Friday, November 24, 2006


I woke up in a cold sweat* a little while ago, after a very disturbing dream. First of all, I'd been in a pub and met up with John Barrowman who kept flirting with me big time, and told me he was still unsure as to whether or not he was gay, and could I please help him make his mind up for him.
That bit wasn't so bad, but then he got a call from Torchwood and had to go, leaving me in strange hotel. The hotel had been booked for a very large group of Sci-Fi fans, so I decided it was time to go home as I wasn't part of the group. I started packing, but wherever I checked to see if I'd left anything, I found more and more stuff that I'd brought with me and couldn't leave behind. Weird, huh?
Anyway, I finally get out of the place and start driving along the motorway. My car decides to break down and I stop at a services to call for help.
Help eventually arrives, but the breakdown truck is driven by Jim Davidson, who horror of all known horrors, also decides to take a liking to me.
I managed to drive off when my car was working again, but he followed me. I didn't know he'd done so, and next I know he's calling me at all hours, lurking wherever I go, and saying he can't live without me.**
This gets the attention of a local hack, who takes piccies of us when I'm cornered by him, and next I know, I'm all over the front page of The Sun being tagged as the new Mrs Davidson.

That's when I woke up screaming in a cold sweat.

Still. It wasn't as bad as the nightmare involving Boris Johnson and the bucket of soapy frogs.

What's the most disturbing dream you've ever had?

*That could be down to this flu though.
** If he can't live without me, why isn't he dead yet?