If you want to get ahead, get a Cyberhead

If you want to get ahead, get a Cyberhead

Warren came round this morning holding a huge package.

I've recently had one of those 'significant' birthdays and I knew he was planning to present me with something special, as he'd already had a word with Lisa and mysteriously asked me how large my head was.

To be honest, I'm never exactly sure about personal details like this. When asked my age in a hurry, I turn to Lisa and ask her, to gain myself valuable thinking time. Though 50 is quite an easy one to remember, as well as being one of my favourite notes when playing 'Monopoly' for some strange reason.

To give Warren an idea of my cranial capacity, I popped upstairs and returned with my top hat, which we picked up a few years ago at the Sherlock Holmes museum in Baker Street, London. Apparently, I'm medium-to-large which sounds about right. Slightly big-headed but it rarely becomes a problem.
Lisa knew what he was planning, although there was a slight setback when the initial order arrived in a slightly damaged state. There was no problem with getting a replacement, only it did mean a six-week delay.

But today was the great unveiling and I think it's fair to say that I was surprised and delighted. Not to say slightly touched, but Warren and Lisa would say that is my normal state of mind at the best of times.

So I am now the proud owner of a Cyberman head, based on the version used in 'The Invasion' which, like me, also hails from 1968.

We did a quick photoshoot outside the shed as it was a sunny day. Though we would like to reassure readers that there is not a mysterious device in the shed made from plastic cups and string, issuing orders in an impenetrable voice.

And neither am I in the process of spraying a form-fitting wetsuit with silver paint, which will be a great relief to everyone, I suspect.

I'd like to publically thank Warren for his generosity and also Lisa for her part in keeping the secret.

The head is now sitting on a tall bookcase next to the French doors and I think we'll nod at him every time we go out into the garden.

Now all we have to do is think of a name for him...

(Written by Andrew Trowbridge)