A funny thing happened to me on the way home from a car dealership
the other day.
I was driving along when suddenly everything became black and white and
slow motion. A little girl in a red coat stopped walking down the
street, looked at me in a strange way before being dragged from the path
of a jack-knifing juggernaut by some bloke in a suit.
Then, I was a child swimming with a bloke in a suit. Then, I was
swimming with some sultry eight-year-old girl while a big, mean-looking
shark lurked menacingly. I blinked (in slow motion, of course). I was
confronted with images - possibly dreams, possibly memories - that were
all filmed beautifully, but which I couldn’t make any sense of.
For example, in one dream sequence I was sitting in a restaurant with
some woman who cleared the table with a swipe of her arm, climbed on it
and tore my glasses from my face without a thought to the possible
damage to my lenses. She then kissed me passionately.
In another dream, I was being eyed-up by some woman as I washed her
After seducing her on the kitchen table, I realised her husband must be
in bed as she kept telling me to be quiet. It was a little strange to
discover that she was my wife and her husband was actually my son.
After this, my bride-to-be punched me in the face. It must have been
because she’d seen my hugely impressive shark bite, which I don’t
I suppose I mustn’t complain. I’ve still got my sultry eight-year-old
(who is now about 30 but still only operates at 50 frames per second),
and my life has quite a catchy soundtrack - although sometimes it’s a
All I know is, that’s the last time I buy a Peugeot.