I’m not weird, am I? I mean, you guys would tell me, wouldn’t you?

Sometimes I feel like I’m wandering around and Echo and his Bunnymen are singing about how strange I am in the background.

It’s true what they say mind you – when you’re strange, faces really do come out of the rain.

Like the other week when I bumped into a blast from the past in the middle of a shower in town.

I had to do a double-take when I saw them – was it really an old acquaintance of mine or perhaps an imaginary childhood friend?

I soon discovered that they were in fact a real person because every imaginary friend I’ve had suffered from intense social phobias and refused to hug me, even on my birthday.

I’ll be honest, I found it slightly perturbing that another human being was actually happy to see me – maybe they thought I’d come into money or heard a rumour that I was on my way out (dying, not down the pub).

Suspicious of their motives, I reciprocated my school pal’s hug and engaged in the usual drivel, you know, feigning interest in what they’ve been up to over the years and pretending that their kids don’t look like miniature versions of Sloth from The Goonies when they whip out their phone.

It wasn’t long though before a friendly chat and cheerful reminiscing turned awkward.

“Have you still got my soul?” they asked, laughing in such a way that I knew they were having a bigger dig than Time Team.

I then spent seven minutes (yes, I was counting) listening to how weird I was as a kid.

I should explain.

As quite a morbid and socially inept child, I took great delight in purchasing the souls of my friends for a whopping 10p a la The Simpsons .

Everyone thought it was great at the time that they had some extra cash to score a few of those plastic sticks with sherbert in, but I knew that having a legion of minions to serve me once I entered the Underworld would pay off.

“Can I buy it back?” they laughed, their eyes serious.

“I thought I was weird!” I laughed back.

Clearly my ‘friend’ had spent years musing over the loss of their most important asset.

But why? Had they found God?

Were dogs growling at them as they passed by?

Or had they suddenly lost the ability to perform their favourite Motown classics on karaoke?

“Ok…..let’s call it £26.53 and it’s yours,” I told them, sternly.

“That’s a lot! And strangely specific.”

“Interest.” “Fair dos.”

Bizarrely I came home exactly £26.53 richer! I really hadn’t expected to make that from one measly, little soul.

Had I known the fool would pay up, I would have asked for at least 44 squid, as well as some PPI (totally non-refundable, in this case).

It just goes to show that this little weirdo ain’t so weird when it comes to investments.

All I need to do now is advertise my second-hand souls on eBay.

I heard that’s how Sir Alan got started.

Then I just need to recruit some new buddies to carry out my evil deeds in Hades when I pop my clogs.

I wonder if I still have my imaginary friend’s number?

At least they didn’t think I was weird!