Dreamt that I lived across the road from Douglas Adams. There was a table outside his house with a plastic box on it. This is where his mail went. Fans would send him big bags of sweets and packets of noodles. I would open the box and rummage around in it with desire to steal some of these treats but I would feel very guilty and not do it because I really like Douglas Adams and those sweets and noodles were his. Besides, the sweets were liquorice allsorts and I don’t really like those.
Then I stood on a rooftop doing something. Can’t remember.
Finally I went to a gig/comedy workshop run by David Mitchell in a small theatre. The attendance was very low so we all sat in a line onstage (I sat next to David - ooooooh get a load of me). We sat there writing amusing sentences and I also remember sitting there thinking about how Nick Clegg is an arsehole. I believe Robert Webb was sitting in the backrow looking quite glum.
