Quick re-cap.

Last saturday I hang with Chris all day, mainly mocking him for pulling an apparent schoolgirl at the Gigantic club. And then sod's law when we go to town we see her and then the fucking pikeys. The day is a labour and it's a mutual decision not to venture out that evening

Sunday I go home to my parents and fall off the Atkins royally by eating a roast dinner. Mother pumps me with guilt for not drinking the Dr Pepper you puts out for me ("are you ill?"). I then discover they have lent my Phoenix Nights to their pikey friends and get on a childish strop.

Monday I go to London Moorgate for my penultimate ACCA Advanced Tax course. I am now officially very worried about my course and the exam in June. No one in my group appears to be from the NFL though (big companies). Actually most of them do not appear to be from this country. In the evening it is Skittles' birthday. And Tom is back, sadly because his granddad has just passed away. Chris drags the three of us to the Hole In The Wall (aka Bumhole In The Wall and quickly becoming the Hell In The Wall). There I feel as popular as a dose of the clap. And is at his happiest there either. Fucking people, so ignorant whilst also so pikey (my new favourite word/term as you can probably guess). Maverick turns up and is wearing a homemade t-shirt stating "Life Not Labels", the guy is hilarious. Me and Tom would have liked to have gone somewhere else but it being pound a pint night, Chris was loving it, he was getting pissed and getting the time of day from the uber-clique. Oh well, nevermind. It ended. I wanted to rush home to watch The Last Supper on tv. I rushed too much had a speed camera flash me. Hope not too flash though.



Tuesday: I go into work in my new suit and look mighty fine, I may not be the part but I look the part. Mucho busy at work due to the senility of Dr Who (embrace the senile genius, watch him re-invent the wheel). All in all in equates to me working late like an idiot. Dr Stevo catches me working late and suggests we go to Millwall, him driving. CANNOT SAY NO! We get to the Den late, go through the turnstiles just as Danny Dicihio is popping in a header to make it Millwall 1 Watford 0. The Den is pretty packed (although the attendence doesn't reflect this). Eventually though Millwall choke and lose 2-1. In the second half they are terrible and without booze its hard to get aggressive over losing (actually the first time this season I have seen them lose). On the way home Stevo stops by docklands to look at a place a client (Hughes Finishings) has just done. The complex is amazing, right on the river and really close to Canary Wharf. As we leave London we drive right past the HSBC building, the Bank Of America building etc. Those buildings are awe-inspiring, they look like the future now to me. this is the real, the major leagues, I can only dream of being here. Or maybe......

Wednesday. Not much to report. At lunch Azmei is at her best for weeks and we go round town and see the infamous Jim Jepps. I tell her I used to live with that fanatic and she doesn't believe my words, adding "I bet we see someone you used to go to nursey with next". And we do, it's Peter Rogers one of my many ex-best friends. I don't say hello, he has a pony tale and crap beard and looks grubby. And I feel ill anyways (Atkins is poison). When I get back to the office I die on the toilet for 20 minutes. I'm not proud.

Thursday and I act like a whore again with regards to Dr Stevo. I say I can't afford to go to lunch so he gives me £22 he reckons he still owes me. So I comply and go to Nandos with him. It makes me ill. In the afternoon Lindsey comes over to Chernobyl and I haven't spoke to her since February 12 when she blew me out. The room is super silent and very uncomfortable. And then I fall ill and go to the toilet for half an hour, so long that she probably thinks I am masturbating. How embarassing. Regardless I go into the session with the good doctor in the evening with good heart and begin to reminisce over the past again, memories are beginning to flood back, albeit more confused and muddled than ever.

Friday (daytime). Still busy at work and beginning to fuck up with regards to meeting deadlines. Everything falls apart early afternoon though when Dr Who calls me into his office and picks holes and rips two of my jobs to shreads. I didn't think they were very good but that's more to do with the supply of information. Not so according to the Dr though. I'm left feeling like an idiot, somewhat humiliated but very worried about a knock on effect of an undue doubt in my capabilities from an old man losing it. It's all bad. In the evening I am supposed to go out but don't want to. Chris pushes hard though and I do......