Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These?

As many of you know this summer we were blessed to have a certain friend from Down Under stop by for a weekend, and we had an absolutely wonderful time. I wish I could say the same was true of our latest visitor from Oz…
In a horrid display of Fair Play, last night my subconscious decided that I needed to dream that Kevin Rudd showed up at the house for dinner (quite uninvited, I might add); and not only did Kevin show up but his whole cabinet tagged along…and it pains me to tell you there ain’t an Elle Macpherson or Mel Gibson among ’em. Not a handsome bunch at all. So there they all are, wandering around Bingley Manor, helping themselves to all my wine (hmmm, there’s a Labor Morality play in that one), and Kevin is just droning on and on with that plastic look on his face, and they decide to play soccer. In my living room. Now, honesty forces me to admit that under the new Labor government of Rudd’s my house is far bigger than it was when Tim was here (well, at least in the dream), but, really, it’s quite cheeky to invite your whole cabinet over to someone’s house and then play soccer in his living room.
And drink up all my goddamned wine!

3 Responses to “Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These?”

  1. Are you sure this wasn’t just an aftereffect of that bottle of Horse Whiz cabernet?

  2. nightfly says:

    It’s a prophetic dream! We can’t elect Huckabee! They’ll all come over for endless pastry feasts, and we’ll be taxed for each piece we serve!

  3. There are wonderful drugs available which would react badly with the alcohol you consume and save you these distressing nightmares.
    Just a thought.

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