Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

I've recently purchased a device that lets me hear peoples' internal monologues. I bought it online. It was pretty cheap (£11.99 + p&p). I didn't really expect it to work, to be honest. I thought it might be like those x-ray specs you see advertised in the back of old comics. But it works like a charm.

I tested on myself first: putting the earpiece in and pointing the amplifying sensor at my own brain. "This is never going to work," I thought and heard simultaneously. "Wait a minute. It does actually seem to be working".

"This is incredible," I said to myself, via the brain, through the sensor and into my ears. "I'm entirely aware of everything I'm thinking. Does my internal voice really sound like that?"

I was eager to test it on a stranger. I dismissed my initial concerns about invading peoples' privacy by reasoning that if I were telepathic, I'd be doing it all the time anyway.

I looked out of the window, and saw the postman collecting post from a postbox, putting it into a postbag and loading it into his postman's postvan. I pointed the sensor at him.

"...I wonder how many of these envelopes I could eat before I died. I reckon one hundred and fifty. The Jiffy bags might prove tricky. Unless I blended them up into a mail smoothie..."

I grew weary of his internal monologue, and did a quick survey of the street. Firstly, a young boy riding his bike:

"...if Superman had a bike it could fly and he'd have special wheels and could ride it in space and Batman would be jealous..."

Then I moved the sensor along to an elderly woman:

"...that boy might stab me. But I'm ready for him! I can do Karate. I learned it during the Blitz. People used to teach Martial Arts in exchange for cheese and eggs. Because of the rationing..."

Then to a preppy-looking student:

"...could always buy a strap-on, I suppose..."

Then to a dog:

"...woof. Woof. Woof..."

Then to another dog:

"...I'm not sure about that dude. All he seems to do is 'woof'! Doesn't he ever strive for something more?..."

It was an exhausting experience. I thought I needed a sit down. I pointed the sensor at my head again, just to confirm. "I need a sit down," I mused. We're in agreement, then.

The next day, I took it on the bus. The sheer range of the thoughts shocked me. Such anger, such perversion. But I was on a bus after all.

Over half the people on the bus consciously expressed a dislike for my choice of outfit. It has made me rethink my wardrobe.

It was a depressing day at work. By covertly reading the thoughts of my colleagues, I caught a glimpse of the way things really are.

My boss, who I always thought of as rather pleasant: "I could kill a goat and drink its blood. Yes, that's right. All the blood. It will cleanse me. It will cleanse my soul for the arrival of the Dark Lord..."

My workmate Carl: "I hate work. And my colleagues. Especially that stupid bearded idiot looking at me right now. And what's that machine he's pointing at me? What's the earpiece about? I'm gonna staple his tongue to my car and drive to Ghent..."

Don from the post room: "#la-la la-la lah! One of these letters contains a bomb! la-la la-la lah! No-one will know where it came from! la-la la-la lah! And they'll make me their ruler - King Don, King Don! la-la la-la lah!#

It was disheartening. I'd always suspected that work was like that. But to have it confirmed was a bit of a heartbreaker.

I threw the machine away when I got home. Sometimes it's better not to know, I thought.

And I was right. Because that night I bought myself a surprise cake!

If I'd been scanning my thoughts, the surprise would have been ruined!

Carl came round and shared the cake. He brought a stapler and a full tank of petrol. But nothing untoward happened. I suppose he had a change of heart. Perhaps it was the buttercream icing.

My favourite.