Analyse this, you specious, Freudian quack-merchants…

Last night, I dreamt that ITN's Sir Trevor McDonald was presenting a news item about a remarkable new light aeroplane that had wings made from a duvet. The piece began with the aircraft perched on top of a large pile of boulders, from which it carefully descended in the style of a four-wheel drive car (its duvet flapping behind it). It then taxied off along the Australian desert with Sir Trevor at the controls. As the aircraft took off, banking sharply to the right, I couldn't help noticing that the wings were actually made from a quilt, not a duvet. Suddenly, the image cut to the plane's interior, and I saw that it was now being piloted by the late Douglas Adams. "It handles like a Cessna," he observed, as we headed off, following a long, straight road (complete with hump-back bridge), across the Irish Aran Islands.

…And then I woke up.

That's the second time I've dreamt about Australia this year. I can't tell you about the first time. I told Stense (who featured rather heavily in it), and she responded accordingly.

By Richard Carter

A fat, bearded chap with a Charles Darwin fixation.

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