The lurgey feverishly running circuits around my bodily systems is making run-of-the mill life seem a little unreal.

I feel as if I'm permanently in that state of lightest slumber that comes just before wakefulness.

It's the likeliest reason why I found a tax story from today's Guardian to be near-fantastical and even a touch creepy.

It concerns a DVD, the existence of which may or may not be mere fancy. Its reported aim is to lure high-earning City workers to a far-off land... well, Switzerland.

In my somnambulistic-like state, this tale has the unsettling quality of an urban myth in the sinister fashion of Japan's Ring horror flicks (unsuspecting people watch a chilling video and are then told by a mysterious phone caller that they will die in seven days' time) or late novelist David Foster Wallace's magnus opus, Infinite Jest (unsuspecting people become hopelessly addicted to a weird movie, which they watch over and over again until they die).

Brrrrrrrrrr!

This is the wrong day to be alone in the Taxation office. I'm not going to be opening any DVD-shaped packages.

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