Dreams do come true, they say. I hope not. I keep having a recurring dream about dating diminutive Top Gear presenter Richard “Hamster” Hammond. I have no idea why. I’m sure he’s a lovely chap and all, but I don’t exactly lust after him during my waking hours.
Strangely enough, this budding bedtime romance is going rather well. Richard and I have been on a number of dreamy dates and shared a romantic dinner together (I must point out he is always a perfect gentleman and keeps his hands to himself). But why Richard Hammond? I really can’t explain my brain’s logic. I suppose it could be much worse – my unconscious mind could one night confuse him with
or Keith Richards.
That would be very wrong.
Trouble is, I’m worried where this nocturnal relationship is heading. Everything is going so well, I just know he’s going to dump me. I’m reluctant to go to sleep because I know one night I’m going to hit the pillow and hear “Tiggy, I really like you, but…” Oh, pretend imaginary Richard, how could you do this to me?
I should dream up a plan of revenge. I will attempt to make Richard jealous by secretly dating Top Gear co-presenter Jeremy Clarkson. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Jeremy is much taller and can probably drive faster. That will teach Hamster to play with my dreams!
Knowing how my dreams usually end, Jeremy will probably turn into a huge beetle, eat the Eiffel tower and I’ll end up hitchhiking naked around the Paris Ring Road. And then all my teeth will fall out.
I can’t avoid sleep and my Hamster forever, so I better prepare for the worst. Providing Richard Simmons doesn’t make a nightmarish appearance, I might be able to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart and soldier on until morning.
And I must remember never to watch Top Gear before bedtime…