get back jojo
had 4.5hrs sleep.
breakfast on goldhawk road in a greasy spoon (the glamour)
dodged dodgy reviews of last nights show, all day.
i don't take compliments very well but there's been plenty of positive feedback.
i wish the haters would say shit to my face rather than write it online or in a newspaper.
i reckon most wouldn't have the bottle.
i amuse myself with the twitter feeds (which pick up all mentions of 'perou' and 'dirty sexy things'): still pretending to be a stockbroker.
if only i could make money out of this constant stream of all our verbal diarrhea.
had good meeting a levis and another at q magazine.
stopped into soho house to discuss my behaviour / the 'incident' last night.
and because i'd walked out without paying my bill yesterday.
big props to joe at SH: always been a diplomat and a gentleman: respect.
had lunch with harry harold in polpo on beak street: a delightful italian.
and discussed jobs in tv development.
the pitch to hit ratio of 500:1 would just kill me: it might be the worse job in the world?
harry likes it though.
RTF.
had to double dose redbull: one was not enough to get me home.
now got the redbull shakes :(
bit into a blackcurrant chewitt driving round the m25 and immediately displaced a heavy gold crown.
this is the smelliest piece of metal i have ever smelled.
didn't used to stink when it was stuck in my mouth but now i can smell it from across the room: it's so disgusting.
a curious piece of metal with magical smell retaining properties: WTF?
i'm not wearing lipstick.
what's with disqus comments?
you make 'em, they're there but they don't show up in the cunt count.
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