There was one black bird and one white one - let's call them dreambirds - and I had to judge them in an international competition. They were playful like dogs and big and cheeky, rolling over to be tickled. We were all in a pen - the birds, me and the spectators. We linked up, hands on each others' shoulders, and Tony Blair was behind me, crying. I dream about birds a lot, but I don't recall ever having dreamt about Tony Blair.