Given that the subjects of Band Managers and Elvis Presley had been at the forefront of my thoughts recently, it was only natural that both would infiltrate my dreams. Natural for me anyway, which admittedly isn’t particularly natural.
I was going to relate last night’s nocturnal madness here, but then I remembered how tedious it was listening to other people’s dreams. And if it was tedious listening to theirs, it was likely to be more so listening to mine. So I thought of another way of describing it, as I know you have the attention span of gnats.
You are about to leave the black and white confines of this interminable journal and enter a new, technicolour world peopled with extraordinary characters and talking inanimate objects. A bit like The Wizard Of Oz, but not as plausible. Are you ready? Then let’s begin..
When I came back with the drinks, poor Elvis was distraught. But by then, I was waking up and returning to my black and white world. I remembered that the ghost of Elvis Presley didn’t really roam the earth and that potatoes, with a few exceptions, don’t make good band managers.