Max is out of the closet.

Purely in a literal sense. His sexuality is not a matter I wish to consider. Anyhow, I've taken to asking him about his week. He keeps mumbling and shaking, huddling himself into a little ball in the corner. I gather that his time away on other blogs did not go well, and I blame Ben.
 "Why were you late back then?"
He looked at me, big puppydog eyes wide and big like the eyes of a puppydog:
 "Tried to leave. Had to run away, so I went to sea..."
He started to sob again.
 "What?... What happened?"
 "Came ashore, we all went to the pub. Drank a little to much, and passed out. I got press-ganged!"
 "What? Onto another ship?"
 "No!" He went on, "Into the fruit and veg trade!"
Max talked long into the night, his story punctuated only by sobs and explosive vomiting. I gathered, at last, that he had awoken to find himself chained to a stall in the East End of London. There, he was forced to fake an accent, and sell fruit and veg in the persona of a lovable cockney rogue. Understandably, the experience had been rather traumatic on poor Max.
 However, it isn't all bad. His experience seems to have gained him a new job, cameoing on Eastenders. I think he's going to play a carrot.

I see...

I remember when I first noticed something had changed outside my house. I opened the curtains, as I often do of a morning, expecting to see my garden. Instead, I saw the sea. This, as you can imagine, was rather disconcerting. The sea, in the right environment, is a lovely thing to behold. A nice picture, for instance, is a beautiful place to see the sea lapping dramatically, or something. Or films. It can be very useful in films. However, outside one's window - when one should be in the city, far removed from anything as close to nature as water - is not the place for nautical nonsense.
 From then on, I actually adapted pretty well. The TV still worked, and survival programmes taught me exactly how to forage for food, and find clean drinking water. In fact, things were going swimmingly (Tee hee), until last Thursday, when a pirate ship loomed into view. It followed me until the Saturday, at which point it began to open fire with all it's cannons. Even the ones on the other side of the boat. I was able to fight them off, but they managed to steal my patio, along with all my patio furniture.

Let this be a warning to you - don't cross Neptune.
Or Aquaman.