LEAVE YOUR GUN AT HOME, BILL

I want to be a 1930s man in a sharp suit, running up to girls with Jazz Hands with the promise that I CAN MAKE YOU FAMOUS.

I need to watch Chicago again. And learn how to become a better Billy Flynn.

fuck, it would be cool if everything was a musical. Once I was singing that 'so long, farewell, auf weidersen, goodbye' song from The Sound of Music down the main corridor of my old school. It was deserted, just me and the pictures of people who had done stuff on the walls. And the names of Oxbridge winners and Head Boys and Head Girls, but fuck them because I was skin and not just letters. There was another photo of the headmaster with his children. His mouth was stuck in a permanent muppet smile, like the top half of his head could suddenly just fall back and I could look into his body. And see nothing but crumpled notes about how to make Primark ties look classy. His son was behind him with a snooty, toe stuck up arse look. I know that he'll be fucked, later on.

Anyway, i was singing and the deputy headmaster came out and joined me. And we had a beautiful few seconds of walking down the corridor singing The Sound of Music. Me, the Deputy Headmaster and then his Secretary.

I often dreamed about starting to sing a song in the dining room and then everyone sings along...that's just joy, you know?

So i'm glad I have a moment of musical joy. I just need to be Billy Flynn and try not to break anyone's heart, dreams. And I will make a star out of you, I promise.