mrry (Happy New Year)
 
Dreams 19/Aug/2001

It seems that I have been invited to a wedding, at which Prince William is the best man. I too have to make a speech. I dress in the shockingly-awful ensemble of a red shirt, beige trousers, black Doc Martens shoes and a black jacket. I stuff my speech into my jacket pocket, and head off to the venue, with my crumpled, pink, laminated ticket in my hand.

Which seems to be Muirend Safeway, although, once I am inside, it becomes at once Heathrow Airport, the SECC, and the Cabinet War Rooms in Westminster. We queue up to be searched for security reasons. I notice Chris Evans walking past in the other direction: he is booed by the rest of the queue, whilst I star-spot.

I get to the security guard. First he tells me to put eye-patches over both of my eyes. I keep them on until I hear laughing, whereupon I take them off. I then proceed to take all of the metal objects (including two identical umbrellas in either jacket pocket) out of my pockets, only to be told that what looks like a metal detector doesn't detect metal, rather malice. I walk through without setting it off.

I think that I might be Prince William.

 
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