A friend of mine is getting married in April. Last night I dreamt that another friend of mine was getting married on the same day, to Jude Law. Man, that would have involved some complicated to-ing and fro-ing.
There were at least two moments of hilarity yesterday:
1. Watching an episode of Six Feet Under in which the mother runs through the forest off her head on E. Damn I’d like to see my ma do that.
2. An ‘excerpt’ from the film Alexander on the BBC World Service. It took me a few seconds to work out what was wrong, and then I realised. Colin Farrell was delivering his lines in his finest Dublinese. I don’t know why a British or American accent would have been better, given that Alexander was Macedonian, but Dublinese is just wrong. Example: “Don’t youse worry. We will fi-yet for ower freeeeedum, and no messin.” My brother says the only good thing about the film is that it ends. I can never understand those women who find Colin Farrell attractive. Personally I think he looks as though he ought to be soaked overnight in a scalding hot bath, and possibly have his nicotine-stained hands plunged into a bowl of Harpic, but I guess it takes all sorts.
You know what my new fear is? ‘Katie Mehlua, coming soon to a chicken bus near you’. It’s bound to happen. She also popped up in my dream last night, I don’t know why. I thought I’d put her firmly behind me when I left the UK. Was it some sort of sick joke that an ad for that ONE SONG was on every ten seconds on tv? Who buys that shit? You’d be a bit put out to buy the album and find it has that same song on it 20 times. Just like being on a Chicken Bus of Torture. Which is where I began I think…