July 14 (Wednesday): In order to get to Norwich for nine to appease Drew I have to be up at six in order to be picked up at the office at seven. And this is even without a definite ride back to the office ("I'll drop you on the edge of the A12"). I wake up after a rest less night to discover a scratch on my left cheek, my right ear is not working and I appear to have been sleep typing on my PC during my sleep. I spent the night tossing and turning considering my career and how I may or may not have acquitted myself with the big boys. I even feel confident to the point that I have self belief in that I passed my exams in June.

Getting to the office for seven is really begrudging for me, to the point that when I pop into Chernobyl I accidentally on purpose set off the alarm just to kinda highlight/illustrate that nobody should be in the office at seven in the morning. I'm a prick to the end. Drew surprises when he is only ten minutes late in turning up.

Our ride to Norwich is ok until we actually reach Norwich. After stopping at a roadside greasy spoon for bacon rolls, we arrive at Norwich and it turns out Drew is ill-equipped, he only has Yell.com's piss poor directions and no actual map. We fuck around for a while (too long) and after Drew makes two phone calls to the client, she guides him in like an aircraft coming in to land. Ultimately our trip from Colchester to Norwich winds up taking nearly three hours!

Upon arrival the work is actually pretty straightforward on my part. Drew however seems to be having a hard time from the poker faced office manager (?) at the client who is nowhere near as approachable as she was last year. Suspicions are aroused that there is something to hide around this audit job. For a three hour trip there, we barely stay for two hours and soon we are headed back to Colchester. It all feels like a complete waste of time, ordinarily I would be unamused but the threat of dumping me on the edge of the A12 still hangs over me. Again for an entire road trip I manage to talk to Drew almost non-stop, he may say some outrageous things but at least he speaks.

My afternoon ultimately feels a bit of a washout, especially considering I have pretty much already clocked six hours of service for the firm by the time we arrive back for lunch. I tear into town to catch up with Stevo with the premise of going somewhere for lunch. I hook up with him in Waterstones, as Sunny said he'd be, but he has his head in a book and can't be budged, so I do my Wednesday routine of STILL buying the NME and head back to the office. As I head back to the office on my todd I bump into Kathryn Hicks which is a real shocker, not least because she stops to talk to me. She sounds like she is doing fine and still with the same old same old from Oxford. She tells me that she is thinking about getting into accountancy. I wouldn't. I'm in my suit and I look good so I am able to big up the fact that I have just had an interview on Bond Street, I actually begin to sound bigwig. I tell her that she should come and see me about being an accountant but that's not really a very good idea and she probably won't anyway. As we chat Stevo passes and he looks impressed (dirty old fucker).

Football in the evening is a hoot, we paste Birketts mainly due to the fact that their regular keeper Mike is absent. And fortunately it compensates for yet another nightmare on my part. Birketts freak me out a bit now, they have a Jake Gyllenhall player on their team, which I guess is kind of cool. At halftime the score is 8-4 and in the second half we really take over and win 23-14.

Afterwards myself and Stevo speed up the A12 to Chelmsford to see Fahrenheit 9/11. I drop Stevo off at his house to change and when he emerges he gives me a bag full of Panini Euro 2004 swopsies, fuck it's just like being 12 again. We get to the pictures early and Stevo doesn't want to hang around so he drags me into a place called The Bar just opposite the Chelmsford Odeon. Chelmsford is really nice, it is a long time since I have been in this section of town (riverside) and it all looks so fantastic, lots of places to go, albeit different versions of chains we have in Colchester and every other half decent town in England. The Bar is pretty nice too, very poncey and Stevo takes great issue with this, blaming the whole wine bar culture on women in pubs. I appears to be pining for places like the Rovers Return and Queen Vic.

Didn't have any tea tonight, so we feast on horribly overpriced cinema food. The spotty brown oik, thick enough to be working in an Odeon, gives me a little elocution lesson when I order nachos. I ask for "nahchos" and he goes blank and asks "nattchos?" Fuck off! Still, the hot creamy cheese dip and helapinas made it all worth the while.

Fahrenheit 9/11 the movie itself really pissed me off, like a fool I was expecting a work as interesting and entertaining as Bowling For Columbine with some satirical content. Instead, we got this droney dross which is actually pretty poor. It seems to me that Michael Moore has really gone out his way to nitpick and produce a product that appeals to his crowd anyway, who like sheep lap the fucking thing up tenfold. The content was not overly illuminating and it just seemed Moore is hitting home information the world already possesses but going to town on the facts including addresses and the like. Does the man think the mass majority of people currently think that Bush is a stand up guy and that he (Moore) is bursting our bubbles with his startling revelations? No, everyone is aware he is in there off the back of his daddy and his boy's club. Personally I just thought it was wrong the medium more than anything, this was/is television and to drag a person to a cinema to get bored out of their skulls is kinda arrogant. Moore seems on some kind of mission to startle people with this movie, unfortunately this is the world we live in with its enormous wrongs and imperfections that will always be in place and occur in one form or another and no pinko chest beating will tangibly change these things, they will only serve to stir up the vocal disgruntled. There's no cure for life. The actual highlight of the movie was when Phoebe texts to ask me how my day has been but I guess in the longview that does not count as a highlight for everybody.

After the show, I leave the cinema feeling like I want a fight/argument. I feel you can/should attach the emperors new clothes tag to this pile of donkey shite, to me it genuinely seems that Mr NWO A is into the movie because Mr NWO B has added it to his "list of cool". Stevo, who squirmed all the way through the movie is equally hacked off so we head to the closest pub, a place called The Nag's Head of all things. This ain't Peckham though. We talk shit about the film for thirty minutes whilst the punters watch poker on Sky Sports (pondlife). We leave and I drop Stevo off, far from his home, the home he is embarrassed of. I listen to Peel on the radio for the first time in literally years, nothing changes.

When I get home there is nish on tv so I pop on School Of Rock and immediately fall asleep to that.

np: Bloodhound Gang - Fire Water Burn