I had a premonition.
Picture the scene; Woodstock Music Festival, 1969. I, a poor farm hand, dressed head to toe in the only clothes I could afford from the Army Surplus Store; a WW2 German Officers uniform. Dressed in this garb I was mistaken for Leonard Rossiter. At that time, Leonard Rossiter was playing second bassoon for the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Stage hands forcefully led me to Leonard's place on stage, and I was left with no choice but to improvise my way through Jimi's acid rock rendition of 'Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep'.

As it turned out, there were many similarities between playing the bassoon and shearing a sheep, so I soon picked it up. The ensuing experience was a deeply spiritual one. I was transported to a higher plain by a mixture of the highly aesthetic music, strong liquor and illegal narcotics. There I met a spirit guide, Felicity Kendall, who was naked and firey red from head to toe. She told me that if I could beat her at monopoly, she would reveal to me the secrets of the future.

Within an hour, I had a hotel on both the dark blue ones. The bitch stood no chance, and admitted defeat, rather than waste a further hour slowly heading to bankrupcy. True to her word, she told me that she would now show me the future. She parted her legs, and there, between her labia was a widescreen television. She tuned it in by twisting her left nipple, and turned up the volume on her right one.

Despite being partially obscured by her foot-long pubes, I did indeed catch a glimpse of the future before returning to my physical form (where I found the real Leonard Rossiter angrily beating me with his bassoon).

But did the premonition come true? Yes, thirty years later a drugged, sexually assaulted corpse WAS found in Michael Barrymore's swimming pool.

Spooky, eh?
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Mon 22 Nov 2004, 11:50, Reply)