Fancy yourself as a Joseph? Think you can read dreams an interpret them sensibly? Well, have a go at this one I had the other day:

Events open to find me chilling in a jail in the People's Republic of China. Demmit, don't start asking how I got there! I don't know either! What I can tell you from my personal experience is that Chinese jails are designed to reform one from the instance one gets a whiff of the hallowed cells.

Moreover, the roof of the cell was too low for one to stand up and on the other hand the walls were too close together for one to sit down. One this was forced to hunch over with bent knees glaring balefully out of the cells.

While I was showing Job a thing or two about lamentations, a Chinese gent in uniform appeared. One look at the chap assured me that even his shoelaces were ironed. The creases of the sleeves of his khakis looked like they could slice salami. There was an almost bemused smile on his face.

I remember thinking to myself what I was going to say, hampered considerably by a spectacular ignorance about the Chinese language when fate stepped in. On later reflection I was not the least bit surprised that the chap spoke in an accent that Michael Wamalwa could learn a thing or two from.

"Well," he said almost cheerfully coming to a stop immediately before me and smiling tolerantly at me. "You're in a fine mess, aren't you?"

I informed him that indeed, the cell was not designed for people like myself.

The chap agreed heartily. "Indeed, people like you I can do without."

"People like me? Is it because I stopped reading books with pictures?"

The man laughed, and actually slapped an immaculate knee.

"Well, you're in good spirits for a spy about to be executed in the morning!"

This double bombshell wiped the smile off my face like a tag team combination of axion and the new supa brite. Even my best friends can tell you that of all the things I am, the one thing I am not is nosy. I'd make a lousy spy. I have to persuade myself to read my own email! But what was sobering was the executing part. Much as I am looking forward to the lamb lying down with the donkey, or whatever animal it is, there are some thing I have not yet done!

"Executed?" My mouth felt dryer than a tap in Nairobi.

The Chinese chap noticed a speck on a boot that shone like a bald head and produced a handkerchief (folded and ironed) to deal with the threat.

"Why yes!" He said absently. "You're to be shot in three hours."

Brain cells I didn't even know I had realized that their days were numbered and kicked to life. The idea of chewing the bamboo bars of the cell was rejected as being impractical and that of using a series of karate chops to break free was found to be wanting in substance. Within three seconds the aforementioned cells threw in the towel and conceded defeat.

"All right." I was amazingly calm for one who could spell St Peter's breath. "Can I see a priest then for my last rites?"

The man looked as if he had inadvertently relieved himself on a very well earthed electrical cable.

"What?" He exploded in a voice of thunder, rattling the windowpanes and the bamboo cell. A vein the size of a garden hose suddenly appeared on his forehead.

"What?! WHAT?!" He sounded as if he could not believe his ears. "A PRIEST?! Do you know you are in the People's Republic of China and religion is sacrilege?" Little flecks of spit were showering from his enraged mouth.

Suddenly i was glad there was plenty of bamboo between us. But the relief was short lived. As soon as the prison staff discovered someone had the audacity to mention 'priest' in the hallowed walls of the hoosegow, my execution was advanced immediately and in very short order i was tied to a post. One thing about the Chinese they do take punishment seriously. Again my wrists were tied to the post in a position too low to stand upright.

They were so incensed they didn't even count to three. The first bullet struck me in the heart and immediately woke me up.

Analyze that!