Inspired by the likes of DIY SOS and Changing rooms, I decided I was going to sort out the depressing ditch I live in. I was going to create an inspiring environment low budget style. That was the plan, anyway. So I headed for my nearest Swedish furniture store. Easier said than done, the store proved to be in the middle of nowhere (Croydon) and the only way to access it without some sort of vehicle was to force one's way through bushes and traffic islands. There I was, in the pouring rain, standing in the middle of a busy junction, when the store emerged in all its blue and yellow glory, like an oasis for the thirsty traveller. Catalogue and pencil in hand, I went on a mission to find a desk called Sture and a matress named Sultan Wintergattan. Trapped within Billy shelves and Klippan sofas, and about to lose my mind, I decided I needed help. I learnt that Sture lived in the pick-up area, whilst Sultan Wintergattan must have been a child of my imagination, for it only existed on the store's website. Fair enough. Ten Swedish meatballs and a couple of fags later, I found myself scanning the aisles of the pick-up area, desperately seeking Sture, the desk that was to become my computer's new best friend and should help me organise my domestic life. Packed in a flat cardboard box, Sture didn't strike me...as being anything, really. That should change soon after me and the box got home. Determined to construct Sture in no time, I set to work. These DIV furniture kids are just like giant Kinder eggs: bits and pieces that turn into something wonderful in no time. Wrong assumption. Sture's legs stuck out in funny angles, wooden planks crushed my toes and the obligatory missing screw was, well, missing. Great stuff. Six hours later, I eventually managed to construct something with a slight resemblance to a computer desk. Rather pleased with myself, I went to sleep. Only to be woken up by a strange sound. The kind of sound you get when wooden planks hit the floor from a medium height. Sture had won this time.