cinema

I fell asleep at the movies last week. It's never happened before, not even at that Meryl Streep all-nighter, but the forces that shape the cosmos showed good judgement: my lapse occurred at Three Colours: Red so I didn't miss anything.

Besides, my dreams were much more compelling than the last of Kieslowski's trilogy, though, of course, this is also true of any episode of A Country Practice. Anyhow, I dozed and... I dream of Minnie Driver (right). She's starring with Mercedes Ruhl and Harrison Ford in a remake of The Yellow Rolls Royce. It's the premiere. Minnie turns to me and says: "I love you."

Before I can say: "Do I look like a lesbian?", it's me, not Michael Douglas, appearing in Disclosure. I dash out of Demi Moore's office and down the stairs. Demi leans over the balcony with those breasts, screeching, and the scene changes. Now it's The Dam Busters. Demi drops her bouncing bombs. Her breasts bounce after me, closer and closer. Boom. Boom. Boom. No! I wanted to be in a hit, not a direct hit...

Just as Demi's detachables connect, I'm in Casablanca. Bogie is telling me that I'll always regret it if I don't get on that plane. I say: "Has anyone ever told you your breath stinks?" and suddenly I'm conscious. This guy is shaking me and his breath does stink. "Sorry," he says. "I thought I'd wake you up so you didn't miss the film." "But I am missing the film," I squeal. But he doesn't get it. He just doesn't get it.