And what have you done? Nothing. Did you miss me? No. How I hate you all, you and your foibles. Spent some time drinking on Thursday evening. Just a little pint, then a cycle home. Decided that perhaps it had affected me adversely when I bounced off a couple of wing mirrors, but then decided as everyone tried to murder me on the way in on Friday that no, it’s just the weather. What is it with motorists and weather? If it’s overcast and dull then they’re fine, but as soon as it either rains or gets sunny they turn into bastards. They take more chances, drive faster, give you less room, get more irate. It’s annoying. The person limping off the road by the George, as people collected bits of his motorbike up and dragged it off the road as I cycled past, would probably agree with me I think. And just as bad are the summer fucking cyclists, all flocking to the left of the road to stop any driver at a junction managing to turn left when the lights change. Wobbling about, cruising through red lights and nearly getting themselves killed just because they’ve seen a courier do it. Stopping at the slightest hint of a car and slowing the rest of us right down. Unable to cycle past stationary cars on the left. Incapable of any kind of speed away from junctions. Grr! I’ve put in a request for it to be overcast Mon-Fri, 8:30-9am and 5:30-6:30pm. I’ve also put in a request for some guns. Hopefully one of the two will appear before I go home tonight. Got into work on Friday to discover my boss and half of the account team looking a little worse for wear. Apparently, their “quick one after work” had morphed into “being shitfaced at 4am in a club”. So very little was done by anyone on Friday, cept us sober ones. Oh the humour! Had 3 pints after work and then headed home via Iceland and buy-one-get-one-free Fosters ( ) No summer cyclists, thankfully they all leave their bikes at home on Fridays so they can get shitfaced and attempt to breed in Soho nighteries and boudoirs, so I got home in almost record time. Possibly. Possibly not, might just have been the beer. Don’t think I’ll be doing 3.5 pints then cycling again in a hurry... Arrived back at chez me — mogs was smiling, which is a rare enough occurance indeed, but I believe it was simply explained by there being cans of bitter in the flat too. Complete with Bodettes or whatever it was they called them. Empty cans. The Bodettes. Sounds like a black soul group from the 60s. We decided after not-much-pondering-at-all that we should go to the Swan. “I would LOVE to go to the Swan”, enthused Mogs, much to my surprise, as the bar in question is actually outside of the flat. Effused even. It was a little disturbing. The Swan’s not THAT good Mogs attempted to pull someone on thingbox to play with whilst there, for once he succeeded rather admirably, although I’ve still not convinced the guy in question to join here yet. (Tort? Tork? I’m shit with names, although I’m pretty sure Lloyd will appear momentarily and correct me and make me feel dumb). So we got to the Swan, which was immensely dead. Drank some beer. I sat on Mogs until he bought me a pint (\ö/) and we nattered. Then Tork arrived and we generally had a good time talking bollocks about stuff, notwithstanding the crapness of the other people in the bar. He told us about his amazing sounding clubnight, ÜberThursday, which we’re all going to go to, and we generally chatted about music and film and stuff for a bit until the alcohol rendered us speech incompatible. Invited Lloyd after he finished work as I owed him some moneh and stuff. Plus I’d not seen him all week and needed to rant. There was a Kylie impersonator or something on...too tall. But things were pretty blurry by that time and I was getting pretty tired so I announced I was gonna head home. Much to my surprise everyone else was just as bored as me so we went back in a shiny cab via the dodgy offy so those<