I'd a dream about Simon Cowell last night.This is how it went.
Simon could grant me one wish but I had to whisper it.
I asked for five thousand euro. Simon didn't understand my accent.
He kept asking - "You want a new haircut?"
(And his hedge head parting would flash into view.)
"No," I'd whisper- "five thousand!"
But he still didn't understand my accent.
"You want new haircut?" ...
(And his hedge head parting would flash into view.)
This conversation repeated itself over and over again...
My first thought on waking was "I only asked for five thousand...I could've asked for millions..."
Now I'm more worried about the fact Simon Cowell has gotten into my subconscious. The subconscious is meant to be my well of mystery, the source of my inspiration...primeval, irrational, untamed..a place from which poetry will one day leap...not Simon Cowell's head!
If he can get in...who's next? Louis?...Wagner?!!!
I knew telly was dangerous. No more x factor.
The dream is over.
