I am recovering my scooter. I have travelled to a distant, misty land for my scooter. I will not leave until it has rightfully been returned to me. Orion don't come closer. This whole river is rigged. Have you ever seen a torso sail through the night sky? I have. Give or take five dozen. I carved Dean Smith's visage into my thigh last night for companionship. It gets a little lonely. I am befriending the cave spiders, once this is all over we will set sail for the USA and eat bisquick on the shores of San Francisco.

Personally I was surprised Clemson even came back to tie it up. They were terrible at capitalizing on Duke's mistakes. Every steal or rebound just resulted in a brick. I think the stat ESPN put up with about 1:30 left in the game said it all: Second Chance Points, Clemson: 4, Duke: 19.

Skywriter flies by leaving the word PENIS in billowy white letters above. Special instructions. Sure enough I am surrounded by them. I fire. The gun does not fire, I FIRE. The gun is an extension of my arms. Hours later I am back in the cave tying sinew around my split-apart bicep. The maggots will love me for this one.

Canadians. Four of them. Hippies. Two o'clock. Engage. My AK-56 jams after six rounds so I switch to M16A4 and fire two frag grenades 5 meters in their direction. They are quickly dispatched. I wake up and the bouncers are hauling me out of the festival grounds. I am in downtown Montreal. NO.

I wake up covered in cave spiders. A nightmare. Just before dawn the metal scrotum goes hovering by towards Manila. We are doomed. Life wasn't always like this.

Frankly Duke's days in the Top 10 are numbered. Imagine that style of play against a machine like Florida or UCLA. The Carolina games should be interesting. I wince at the thought of a Hansbrough-led blowout. I don't know if McRoberts can hang.