A Twitter dream diary

Where in the world can you jump on a bus being driven by a green-haired lesbian, hang out of the window as it speeds round corners without risking serious injury or death, and set off an on-board smoke machine without having even paid for a ticket?

The answer, sadly, is nowhere, unless you happen to live in my head. Yes, I lived through the above scenario, albeit through the medium of dreamland. The lesbian was great fun, as it happens - she was on her final ever shift so we had an impromptu bus rave before calming down and marvelling at the redder-than-usual lunar eclipse. Luckily the other passengers didn't mind because there weren't any.

A new addition

Here's a thought to brighten your day: I sleep naked. And when I wake from my slumber on Sunday mornings, I tend to stumble rather precariously down the stairs, minus clothes, to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. During this rather laborious, energy-sapping process, I usually stub my toe four of five times, mumble an obscenity or two and have a testicular near-miss with the bottom banister.

In my naked stair-descending career thus far, I'm yet to be caught by another person/mammal. However, our house dynamic shifted during the weekend. A creature now lives in my kitchen. She is called Vera and is 12 weeks old. She is an impressionable, slightly timid kitten.

Viva Barca

The weekend before last saw thousands of Mancunians and Barcelones descend on London for the Champions League Final, and very exciting it was too if you like football, which approximately 75 per cent of my friends do not - friends who have social lives and see each other on Saturday evenings rather than sit down in front of the TV with a solitary tin of beer and a container overflowing with sweet and sour pork (Hong Kong style, obviously). 

So, thanks a bundle UEFA for scheduling the game when my presence was required at a dinner party, you mercenary, self-centred FIFA-esque bastards.