In Harrisgate, it rained phlegm, whilst in Pyrmont ...

... the most bizarre thing happened to me whilst dashing through the Fish Markets during my lunch break. I marched steadfastly forth through the car park, determined to get to the oval to do a few laps before the end of my lunch-hour, when the heavens opened up and a torrent of Something rained forth. It pattered down upon the tarmac around me, bouncing off my red oriental Adidas slippers in a grotesque cascade.

I looked aghast - left and right - but spied no culprit. Not a shotputting fishmonger was to be seen. To my horror, God had cursed me, opened up the heavens and rained down upon my pretty feet a shower of .... prawn heads! Above me, to my disgust, hovered steadily overhead a flock of seagulls, their eyes twinkling with mischief and - perhaps - malice, mingled with the satisfaction of a job well done? Around my feet fanned out a pink mosaic of prawn heads, the stuff of a house-cat's wildest fantasies. Their loathsome pink antennae curled forlornly, their black eyes blank, yet somehow mocking me for the injustice of their fate.

My body jittered a little dance of distaste and fear. Could this be a sign that the apocalypse is coming? Didn't somewhere in the Old Testament say that when it rained frogs (or was it babies?) on a Friday, a foul fiend was about to take over the whole world? I imagined a doomsday headline on the weekend Herald: "Phlegm in Outer London; now prawn heads rain down over Sydney: The end is nigh!"

Remember, if you intend to travel to the Fish Markets, some sort of large hat (with a gutter-like brim) may be in order.