Perhaps the wierdest dream ever?

I had the strangest of dreams last night and even more strangely, I can remember it.

I've had strange dreams before, only one other that I recall - but only because it keeps recurring. The vast majority disappear with awakening.

This one from last night is one that I remember and will record it whilst I still can.
The content may offend, I hope not.
It may bring up 'wrong ideas', I hope not.
It may also give cause to brand me a some sort of 'phobic' in these politically correct times, but not so.

What you are about to read, should you wish to, is entirely the product of my sleeping brain - or was the brain awake while my eyes were closed, as in "lights out - no-one home"?

I cannot recall how, but it must have been that I'd won some competition or other, the prize being an all expenses trip to London, a place that I do not like, as the guest of a leading radio disc jockey - is that what they're called these days? No, presenter is the word I'm looking for.

We'd gone to a night club, a real hell hole and then back to the chap's home to meet his wife who was reported as shy and not a public figure at all.

We got out of the taxi and walked over a canal bridge, to his house on the canalside, sandwiched by the road and the canal. His 'wife' was waiting for us, all six foot six of him, long hair, closely shaven, thick red lips, wearing what appeared to be a terribly expensive suit.

They looked around to see if anyone was watching before I was taken into the house, which was the strangest place I'd ever seen. I mean, as a painter and decorator, I'd seen some places - hell, I'd even done some places myself, but none like this.

There was one other person there, a middle aged lady in servants outfit, the classical one from old tv series. She, it seemed, had been hired to serve food and to cater to the hosts and guest.

There were statues and pictures everywhere; as far as I could see, every single item was male, not a single female item.

The place was filthy, cast aside takeaway cartons strewn everywhere, left where they'd fallen, magazines and newspapers strewn around, clothes, everything.

I needed the loo and was directed upstairs. I found the bathroom but it was so dark that I could hardly see what I needed - the toilet. As I stepped inside, spotlights came on, highlighting large pictures of naked male couples and triples, engaged in the activities the apparently enjoy so much.

As I lifted the cover to the toilet, I heard a swishing sound - it was curtains being drawn to reveal a large painted wall, upon which moving images were being projected. You can guess the subject - I didn't need to for it was quite graphically demonstrated.

I failed to complete my mission, but I made my way downstairs, made my apologies, profferred my thanks and left as fast as I could.

Hearing the welcome pop-popping sound of a boat engine, I cadged a lift away from there. The boater kindly carried me as far as a hotel close by the canal. I said goodbye, went to the hotel, obtained a room - after first visiting the toilet!