I have vivid dreams. In the most recent mad one, I was parachuted out of an Easy Jet flight - no mean feat - they tried to charge for kicking me off.

I landed in the scene of Woody Allen's 2011 movie, Midnight in Paris only to be patronised by Hemingway on my sentence structure then slaughtered by Gertrude Stein for lack of plot.

Sitting in the corner hatching schemes and insulting all and sundry was a bitter and irritated Gordon Brown in the midst of some very detailed and convoluted discussion. What was he doing here? Not in the Woody Allen film; in my dreams?

I don't want to get all Sigmund Freud or engage in the study of dreams, oneirology for Scrabble players, but it raised two really important issues. One; clearly I was in need of a holiday. Two, why am I having dreams about politics when I have so many other dirtier avenues and alleyways to pull from the filing cabinet that is my unconscious sordid little mind?

It was uncanny, then like a sign from the comedy gods, Gordon Brown's big droopy phizog appears in the papers with yet another political resurrection. Yes he's plotting his return on the back of the Better Together campaign. Some aren't too fussed, they say it's only politics. I'm old school, I say earn the right, show up in Westminster and represent your constituents rather than jumping aboard the well oiled concerted media campaign.

Brown was joining in with the eternal blitzing. One that started with Osborne speaking in Edinburgh a few weeks ago right up to this morning with Danny Alexander battering in to reaffirm a no to currency union. In between there's been an endless almost synchronised barrage.

Grab your helmet, here they come. There were the banks, Shell boss the Dutchman Ben van Beurden he chipped in. Adding to BP's boss, the American Bob Dudley (who got his degree from that Ivy League seat of learning The Thunderbird School of Global Management. I didn't know there was a Thunderbird school, I'd have applied for that myself as a fan of both the TV show and the potent bevy).

He also has a name that makes me sing Hey Bo Diddley every time I hear it. 'Hey Bob Dudley dunkadunkadunk dada dunk. Then you have Standard Life and Aggreko came in too with the aggro. All have said they would think that it would be a bad idea for Scotland to be independent

What gets me is the tone. As though Scotland is a badly behaved adolescent being placed on the naughty step. A militant student cobbling a manifesto together down the pub. It's too momentous to be trivialised by Brown's return from the political wilderness, a Dutchman or a Yank from Thunderbird School.

Honestly you'd think it was a time for financial results and annual reports requiring all these businesses to report any possible risks.

Colin and Christine Weir who won £161 million on the Euro lotto thing for greedy people have kindly donated to the Independence campaign a seven figure sum. I'm glad they did it on Monday, they would've been too busy the next day, it was pancake Tuesday. It's another quiet victory for the Yes Campaign. Nearly 2.5 million in the coffers for a full-on blitz come May 30th the official start of the campaign season.

My cleaner & spy Big Jean faxed through info found in the wastepaper basket of the Better Together campaign meeting. In bold writing it read 'Weir Doomed'. In public, Better Together keep a united front and deny any financial crisis. Big Jean said they looked apoplectic she didn't say that I said that to make her sound more clever, as they worked out the cost of advertising. Something she claims Yes Scotland have enough for a bumper advertising campaign that Scotland will never have seen the like of. She claimed everyone one in Scotland who votes yes, will also receive a double nugget from the ice cream man.