This morning I was dreaming that Cristiano Ronaldo was my best mate, but since his retirement from football he had become the world's largest supplier of ecstasy pills which he transported around the world in a white van. We were having dinner at his house – he was wearing a strange, pale blue blazer with nothing underneath it – and we were raided by the FBI. Ronaldo said 'I can't go out like this' and jumped out the window which, considering it was a house, should have been no problem, but all of a sudden we were in a gigantic skyscraper and he plummeted to his death. 'Oh well,' said one of the FBI guys. 'You win some, you lose some,' and they left, completely ignoring the thousands...
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