NOW when your nickname is the Prince of Darkness you wouldn't expect anything to spook you too much. But that wasn't the case with our own Dark Lord on Sunday morning.
Stirring in his crypt, the night creature suddenly became aware of noises going on outside. At first he thought they were coming from the flat downstairs, but on venturing into the living room he got the shock of his life.
"Waaah!" he screamed, leaping into action like a vampire launching himself onto an unsuspecting victim.
"Waaaah!" shouted Withers, equally traumatised at the early morning greeting, having emerged from a booze-filled kip on the Prince's sofa.
Somehow the Prince had completely forgotten that after rounding off last Saturday night's party with a curry and a few more drinks he had kindly consented to let the Wonderful One bed down for the night at his gaffe.
It reminds me of the time, having been out until the early hours at a party in Newcastle, I returned to the house where I was supposed to be staying, only to find that my host had gone to bed hours earlier and was sleeping the sleep of the damned.
Having thrown numerous bricks of varying sizes at her window it dawned on me that I was destined to spend a bitterly cold night on the streets of this northerly outpost.
Thankfully, I managed to flag down a taxi to take me to a local hotel where I was able to check-in at a little after 3.30am in the morning.
The next day, however, I woke with alarm to hear someone moving about the room. I opened my eyes to see a figure in white, bathed in a celestial glow.
"Waaaah!" I shouted, and for the briefest of moments thought I had passed into the afterlife.
"Sorry, duck," said the cleaner, "Didn't realise the room was occupied."