Three times recently, on the Eastbound District Line platform at Victoria, I have seen people I have momentarily mistaken for junior ministers.
Is there a name for the syndrom whereby one hallucinates obscure government ministers?
Mind you, it's not as bad as the dream that awoke me with a start the other morning. I was smoking a roll-up cigarette in bed. You know what rollies are like - little scrag ends that hang off and are liable to fall off. (Never smoke rollies in bed). Shocked at a lit scrag end falling, I dropped the entire cigarette, and spent ages searching desperately among the pillows for a small incendiary device poised to burn me in my very bed.
Until I realised that I have no cigarette papers and no Hand Rolling tobacco, so it is highly unlikely I would have rolled, lit and smoked a rollie in my sleep...
