The image was of astounding clarity. It showed me being attacked by three Hare Krishna monks. One of the hairy christers was on my back and smashing a cymbal over my head. The second scary kroshna had me in an almighty nipple cripple, fully twisting my left nipple 525 degrees anticlockwise. The third hazy kringa had his bible open and was about to violently snap it shut across my cahoonies. It was depicted in incredible detail. I could see the stress of the skin around my nipple, almost at tearing point. I could see the tears rolling down my face. I could see the rabid determination in the eyes of my enraged chanting attackers. I could see the hairs on my soon to be distorted testes.

Look harmless enough – wait till you have one tearing at your nipple like a starving monkey on a bunch of bananas via Wikipedia

It was staggering but even more marvellous considering this is exactly what had happened to me only a week earlier. I guess they just didn’t find it amusing having me streak through their religious ceremony at their ashram and pretend to hump the leg of their guru. To be fair, they seemed pretty good about it the first three of four times. They just snapped for some reason on the seventh attempt. Regardless, it was undeniable; it appeared that my nose had precognitive powers…retrospectively. It could tell me the future…from the…umm…err…past!

My nose could tell the future, just time delayed. This was not too surprising as generally speaking my nose is quite uneducated. It suffered mild brain damage when I sniffed hydrochloric acid fumes too vigorously in year nine chemistry. It is therefore a touch slow. I was incredibly excited by the possibilities my nose had to offer though and over subsequent weeks began to brew up all manner of concoctions to generate massive amounts of nasal slime and to splash them onto any transparent surface available. I nearly killed myself in my zealous snorting of a powerful mixture consisting of wasabi, coffee grinds, sand, and used talcum powder. It did manage to generate a thirty mega-joule sneeze, however it ruptured the linings of my nose and it took three weeks for the bleeding to stop.

It seemed therefore that although in that one awe inspiring instance my nose was apparently supernaturally endowed I do not believe it is a thing I can repeat, at least not predictably. Do not come and ask my nose to predict the lotto numbers, where Bin Laden is hiding or who will win American Idol 2010. My nose knows not these things. My nose knows nothing else. I am sorry.