whisky
Boobie inspector
Last night’s dreams were a little more random than usual.
Those I can remember:
Being chosen to host the Radio one breakfast show, but having to do it from a cardboard box.
Typing something on a very basic version of facebook on something like word, then having the person who gave me some advice turn up in person with a bunch of lawyers demanding payment for their advice.
For some reason suddenly being Daniel Craig with no shirt on, taking an everlasting piss which started in a men’s toilet, then ended up walking across a road, and into some waste ground before I/he had emptied our bladder.
Coming home to find my front door open, but instead of finding burglars, finding a man from the estate agent showing loads of prospective buyers around my house, and when I asked him why they were trying to sell my house, he said the police had found a body under my patio, and it had increased the value of my house immeasurably.
Those I can remember:
Being chosen to host the Radio one breakfast show, but having to do it from a cardboard box.
Typing something on a very basic version of facebook on something like word, then having the person who gave me some advice turn up in person with a bunch of lawyers demanding payment for their advice.
For some reason suddenly being Daniel Craig with no shirt on, taking an everlasting piss which started in a men’s toilet, then ended up walking across a road, and into some waste ground before I/he had emptied our bladder.
Coming home to find my front door open, but instead of finding burglars, finding a man from the estate agent showing loads of prospective buyers around my house, and when I asked him why they were trying to sell my house, he said the police had found a body under my patio, and it had increased the value of my house immeasurably.
