Yes.

I thought you said... no. Nothing.

Sorry, I meant to type diabolical

'Dude, don't tell me you don't know about August 21. That's, what can I tell you, it's the day we all gather to eat these shitty herrings which smell like shit. And then afterwards we all release an album.'

'Release...?'

'An album, yeah.'

itunes.apple.com/album/id1829...

After all, 'red herring' tends to mean a misleading clue, a false friend, doesn't it. You've never heard a detective say 'aha! This looks like a normal-coloured herring.' Still, to make sure, you call Helga, your friend in Gothenburg. At the word 'surströmming' she becomes effusive.

Sure Strumming. It sounds...
...
...yes! You dash up to the kitchen and check the flags backwards again. Surströmming. Things are coming together. What does it mean, this strange word? You pay the £7.99 to ask Google. It starts talking about herrings in Sweden. You're disappointed.

As you're putting your leotard on for the day ahead, the first thing you see on the bedroom floor is your receipt from the music place. THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AT SURE STRUMMING, it says. Something jars. It's like you've got a fly up your nose. You're sure the music place wasn't called that.

But - again - there's always music to distract you.

Maybe standing on your head will help. Maybe reading them backwards will help. Maybe it's more a case of pounding your chest, having a good old cry, and then perhaps a nice bowl of pasta.

How these people are getting in your house, and what they mean by all this, remains a serious concern.

This time they're... it can't be, can it? Upside down!? And also there's something off with the colours. They're not quite in black-and-white but they don't really show up either.

You rub your face, your hair, your stomach; you leave your downstairs friends alone for now.

'My word,' you mutter.

Up the stairs you go, rather than down, because for some reason you had your entire house reconfigured this week, spending £350,000 for the builders' 24-hour service. It's lucky you inherited that mystery fortune in February this year.

You stop.

Not again. Not more flags.

The Company will let you talk amongst yourselves for a little bit. Please spread the word to any other former employees.

What is there to be done? You put your favourite band on and get to work.

Why would anyone do this, and what are they trying to communicate, you ask yourself. You can't help feeling that prickle of fear and intrigue down your spine and in your downstairs friends. It's a feeling you thought you'd forgotten.

'This is too much for me,' you murmur.

You stumble downstairs, wearing absolutely nothing but the wizard's hat you've had to keep on for the last 10 days after losing a bet with Steve.

'Holy shite!' you blurt out, rather oddly. But with good reason. Someone has painted a load of flags on your kitchen wall. W the actual F?

BOOOOOOOOOO

Correct, you did. Congratulations.

So that was the original planned visit. It was FOR my 40th birthday, not AT the time. So actually not 'alarmingly accurate'. But.