"One a' those days, huh. Well, a wiser fella than m'self once said, sometimes you eat the bar and sometimes the bar, well, he eats you."

A former consumer of Victoria's mental health system chimes in with his two cents...

Harry, fancy a pint? I want to talk kilts and declared marriages. I saw them on the telly, you see.

Nearly seven years ago now my brain broke, and the chemicals brought me, more or less, back. I have the men in white coats and their extremely low dosages of Haloperidol to thank for that. Incidentally H is one of the drugs mentioned when they were treating some fellow in an episode of the X Files. I got to yell out "product placement!" but nobody listened.

What really baked my potato was idly searching the web one evening and finding someone had written out their 'florid' delusional reality from their illness -- and it it was almost a perfect match with mine. They were from the US I think. Fancy that, just like having the same dream as someone, only you're awake.

To sum up, I'll fence-sit on the medication debate, with the caveat that you may not have a say in it if you end up at Albert Rd or equivalent. I think this should be part of your equation that currently returns the value 0 for the variable "pills". And I hope all the athletes who sleep in the former Royal Park Psychiatric Hospital, if the village gets buit there, have those really really nasty night terrors, with that little fuckin' goblin crouched on their chests.

`Night!