd been in court... my case against Dr. Moriarty had failed again, no surprise there either. He's far too cunning, and deserves a better advisory than me... So, that was why I was drunk and suited, OK. But where was I? The room around me, that looked familiar... But not home-familiar, no... different. Somewhere I'd seen, on... T.V.
 Ah, got it. It's the oval office. Impressive, I'm not even on the same continent anymore. And I must have told some pretty impressive lies to get in here... On the other hand, maybe they'd just thought Bush was back...
 Getting to my feet, I staggered to the window and poked at it pathetically. So... It was sturdier than I'd imagined. It was far too cunning, and deserves a better advisory than me... Must be some way out...
 In the corner of the cornerless room, a chair was on fire. Panicking, I opened the door and walked out. Well, that dealt with two problems. A small group of people were gathered nearby, and turned to look at me with shock. I looked back with shock too... How did they fit a car in here? Wait, not just any car... Kennedy's car, the one he was shot in! I turned, and ran into the imposing, unmoving mass of Al Capone. It was then it hit me: I wasn't in America, I was in an American-themed museum! At the same time, an elderly security guard also hit me. As I lost consciousness, I was aware of being dragged towards a fire exit...

With a supreme amount of effort, I managed to raise my head. Slowly, I forced the world around me into focus. Had to assess my surroundings. Right, what do I know?
Hangover. That tells me I'm hungover, so I was drunk. Well, no surprise there. I was in a suit, somewhat dishevelled. What did that mean? Wedding? Funeral? Court Case? Ah, that was it... I'd been in court... my case against Dr. Moriarty had failed again, no surprise there either. He's far too cunning, and deserves a better advisory than me... So, that was why I was drunk and suited, OK. But where was I? Ah, the alleyway around me was familiar. Very familiar in fact. At last my long search was over: I was home!

My home is infested with religious figures...

"Ah, go on, have some more wine!"
 Smiling, I shook my head and turned towards the bearded man lying on my sofa. His hand resting gently on a dog, his feet on a turtle, he looked every bit the part of an old-testament Dr. Dolittle. But he was not Dolittle, he was Noah, and he was beginning to outstay his welcome.
 "Not even a little? It's good," He continued, "I made it myself, you know..."
 "Yes." I nodded, "But I remember what happened the last time you got drunk old fellow. I disapprove of my house-guests providing anything that can be used to rationalise slavery. Besides, you've got to keep a clear head - you promised you'd get that Ark off of my lawn tomorrow. My parents are coming, remember?
 And they bloody hate boats."
There was no response, but after a moment, I detected the faint noise of gentle snoring. Sighing, I turned off the lights and headed for bed. My parents weren't coming tomorrow, but I didn't feel bad about lying. After all, God wasn't flooding the earth again either, so Noah was acting under false pretenses as well. To be honest, I think he's just lonely these days, and I understand that. But you can't just force your way into some-one's house, call them evil, fill it with animals, and turn the tool-shed into a surprisingly large boat. No sir.
 Still, it must be difficult being an antediluvian Patriarch.