Signs of a bad huangover (too much saki) (no. 194 in a continuing series of alcoholic diasters) : Putting instant coffee in my filter coffee. Eesh.

Every day I hurry on the way to my perceived work past what Les Routiers (Levenshulme’s premier chip gourmand) shurely must call ‘Bath’s finest eating establishment’; McDonald’s. And every night I stroll back past, and think “I could really do with soaking my heart in a big hunk of fat.” This, despite what I’ve read…

too many thoughts, not enough sleep. Article title “How can you be pregnant and stylish?” in the increasingly small c conservative Guardian – how can you be so fatuous yet run the country’s media, and be the progenitor of the next generation of that bubbleheaded capital elite? Drives me to tears, I tell ya.