We are the Centre of our own Universe ….
I can’t remember ever having a dream containing humour and I’ve never had a dream about Stephen Fry – until last night.
Scenario: Early afternoon in a museum cafe.
Stephen Fry has chosen a table in the back of the cafe as he’s fed up with people claiming his time (recognising him on the street, talking to him as if they know him due to his ubiquitous appearances on tv, radio and cyberspace, etc).
A bit grumpy, he’s longing for peace, quiet and private thinking. A small pot of museum tea sits behind the open book he’s not reading.
A woman’s voice interrupts the start of his reverie.
“I don’t know why they think that dick so important and worthy of our focus. Honestly …”
Stephen is annoyed. His tranquillity is being shattered – and by an insult!
He looks to his right. The woman’s back is facing him; she continues to sigh and “tsk” dismissively.
“Excuse me,” he starts to say, “there’s no need to be rude; you can just ignore that I’m here, you know …”
The woman, however, still in her own reverie, continues “… honestly, what a dick.”
Stephen repeats, “Excuse me …” and the woman finally turns around.
“Sorry! What?” she asks, confused out of her previous flow.
She stands aside to consider him and Stephen sees she has been studying one of the exhibits – a small iron display – a phallic relic from some archeological dig, mounted alongside its metal information plaque.
“Oh, uh, nothing,” he chuckles in reply. “Sorry …”.
She turns back to the exhibits and ambles away.
He has another sly look and laughs to himself.
