Last night I was in the middle of a great dream in which Holly Willoughby was cooking me a Sunday dinner. Just as I was about to tuck in, a phone appeared on the table, and it was ringing. Being the polite sort I picked it up.
ME: Hello?
THEM: Uh, hello Sir. It’s the, uh, Sherby57 Incident Room.
ME: Obviously. What’s up?
THEM: Well there’s a small tear between our universe and the next, and we need someone to sew it up.
ME: That’s pretty routine, why didn’t you phone the officer on duty?
THEM: You are the officer in duty…Sir.
ME: Hmmm, I’d ask that you check the rota again.
THEM: Ok, but I’m pretty sure that…oh, this is last weeks rota.
ME: Right, I’ll leave that with you then. Toodle pip.
And I hung up. Can’t people just double check? Honestly. Oh well, I did learn one thing out of the whole thing: Holly makes lovely roasties.
[...] Meal Interrupted – An account of a dream that was rudely interrupted by incompetent [...]