Friday, 4 January 2008

Kylie Dream Time Visitation...

I keep having a recurring dream (ie. I've had it twice, but it's the first time a dream has replicated itself, so forgive my unrelenting excitement.) I know that most people's dreams are usually fist-eatingly dull to listen to, but mine features Princess of Pop, Kylie Minogue. So there. What happens (if you can be bothered to read on) is as follows...

I get on a plane and sat in the next aisle is everyone's bucktoothed, pocket-sized, yet fab Aussie pop tartlet, Kylie Minogue (my Mam used to call her Carly Minow, bless her cottons)... I start being political by singing some Madge tunes (Borderline and Vogue for those of you into your gay icons) and Kylie joins in - she's on backing vocals, naturally. We hit it off and the next thing you know we decide to get some sleep (it transpires that we're off to Melbourne in deepest, darkest Down Under) and we spoon each other. She wakes me up with her hideous snoring but I don't mind as am a kind, charitable angelic type person and so set about wiping the Kylie dribbble off my shoulder. When we get to Australia, she kisses me on the cheek, makes me promise to call her and then goes off to catch her bus. I meanwhile, walk about the terminal aimlessly, wondering why I've come to Australia. I am deeply puzzled and despite it looking a rather nice place, I am lost and no one will accept my Euros, which is a bummer as I'm hungry and am trying to secure a Big Mac in Ronald McDonald's finest eaterie with a ten Euro note. I try and call Kylie to get her to come and rescue me... and then I wake up feeling aggravated.

And that's it. Thrilling eh? Sorry...

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