Kristian MichailI’m at Andrew Tate’s mansion. The most polarising man in internet history. We are in his backyard. Hoards of fanboys follow him trying to befriend him. I can’t help but think how pathetic the idolisation is. Even my old business partner is there listening with intrigue. Someone who has zero tolerance for male chauvinism and misogyny. Tate is drinking a Coca-Cola in a plastic bottle. We get chatting and I tell him that I will get him a glass bottle instead. Because plastic is for peasants. I leave the pack of fanboys and I walk to a large green field of plush grass. There are soccer goals there. I begin shooting free-kicks. Hitting deadball after dead ball, top corner after top corner. A crowd gathers. Standing to the side is a naked woman. She throws me a ball for my next shot but it completely misses my direction. She didn’t miss on purpose, she just couldn’t throw very well. I walk up to her and say let’s get you back on purpose. She laughs aloud. Next second, we are getting it on in Andrew’s poolhouse. He walks in on me, winks and salutes me with his glass bottle of Coca-Cola. End of dream.