Carol cooked rabbit stew last night and I lit a huge fire. Too huge. I love lighting fires. Do you remember the particularly scary fire I lit at Caroline Conran’s haunted house Bettiscombe Manor in Dorset? That amazingly beautiful house known as the house of the screaming scull.
There is a skull in the attic that must never leave the house..ever.
I was so scared by the ghosts at night I crawled into another guests bed with him in it.
Anyway, I built such a huge fire at Bettiscombe I nearly burned the place down. That could have been a very embarrassing weekend. They all went for a walk and I dragged logs from the stable into the great hall and set them alight. Bad move.
Lunch with Charlie at the Ivy Club. Beautiful man sitting with his parents admired my new hair cut. Gave me his number. Wait for the wound to heal before we go down that route.
Bumped into Michael White. Has he has a stroke?
Charlie really likes the film. Everybody seems to.
We discussed Obama, he thought that I was being too tough on him. Really?
Now we need to make the bloody film.
Dog took a huge dump in Greek Street. No bags. I ran away. Bad dog owner. Lingers on my conscience.
Really enjoying being here. Love the snow. Saw my friend Jess for breakfast. Had my hair shaved and beard trimmed in Soho. Same guy who cut it this summer.
I love listening to BBC Radio 4 whilst driving. The languid newsmen and women, the snippy new conservative politicians as eager as hungry rodents. They want to change everything. ‘Fix’ everything from higher education fees to alcohol consumption.
Let’s imagine a world where the chronically inebriated are charged for all expenses incurred when arrested or injured due to drinking/drugging.
If these drunken liggers had to pay money for time spent unnecessarily in emergency rooms or police cells, pay for hospital staff or expensive police overtime you’d see an immediate shift away from the sort of hard-drinking, thuggish Friday/Saturday night behaviour this government and the rest of us wants stamping on hard asap.
Slags sliding around in stilettos in their own vomit. Breaking their ankles.
PAY FOR IT!
Slags and Chavs.
The drive to London through heavy snow and the equally treacherous drive home totally exhausted me. I probably shouldn’t be so eager to be this energetic.
The drive over snowy Black Heath was particularly beautiful.
Hey, I want you to know a few things about me: I am charismatic, invincible, intelligent, creative, sophisticated, handsome, sensitive and the polar opposite of all the above.