They say that if you sit down and write down your dreams first thing in the morning it will help you make sense of what your unconscious self is trying to say to you so I’m going to give it a try.

‘I’m dressed as a matador in a supermarket but my trolley is a lawn mower and the shelves are angled towards me and tins of fruit keeps falling off and as I pick up the tins I realise that the aisle is made of grass and as I look up I realise I am at the MCG but I’m in the nude. It must be a cricket match because there are stumps in the ground but they are made of licorice all sorts. The crowd is doing a Mexican wave but from the front row back wards and the last row start flying and I realise they are angels … but kind of hot, slutty angels in short denim skirts and boob tubes and one of them flies down and gives me a towel to wear but the towel is see through and then Winston Churchill drives out in the drinks cart and gives me a martini and I get in with him but he’s turned into the Paddle Pop Lion. We drive through a gate and a guy in a pith helmet shoots the paddle pop lion with a tranquilizer gun and I start running through the jungle but I try not to spill my coffee. I stop in the doorway of a laundromat and try to have sip of the mango daquiri but I can’t because I’m still wearing my astronaut helmet. Then Drew Barrymore offers to clean my oven so I go back into the Musee D’Orsay and play squash with Darth Vader again but the ball goes down the stairs and I chase it on a pony called Allan who can recite all of Shakespeare’s sonnets in Arabic but he gets hit in the head with a can of peaches which I put on my lawn mower and go to the checkout …’

They’re right … it works. I feel like licorice!!