Just received this in response to email:

I am currently being held captive against my will in a small suburb. I am being tortured with sleep deprivation and chemical contamination from brown, foul smelling slurry. This barbaric treatment is relentless but, strangely, I think I’m suffering from some kind of fatherly, plutonic Stockholm Syndrome.

Should anyone read this, please inform the authorities that my captor is Caucasian, around 1ft tall and devilishly handsome. I’ll let you know his weight and name as soon as I work on my escape plan:

I’m thinking of taking on the guise of a dishevelled, aging parent who needs to make a midnight dash to Sainsbury’s for Infacol… That’s when I’ll make a break for it and hide in a cinema, scoffing pix ‘n mix for nothing but a sugar rush until I muster up enough strength to join the circus and sneak into small, communist state in Eastern Europe.

Wish me luck,

Alex.