I was visited in a dream last night by somebody famous. This is what happened.

Me: ZzzzzzzZzzZzzzZ (I know, I sleep like I’m in the Beano)

Him: Psst! Andy! Andy! Wake up Andy!

Me: Wake up? I thought you were meant to visit me in a dream?

Him: Oh right, yeah, in that case, go back to sleep again, I’ll be there in a minute.

Me: Well I can’t sleep now for goodness sake, there’s a stranger in my room.

Him: What if I were to give you… SOME MCVITIES?

Me: How the hell will that help? They’re biscuits.

Him: What?

Me: McVities. McVities are biscuits.

Him: Did I say McVities? I meant rohypnol.

Me: So, let me just get this straight, you’re a stranger that’s snuck into my house, practically danced on the creaky floorboard, and now you want to give me rohypnol for a reason which you haven’t actually explained yet.

Him: Yes, that’s basically it.

Me: Then no.

Him: It’s either the rohypnol or this comedy mallet.

Me: Why does it have to be either?

At this point I was clubbed around the head. The next thing I saw I was in some brightly lit place confronted by a man that could only be described as Jesus.

Me: Describe yourself!

Jesus: I am Jesus.

Me: Blimey, in that case this all got a bit blasphemous, I hope Rowan Williams doesn’t stumble upon this.

Jesus: Rowan Williams?

Me: You know, the Archbishop?

Jesus: Ah, you mean Rowan Atkinson.

Me: Err… no. Aren’t you meant to know this stuff? Aren’t you omniscient?

Jesus: No, my dad is. I figure the omniscient gene is just recessive in me. I know a bit about 19th century naval warfare if you’d like to hear about that?

Me: You know, about 300 words ago, there was some kind of point to this. Now I’m stood talking to Jesus about 19th century naval warfare. Where the hell are we anyway?

Jesus: This, my friend, is Heaven.

Me: What? Why is there so much shampoo here?

Jesus: Alright, it’s Boots. But a heavenly Boots.

Me: They don’t even have any chewing gum on the counters.

Jesus: Ok, it’s a regular Boots, but that’s not the point, I visited you for a reason you know.

Me: Then what was it?

Jesus: You must write a sitcom.

Me: About you and Rowan Atkinson?

Jesus: No, because that would probably be somehow even more blasphemous than this has already been, and then you’d just be asking for trouble.

Me: Then what?

Jesus: It shall be about a man who accidentally imports a giraffe. At first, he does not like it, but then they grow to love each other. They are the odd couple.

Me: So you basically want me to just write Turner and Hooch. With a giraffe. Why the hell would I do that?

Jesus: Because there’s the potential for a pun in the title, that’s why.

Me: What is i- oh, wait, I see, is it ‘Having a Giraffe?’.

Jesus: Yes, the stereotypical cockneys will love you for it. Everybody else will hate you, but that’s not the point.

Me: What about you? Aren’t you meant to love everybody?

Jesus: That’s not true, haven’t you seen my facebook page? I’m only a fan of the O2 Unlimited Orgy of Fun and that animal that does the Compare the Meerkat adverts.

Me: So you’ll hate me for it as well?

Jesus: Yes.

Me: Then why will I write it?

Jesus: Because of the pun Andy… because of the pun…

Then he turned a kettle on and disappeared into a cloud of steam. When I woke up the next morning I had a bizarre urge to write ‘Having a giraffe’. I’ll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, I’m going to go and eat a chocolate eclair. Bye!