Onkel Herr Doktor von Squeakenstein has awoken from what he calls "The Sleep of a Thousand Tears" (snoring unmusically through new year's eve) and has reported for duty stating definitively that he is, and I quote, "Fully recovered und enthusiastic about zer tasks ahead, most certainly Jawohl! Mein herr" He then fell off the curtain rail whilst trying to click his heels together. Oh dear and just when I thought that 2007 had the promise of being such a good year...
Anyway the Giant Rubber Goth Bat Agony (a pain in the arse at the very least) Uncle has been pondering a subject dear to his ghastly rubber heart - the interpretation of dreams. He says that for a dream to be truly memorable and suitable for interpretation the experimental subject must consume 50 grams of strong west country cheddar and 25 grams of cambozola thirty one and a half minutes before bedtime and at least two hours before the commencement of REM sleep and wear light blue lycra-free night attire (honestly these mad scientists - so precise!)
I sneaked a look over his wing whilst he was hard at work on his magnum opus and I can revel exclusively that erotic dreams about Natasha Bedingfield mean that you're just plain weird especially if you're female.
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