We've all made mistakes. David's was punching the shed window in while the parish priest was round for tea. Cue blood, tears and poisonous rumours circulating the congregation. In fairness, the shed had it coming; it was sheltering the two harridan sisters who had dragged David around the garden by his ankles for the best part of an hour.

Acquaintances agree that David is not the same boy anymore. Dreams of becoming a train driver receded faster than his beautiful blonde hair, and there has been little call for a goalkeeper who can't dive to his left. Such are the consequences of upsetting the First Estate.

Still, he continues to steadily lampoon the great and good of pop culture with the casual insouciance of a young Alan Alda; a worthwhile pursuit as he settles into his new life in Toronto, Canada. His adventures in joblessness are chronicled at A Magpie Amongst The Beavers, and he's on Twitter, too: @davidjameswelsh

The soundtrack to David's drawn-out days currently includes Metronomy, Memory Tapes, Oh Minnows, She & Him, M83 and Stephen Malkmus.