I had a terrible nightmare last night. I thought that someone was in my room.
I was dreaming that a man was standing in silence at the foot of my bed and that he was there to do me harm. ‘Wurhurrrr! Audrey!’ I called for my little dog, but she was hiding under the bed and refused to help. I managed to open my eyes slightly and realised that the intruder was in fact Hollywood heartthrob Christian Bale.
‘I’m Batman,’ he said. ‘The Dark Knight.’ He sounded like Scooby Doo.
I sleepily moaned a question. ‘Yes, it is a dark night, isn’t it – what do you want?’
He held out his hand. ‘Can you do me a favour and lend me ten quid?’
‘Look, Batman . . . Christian . . . whatever – I don’t negotiate with terrorists, please leave. And anyway, why are you dressed as Einstein? And what the hell are those!?’ He could have been the famous scientist’s identical twin had it not been for the fact that he had grown a pair of enormous breasts.
He moved closer. ‘After I’ve given you a good hiding,’ he barked, ‘I’m off back to the Batcave to work on my theory of Relativititty.’
Suddenly, he wasn’t so frightening. ‘You’re crazy,’ I told him. ‘No wonder you got arrested.’
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