Savage shootout sparks confidence crisis and mortgage meddling

Around 5am on Thursday morning, I awoke in agony, courtesy of my daughter outrageously and aggressively poking her right index finger into my left ear.

There must be about a million much more respectful and peaceful ways of requesting your father wakes up, but Grace decided a forceful plough into my auditory canal was the best option.

My first Thursday thoughts were a) I must scream in the hope the perpetrator shows mercy; b) Oh my god, the perpetrator is a blood relative; c) Have I spawned the devil child? d) Do I need emergency surgery? e) Cripes, I wish I hadn't selected Sea Fury as my Wednesday-night tipple; f) I hope we've got some Nurofen in the house; g) I wonder how the Indonesian Masters is going? h) What the hell is the meaning of life?