Let our crowds be fed on/ Tear gas and plate glass/ 'Cause the people united / Is a wonderful thing...

Ran into Mr Matt Phare at the bar. Great to see him. He's looking like the bass player out of The Killers. JAYMAY's final night of the 12 Bar residency was ace but then most split for home but Carlos, myself, Jamie and her 'bro kept it staunch and headed to number 57 for valedictory drinks.

I plugged 16 shells from a thirty-ought-six/ And a Black Crow snuck through/ A hole in the sky...

Broke the big city Ju Ju early Sunday and hopped a train to Herne Bay. Wandered around a bit location hunting (one of the locals didn't like me camera in his grille) then arrived at the Perou compound. Canterbury farmers market full so we had the Roast Beef Of England over in Stodmarsh after high tailing it there CTU like across Kent in big black tactical SUVs. Very happy day and excellent to see everyone thriving down there. Sadly bad weather meant we had to cancel the planned messing about with shotguns back at the farm.

From Scapa Flow to Rotherhithe/ I felt the lapping of an ebbing tide...

Hooked up with Jamie James and French Leila to look at some old maps on Museum Street then over to London Bridge for excellent pasta with Stef, Jon and Keef. The stemless Brandy glasses came out again and Georgia kept telling us to keep the noise down.

This city is for strangers/ Like the sky is for the stars/ I think it's very dangerous if we don't take whats ours...

Trip canceled at literally the last minute so it was over to Perserverence Works on Kingsland Road for a shoot which I had no involvement with the commisioning of yet found myself directing. It was a tough gig. Still it was good to see Mr James Mountford etc. Feeling a little frazzeled and slightly lonely. Moldova is go! I must stop this Broken Flowers/ My Name Is Earl bullshit that has been totally doing my head in.

Do you know what'd be handy?/ A little glass of brandy/ Now I'm skankin with BIG chest Mandy..

Some cold looking and slightly depressed chicks brought us some bad pizza for lunch. Met Darren Bayeux (hugs not drugs!) and dailytitlow at a brown pub then onto ill-advised drinks at the bar ("Groundhog Day meets Event Horizon" as Mr Robin Turner put it) suitability charged up we then hit the Apple store and dailytitlow got himself an ipod touch. He's an early adaptor. Pizza was then purchased at the strangely empty and post-apocalyptic Oxford St M&S.

Darling I, I seen demons dancing, I seen demons dancing/ Across these factory floors..

A night with the old school guvnors watching J Ol's new great white hope The Coorteeners (?) A definate vibe of big things to come in the air (for them and maybe for me)

In the bloody elevator going to the bright theatre now/ Come on boys/ Please let me taste the clean dirt in my lungs/ And moss on my back..

It's that Calender time of year again. The V.I.P Party Boys played the bar last night. Mr Jolly Jenkins, Ms Lucy Bright and dailytilow were in the house for JAYMAY and all loved it. There is a skull theme developing on this diary (check out http://www.skulladay.com) the festival of the dead's a coming! Facebook is more like voodoo than software. It brings back dead people.

I'll get a guitar/ And a lover who pays me/ If I can't be a star I won't get out of bed..

The ghost sent me this pic the other day. It's me ten years ago in her magical red kitchen in Lancaster Rd W11 at the height of the Brit Pop wars.

Everything is exactly right/ When I walk around here drunk every night/ With an open container from 7-11/ In St. Ides Heaven...

Took the bendy 73 over to Stoke Newington Sunday. Had a smooth hazy night on a gentle red wine and pizza glidescope towards a nice soft landing.

In every second car that passes theres a man like him/ At ease in the world of television and magazines....

Found myself once again drawn back around the way to Portobello in order to get my hair cut by Michael the Greek. It's the only place a white boy can get his locks trimmed for less than a tenner while talking about Formula One.

I smoke the bead and the skunk, tree top of the trunk/ Moonshine drunken monk, YaHEAD get shrunk...

Fish finger sandwiches with Mr Hamish Brown at the bar (currently driving an Audi RS4 since you ask Robbo). Beer 'O Clock at the office then over to W Helleven for Sian's birthday party. Mojitos were interuppted by telecommunications from further out west. Met a Russian Princess at Baker Street who was wearing a Mink coat and we discussed photography.

How are things on the west coast?/ I hear you're moving real fine...

On the dog with Cam in Hollyweird all day. In a blast from the past Shack played at The Hospital (the ponce media whore palace, not the A+E Dept Mick Head the singer is more familiar with) then more silliness at the Burlington Club at the Intersection party with dailytitlow.