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Last night, I dreamt of Hillary Clinton. Yeah, I know, it's freaky. I dreamt I was living in her living-room, in a flat that looked curiously like mine on Great Eastern Street and that she came to see me because she was tired of the presidential campaign and wanted to rest. So I suggested her to go to Soho with me, David and other gay mates. And we ended up in some creepy gay bar but it looked like she was having fun. She had an intense red lipstick. She made me think of my mother. Really weird.

I spend too much time on this presidential campaign, I have a dissertation to deliver for fuck's sake!