I wake up and take the PH balance of my own urine and log it on a spreadsheet.
I then write down my dreams onto the side of a Chinese lantern in Sanskrit and release it out of my window so that my ora can re-engage with nature. I watch from my balcony as it floats over Hyde Park raining invisible orbs of my own cosmic resonance onto the city I love.

I make a goji berry Nespresso in a tagine made from Himalayan rock salt that I bought in the kasbahs of Marraskesh and spend 5 minutes imaging where I'd like to be in five years' time.
I then make a small nest in my wardrobe out of lemongrass and turmeric, inside which I practice 10 to 15 minutes of 'Ashwanzi Horse Yoga'. The darkness brings down my potassium levels and the turmeric stains the carpet.

I spend 10 minutes every morning enjoying a bit of 'Owl Time'. This involves strapping on a beak that I've carved out of mango wood and then perching on the edge of my bath, squawking and defecating. Owls are my spirit animal and sharing an owl experience with the universe on a daily basis allows me to connect with the cosmos. The process also allows me to sweat out surplus amounts of phosphorus and mitochondria. I imagine that I'm choking up owl pellets which contain the mummified faces of everyone who's been mean to me over the last few weeks.

I shower using natural products as the chemicals found in shampoo and shower gels can be toxic. Also, as tap water contains fluorides and toxic metal salts, I don't even use that. I stand naked in the shower washing myself with air and simulating a shower experience which gets my head in the game. 

I remove my I-phone and MacBook Air from a lead-lined sarcophagus that I keep under my bed to protect me from 'Electromagnetic Horseflies'.
I send an email to myself telling me how good I am at everything and sign off by inviting myself to a party which I reply to by saying I'm too busy, which actually helps the social side of my brain grow. I call it my Social Brain Gym'
I drink a mug of honey and throw it straight back up into the kitchen sink, choking as the sticky, amber, columns block my airways. Vomitting up honey is sort of like being sick in slow motion and makes you think that you're going to actually die. I find that a near death experience every morning grounds me and helps me realise how precious life can be.

Breakfast. A spoonful of coconut oil, some chaga mushroom powder - great for the immune system - a little bit of frog spawn, colostrum, arsenic and collagen. I drink dog's milk because it's low in myxotoxins and then I have a spoonful of Calpol so that I can connect through time with my infant self and tell him that he doesn't need to be scared of Grandad for much longer.
I introduce the tip of a banana to my anus and allow it to soak in some of the vitamins and potassiums  and then I bury the rest of the banana in a pot on my balcony which contains a bonsai tree and avocado plant. The balcony has absolutely fab views of Marble Arch. 

I walk to work chewing grass like a cow which prevents toxic air entering my bloodstream and also helps me develop a second stomach which might come in useful if I were to ever get cancer.
Instead of listening to music on my commute I turn on my MammalPod, a device that looks like an iPod with headphones but instead of playing music it blows spores, moulds and fungus inside my head which gives me super energies and helps me focus at work. Doctors say if I keep using it I could go deaf or even die within the year.

When I arrive at the office I challenge every member of the team - 25 in total- to a knife fight. This asserts dominance and puts my head into 'Jungle Mode'.
I have a Frappuccino and wash it down with 2kgs of Ayahuaska which helps me concentrate on work for 30 minutes before I enter a nightmarish and terrifying fugue-like state in which I experience hallucinogenic visions of tree demons. The team spend the next 2 hours trying to prevent me from jumping out of the 135th floor of The Gherkin until lunch.

I have a 'Light Lunch' which involves sitting at my desk shining a torch into my own mouth for 10 minutes. I bite and nibble at the rays emitting from my LED Maglite which detoxifies by body and contains all the same nutrients found in a crab salad. 
I then blog. My lunchtime blog has almost 17 followers and involves me talking - in a sort of stream of consciousness - about what I think happens when we die.
I spend the rest of lunch flicking frozen peas at the microwave and muttering to myself about Hanuman, the Hindu Monkey God.
I take off my shoes for the rest of the day so that my energy can connect with the planet's core. 

I drink 12 gallons of water just in time to stave off the early stages of dehydration.  I keep all my water in a tank with an electric eel. The electric pulses add crystalline biorhythms to the water which make me invincible to any weapons built on Earth.
I then have a Kit Kat.
I work for the rest of the day redirecting traffic from redundant websites to clickbait articles online.

I usually have a meeting with the boss in which I beg him not to fire me before doing another 30 minutes of yoga in the middle of the office floor to bring down my heart rate and prepare me for the commute home.

On the way home I eat out of date yoghurts which introduce bacteria into my body. I go home and cry and shit blood.

I go to the gym. My local gym is called 'The Gun Factory' and is actually a replica of a 1930's, Sheffield, steel foundry. As I lift red hot gurders on chains I drink isotonic soup drinks and keep my energy up with raw chicken wings marinated in Ezekial Beans and Chia Seeds.

I go back to my flat and drink CBD oil - derived from cannabis but doesn't make you high- and shine infrared lasers into my head whilst I paint the faces of people who have had a big impact on my day onto my toes and thank them all for coming with me on today's journey. 

I lock my phone devices away and do 5 minutes of mental Taekwondo where I picture myself fighting in my mind's eye. 
I drink a shot of semen extracted from a shark and put on the sound of bullfrogs on my 'Bang And Olufsen Surround Sound Music System' which takes me back to the week I spent in the mangroves with Jason.

I put on my 'Lucid Dreaming Device' which flashes a red light into my eyes every time I have a dream about Grandad so that I can wake up and avoid the night terrors, and then it's off to sleep, ready to take on another day as the biggest cunt in the entire world.