I’m in Korea at the moment, staying at the eloquently named Hotel BJ in Seoul and I had this weird dream the other night.

I actually know what sparked the dream off, I was in Exit Bar with Swiss James and this scotch guy we know was telling us how he once served Chris Eubank in a bar, apparently he refused to pay and just took the drinks and walked away pointing at his face saying “the face the face”.

Anyway, so in the dream I’m in this pub (back in the UK) with mates, Swiss James is there and Woai and a few others, the pub’s packed and the TV is blaring away showing sports. There’s an announcement on the TV saying that the winner of the competition was about to be announced, the prize was to have a boxing match, tonight, with Chris Eubank (who was jumping around and shadow boxing in the background). The presenter pulled a ticket out of a tombola machine and called out the name, it was me, the pub was in uproar, I’m very confused. The tv flicks straight over to the boxing ring, Chris is already there jumping around and basically looking completely rabid, then some music starts, it’s the theme from Rocky, the camera scans across and from out of the dressing room I step out, flabby and completely white apart from the suntan on my arms and neck-up. I look like I’ve just got out of bed with a hangover. I’m wearing my favourite boxer shorts which are somewhat worn out (particularly in the crotch region) and the fly is hanging open, further down I’m just wearing a pair of socks, one of which is almost completely off my foot and dragging along the ground.

The pub is in uproar, people crowd round laughing, slapping me on the back and shaking my hand, a large glass of vodka appears in my hand. We turn back to the tv, I’m now in the ring and seem to have woken up a little, I’m wearing boxing gloves. I’m thinking “please let me just last one round or let me at least hit him once”, we come to the centre of the ring, the referee makes us touch gloves, steps away and the bell rings.

The bell hasn’t even finished ringing and Chris lunges out with the first jab, it connects, I go down like a sack of potatoes, the referee immediately runs across the ring and raises Chris’s arm, I still haven’t got up. 

By this time most of the people in the pub are rolling around on the floor laughing, along with most of the pub, I drink the large glass of vodka. 

I wake up.

When I was at uni a girl in my class had a book on analysing dreams, I’m not sure what it would make of this. Mind you my mate once dreamt that he had a Yorkshire Terrier. Sure enough the book had an entry on Yorkshire Terriers, it predicted that he would be invited to a cocktail party by an elderly spinster.