I genuinely did once think I had lost my mind.   After a considerable drink and drugs binge (back in the days when I succumbed to such decadent behaviour) I once woke up in the middle of the afternoon in what can only be described as a straw and mud littered hut in the middle of a field which, upon looking out the entrance, also appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. I had about my person a three quarters full litre bottle of vodka, the best part of forty fags and my trusty tin of, ahem, magical tricks.   I spent two-three days in that hut in varying stages of hallucinogenic delirium and during this period I became convinced that I could converse with crows and, more importantly, they could converse with me. I was the King of Crows and I was sending them off to do my bidding to further our empire. It sounds bizarre now, but at the time I was convinced it was happening.   My reign ended when a couple of mates who had been looking for me, on and off during this period, heard me loudly addressing my subjects from my ramshackle shelter- had I bothered to walk around to the back of the hut I would have noticed the quiet little road some fifty yards in the distance.   Anyway, to cut a long story short they carried me back to the girl I was living with at the time and thus began a week of sweaty come down that I would not wish on anyone. And then she finished with me which, looking back, was fair enough really I 'spose. She's have made a rubbish queen anyway.   I've been all right since, although sometimes I do spot a crow regarding me in a certain way and I find myself wondering whether it recognises my true status...