I was playing for Man Utd, warming up on the pitch before our big match against Chelsea. For some reason Paolo Wanchope was in the Chelsea side and I could see him practicing some dribbles when out of nowhere an errant Wayne Rooney clumsily attempted to take the ball off of him, resulting in Wanchope writhing in agony on the floor. Then that fucker Paul Durkin shows up and sends Rooney off. IN THE WARM UP!
I go to tell Durkin exactly what I thought of that decision but remember the new Respect policy so restrain myself and look around for our captain, Gary Neville but he's sitting at a table eating lunch so I think "fuck this" and argue with Durkin alongside Fergie who is sitting on the bench. I tell him he's a disgrace to his profession etc.
Durkin storms off and comes back a few seconds later, presenting me with the rule book. I throw it on the floor in disgust.
The dream goes off the rails here. British Sea Power appear on the pitch at a table replicating the last supper, somehow they are producing sounds as they eat their food. Then there's some kind of medieval war which wasn't so interesting.
I'm going to the Lake District today. What are you doing?