...one of those hats...

Lucy bought me a hat for my birthday. It's one of those hats. You know: those hats.

A woolly hat. One of those woolly hats. But not a bobble hat. Not one of those hats.

A beanie hat, I think it might be called. A hat. A woolly beanie hat. You know.

It was a very thoughtful present, as all my hats have disappeared and my ears were getting bitten raw by winter winds.

I have a giant head. Luckily this one is big enough to cover it. I wear it all the time.

I'm wearing it now.

I don't just wear it outside. I wear it inside. It makes me feel safe and protected. I've retreated, only partially, into a synthetic fabric womb.

It's one of those hats.

I like it. It's like a tiny comfort blanket for my scalp.

My scalp has been through some traumas, so needs relief.

I don't know how it looks.

I do know how it looks.

It makes me look like a thug; a textbook robber.

Not a textbook robber. A textbook robber. I don't rob textbooks. But, if the opportunity comes up, I could be shown in a textbook as an illustration of what a robber might look like.

I wear it really low. Yeah, you know. One of those hats - all low.

It makes my brow seem very pronounced. I feel de-evolved. And devolved (like Wales and Scotland). I feel secure. It reminds me of the warm snuggly Hobbesian state of nature. Remember the glow of all those fires? And the energy boost from all that fighting? Comforting. Now I know how Linus felt.

I also look like a Latino rapper. Like Big Punisher. Except thinner. And alive.

Having said that, he died a few years ago, so might be thinner than me by now.

I like wearing this hat. You know? Hats. One of those hats. Nice and low.

It makes me feel all cosy, even when I'm wearing nothing else.

I can go outside in the snow, naked. Not naked. Hat naked. Wearing a hat.

I'm sure I'd be warm enough.

I'd be naked like a de-evolved savage.

I'd be naked like Big Punisher.

I'd be naked, except for the hat.

I keep my dreams in my hat.

Well, in my head.

But I keep my head in my hat.

Head in my hat.

Brain in my head.

Dreams in my brain.

Hat in my dreams.

(I have dreams about the hat, did I mention that?)

The hat might be adversely affecting my mental state, I can't be sure.

You know, one of those hats.

But I'm not a madman. I'm a hat man.

And if running through the snow wearing only a hat (a dream hat, mind you) is crazy, then just call me Paul.

Because that's my name. That's me. You can recognise me. I'll be the one wearing the hat. Nice and low.

Understand?