Sunday: Borrow keys from Julie, cleaner at Goldfish Action Group and currently one-woman 'Reinstate Neil' protest committee. Slip back into office and retrieve vital material from recently vacated desk. Take file on chairman David's dodgy handling of charity's finances - ought to make a decent newspaper splash when the Archbishop of Canterbury pins a global conservation medal on him.
Can't leave without slipping on trademark fluorescent goldfish costume covered with Gag slogans. Too bulky to carry off any other way. When costume's built-in fan kicks in, I shed an unexpected tear. At first I suspect it's regret at leaving office where career started, but then realise fan blades are caught up in chest hair. Walk along Thames embankment towards flat, posing with Japanese tourists at £5 a shot - that's next month's rent paid.
Ponder need to forgive David for sacking me so unjustly. Decide instead to go back and kidnap fish collection from his office tank. Ransom will come in handy if unfair dismissal claim rejected.
Thursday: Policeman calls at 9am with search warrant. He has had report of stolen fish. Explain David's vendetta against me and how he's done the stealing - of my girlfriend and my child. Worse still, he's called her Golda. David's fish are in safe-house - utility room sink at Diana's.
She's the Pauline Prescott lookalike head of finance at GAG and my current squeeze. Make a mental note to tell her it's all over when the ransom is paid.
I'm seeing the policeman off the premises when taxi pulls up and starts disgorging piles of baby equipment. Out gets Anka, aka Mrs David, clutching baby. Joy.
Friday: Phones unplugged. Vorderman, Neanderthal flatmate and Countdown addict, away for sleepover. Baby Agnetta - traditional name from Anka's native Latvia - fast asleep in nursery I built months ago. Sit up with Anka planning future together. Will set up new charity for disenfranchised dads: Fathers4Ever.