August 6 (Friday): King Of The Road. I awaken after a disturbed night due to the heat, emerging from the most disturbing of dreams. Where Chernobyl is situated in town is a very rough area. There is a weird couple that lives along one of the roads nearby (Alexandra Road) and they are just strange, I call them the Colchester Ian Huntley and Maxine Carr, hey something's due to happen sooner or later. The guy's name is "Carlos" and last summer I nearly came to blows with him in Smiths in town and ever since he has said "hello" to me for some crazed reason which is anything but let bygones be bygones. To be honest, I fucking hate the guy and yes he does scare, he is visibly. Anyways, recent rumour is that he had been dragged (unsurprisingly) away by the men in white coats to the laughing academy. He went missing for a few days (i.e. did not walk past our office half a dozen times a days) but unfortunately he re-emerged the other. His other half (who looks exactly like Valerie from HATE comic) has not been seen since he disappeared briefly. In my dream I find myself teaching her how to do bookkeeping and she is really nice and nervous and she is telling me how he does terrible things to her sexually and I’m like “grief�. I find myself moving some of my clothes in their wardrobe in their flat above the sex shop on Alexandra Road and inside there are no carpets and it is just a minor step up on the house from Trainspotting. When I go into the flat I find him in bed instead of at work almost as if he is waiting for me and he explains to me the situation, about putting his woman in her place and he comes over as a bigger nut than imaginable. I sense I am in danger. Dream over thankfully.

I spend the morning pre-work frantically tidying my flat, dad is coming round to mend the leaking pipe on my toilet again today and I just know the state of my home will be under judgement and scrutiny once more. I tear through the crib and wind up hiding the rubbish on the floor of my bedroom on my bed under the duvet. Pathetic. All in all though, time is of the essence and soon it is 8.20 and I really need to get ready for work. For a third day running, I am almost late.

Stevo doesn't turn up for work; we all guess that he is still ill. In Chernobyl it is sweltering but I manage to work hard as a kind of catch up for yesterday afternoon. Iran calls over the office and Sandip tells me that my "boss" wants me to go over and see him. That really rankles. Ultimately though I win, one of the bigger jobs in the firm has been brought and I did it last year and I'm getting to do it this year, this is a good job, the kind of job I wish I were working on all the time, it is rewarding and profitable. And if I can do an even better job this year, which is likely due to my familiarity with the client this year, it will score me points big time. Good stuff.

One downer on the day though, Phoebe does not reply to my email today. Tom however texts, asking me what I am doing tonight: "nothing planned". Ross emails back though confirming there is room at the inn for me tomorrow night. His party is so perfectly timed; I think it is just what I want to be doing this weekend and just what I need. He deserves an extra special gift. There is also now a girl from Wellington House that looks into our office (at me?) daily. It’s a pleasure not a chore, looking/smiling back. Also another blot on the landscape is Melchard giving me grief again (I’m becoming a whipping it seems) when he goes and points out I haven’t shaved today. Hey, I don’t go round pointing out he’s a “fucking cunt� so why does he feel permitted to do so to me.

At lunch I go round town with Lulu again. She is my new work bitch and she rules. We almost go for a sit down lunch together but I opt out, money worries. Lulu rules, she is everything and a lot of fun to be around. Today is the day I finally get my Relic Hunter DVD. I rule! We get dinner at Bounders/Bouncers and I get a Thai chicken panini with mango chutney and peppers. The shop heats it and we return to the office to eat lunch and this sandwich is the greatest thing I've had for lunch in months, it is utterly fantastic and I feel the desire to tell everyone and share. In a perfect world, all sandwiches would taste this good.

The afternoon is a complete grind, Chernobyl is the hottest hot house and I do fuck all in the way of work, although I do work a little on my dream job, instead I read this months Uncut and write up some of my Blog at work. One downer, Hotdog magazine is taking forever to come out this month; I fear/suspect it may be history. I find myself singing Drive By Shooting by Henry Rollins and First Big Weekend by Arab Strap to the annoyance of my workmates. I sit in Stevo's desk and do a bad impression of him which cracks up Sunny. Eventually the afternoon ends and I am dying for a drink, in a way I really wish I were going out but that's not really an option. This is the day in which I wished we still went to the Dragoon after work Fridays.

I stagger home and the (old) tunes on the radio are the greatest sounding things on earth, Degrees In Motion and Skee Lo, how old are they but how good do they sound? Half way up Layer Road a car stops and my neighbour (name unknown) picks me up and gives me a lift back to Hollytree Court. He’s cool and on the move out but it’s going slow. I hold my own but feel like a git, I could have lived without a lift.

I get into my flat to see just what damage dad has done. Not much and in the light of day my flat actually looks like it was left in ok nick by myself this morning. Dad has visibly been in but forgotten to take my washing. Nevermind. Hopefully now my pisser won’t be leaking and ruining my bathroom carpet.

Question: how the hell did I get on the NRA emailing list?

Tonight is a magnificent evening, nothing can get me down, I almost feel free and somehow there is nothing out there that can ruin in. Tonight is about being oneself in a style almost similar to Henry Miller. Freedom.

Dad gets in touch on MSN while I’m having a quick play on Playstation. Seems he hasn’t been successful in mending my toilet, he’ll be back tomorrow. My god my flat looks good, a little tidying and it’s a whole new world for Jason.

Tonight I see Queer Eye For A Straight Guy for the very first time. Top show, its like Would Like To Me for attached people without the patronising experts, instead the gay dudes are the funniest and seem to have more of a clue and better advice that I feel more inclined to listen to/take on board. Feel good TV, pretty moronic but feel good all the same.

Tonight is the final of Big Brother and sadly it is stay-in-for TV in my world, come Monday my whole circle will be talking about it. It’s horrible and weird but when this toilet tv is over there will be a gap in our routines, thankfully! First person to be voted out of the four tonight Shell. Nevermind. Second person out: Dan. Semi a surprise but good riddance. I would really like Jason to win just because the stock in the name Jason will go through the roof (and I realise how ridiculous that does sound) but realistically he doesn’t stand a fucking chance of winning. And he doesn’t. However in the post eviction interview he does display some degree of psychosis, avoiding eye contact with the camera and/or Davina. It is sweet that Nadia wins Big Brother but there is something really special needs about the whole thing/spectacle.

Fuck or bugger?

np: Arab Strap - The First Big Weekend