waider | warren ellis eats my brain

So last night I dreamt that I was on the piss with Warren Ellis, and we'd no sooner gotten into a bar when he'd persuaded two girls to come sit with us, one with a Northern accent and the other Dublin, I think. Then he wandered off, and when he came back the bar filled up with people wearing soccer team shirts and scarves (blue and white; for some reason, the word "Millwall" bounced around my head) who proceeded to stab the ethnic staff in a really slow and casual fashion. At which point I very suddenly woke up with a racing heart. JEEZ, Warren. Turn off the frickin' brane ray.