Last night I met up with my mate, the one I was convinced had carked it some 5 years ago, in the Fox in town. We found a spot and stayed there all night, from day to dusk to night, catching up. The place swelled about us and we talked about the missing years and caught up. We left pissed and grabbed the tube. Bizarrely two of the girls in The Fox, not the usual fare of Suicide Girl-esque tats and tits type, were in the carriage in front and we had a conversation through the open window as the train roared through the pitch black of London rock, I cannot recall a word of the conversation but I remember that, after saying goodbye to my mate, he got off and as the train pulled away from the station he was running next to the carriage knocking on the window pointing down and crying ‘my bag, next stop!’

I alighted at Kennington aware that I was stumbling drunk and took a piss in the street. This state is purely down, ironically, to my having cut right back on my boozing, I just wasn’t used to 5 pints of lager. I called Myfwt who is still convalescing with Chicken Pox and received a message from my mate who was waiting for me, and his bag, at the next station. After a bunch of shit with lifts and platforms and what have you I ascended the stairs at Waterloo to a very anxious mate, 5 mins from his last train, and gave him back his bag. Needless to say he was rather chuffed.

The tube journey home passed in a flash, I sort of remember getting in and crashing onto my bed. I’d not eaten a bloody thing.

Mercifully it’s Friday, the office is strangely deserted and I have a few plans for the weekend to come. Tonight is clear though, I’m rather grateful for this because I’m not feeling Top of The Pops due to a mild hangover. I’m still surprised how such a relatively small quantity of booze has effected the day after. It makes me wonder how I was coping before when I was drinking more than, well, that.

I noticed that 40,000 US cunts have turned up to watch the fucking pope goosestep. Spurning the whole US policy of killing as many Arabs as possible I was slightly pleased to see that he is actually facing up to the (albeit easier) issue of sexual abuse of children in The Catholic community. All his has to do is look gormless and say ‘I’m sorry’ but he has at least acknowledged that his unpleasant religion is one of perverted lasciviousness, so it’s a good start. Nice pope.

Following the now almost non existent Friday list due to so many revolting Catholic-type peds/pervs out there I’ve something special, while the Dead Kenneyds sessions may be over (for the while) here is them playing live back in the day, the last song is as close as they got to a ballad, it’s dead pretty.

It remains for me to wish you all pleasant weekends, with the exception of those that arrive on here looking for images that, by rights, should instantly result in their being blinded, castrated and erected on a fucking pole.

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