I FANCY YOU WARREN EVANS

Let me tell you a story about my mattress. (Hey, where are you going?). My mattress is vile. It's like sleeping in Spongebob's square pants. And when you breathe, you can hear the springs boing deep within, like distant bongos in the Congo. When I wake up, my neck feels like I've been attacked by bears. If I could afford to get rid of this mattress, I would stamp on it and take it to its orthapedic grave with a flame thrower, then I would call an independent inquiry into its reprehensible behaviour between 2009 and 2012.

Now I don't normally do promotional blogging things, but I NEED A NEW BED. I don't just want one. I mean, I want a spacious Victorian house in a leafy area and to be next Tina Fey and have the skin of a baby antelope and to be able to fit 20 Jaffa cakes into my mouth. But I'm OK if that doesn't happen. But this bed, I actually need it - like flowers need rain and Nigella needs Spanx.

So I'm going to use my blog to enter a competition to win a new bed from Warren Evans, and you my dear readers, are just going to have to deal with it. Warren, I've always imagined you to be a handsome devil with strong forearms and a checked shirt, who can fashion a comfortable resting place from a large tree trunk. A bit like that guy from Sex in The City with the dog, but with a more intimate knowledge of ticking and pocket springs. Please give me a new bed, Warren. My back hurts. Did I mention you have lovely forearms?

Anyway, Warren Evans wants bloggers to blog about you or your child's favourite toy that guards your bedroom at night. The one that keeps the monsters at bay. You can do it too!

My child sleeps with an army of toys of all different sizes, plus a machine that plays music and a light saber. But I believe I have the most effective deterrent against things that go bump in the night. I've slept with his toy for about 17 years now. He's called 'Ian' and he's 36 years old. Sometimes he rolls over and kicks me and farts, and good luck asking him to get up in the night to feed a baby. When he's awake, he's always talking and he could take the recycling out a bit more often, if you ask me. But when it comes to making me feel safe, Ian is the best toy in the world. He sleeps by the door, in case of burglars, and will always investigate imaginary noises if you scream loud enough. And when I snore (the scariest, most monstrous sound of all) he gives me a swift knee in the back and tells me to shut up. Bless him. Here's Ian, primed for action, like a tiger. (An unconscious tiger.)

So thank you Ian, for looking after me for all these years, and protecting me from the imaginary burglars. Thank you for being my bed companion and a nice warm person to snuggle up to. And just think, if we had a lovely new bed from WARREN EVANS, maybe you wouldn't sleep diagonally and push me into the pointy corner of the bedside table every night.