Talking to ghosts has always been a favourite hobby. It’s probably tied up with the Jesus complex. Ever since I was very young, I always prided myself on my ability to converse with members of the other world. Later in life, I developed a similar ability to speak with people who voted Conservative.
I can’t truthfully remember when I first began conversing. There wasn’t a seminal moment when I moved from being a cute little lad to being a conduit of other worldly mutterings, but as a kid, I was certainly not the norm.
“Our Matt has been talking again in his sleep,” my sister would report.
“Our Matt has been walking around in his sleep,” she’d tell our neighbourhood friends.
“Our Matt cried at The Song of Bernadette!”
Yes, fully-fledged member of the La La Club.
My big sister had a profound belief in my madness. She said I had mad eyes and kept shouting out in my dreams. She knew all about the Devil who came looking for me at night and she told as many people as she could about my nocturnal visitations.
“He says his prayers every night and then sings Walt Disney classics and Cliff Richard songs!”
via Shuffle Off…!