October 23 (Saturday): Drug Lord. I awaken around 9AM with a caning headache, so I may have well got pissed last night. Not long after I begin to murmur achingly, Richard (Acton) his me on MSN telling me how hungover he himself is.

Today is supposed to be about study but it doesn’t really happen. I do however receive a sign/message when the postman knocks on my door and hands me more study material from the BPP for my exams. Double whammy though, it is Rob who was working in the Butt Road sex/porno shop until recently. I say “hi” and ask why he isn’t still working there. He is coy and said it just didn’t work out. But I don’t want this guy as my postman, now knowing where I live!

Today is Millwall v Cardiff and I find myself considering going, if not least just to say that I survived the Soul Crew visit. The day starts out with the sun of the past few days but soon it goes in and the weather scares me off going up to Bermondsey. I guess this makes me a fairweather supporter in the literal sense. By the time I go out and do the newspaper run however the heavens have ripped open and it is royally pissing down. One bonus though, the person at the Layer Road paper shop undercharges, which is much welcome in these times of financial uncertainty and semi-destitution.

Avoiding doing study or anything useful for that matter, I find myself on the Playstation 2 again, being Millwall running riot in the Championship (once of course I get into my stride). A long session of soccer only gets disrupted by a little unwelcome cold calling.

The afternoon happens, just really encompassing listening to the football on internet radio. Millwall wind up drawing 2-2 with Cardiff after trailing both times to Cardiff’s goals, with Tessem scoring the first and Harris scoring the equalizer equalling Teddy Sheringham’s all time Millwall scoring record.

With dinner time looming, I perform the very healthy option of popping out to the chip shop on North Station Road. Usually when do this, it is generally a sign of me feeling sorry for myself. That and/or me being very hungry and having no food in my flat.

When I get and after I eat up I begin reading Kingdom Of Fear by Hunter S. Thompson which is really good but not very good on the head when you have a raging headache. From there I hop to higher level of cultural experience by watching Godzilla v Megalon which I have downloaded off the internet. I have to admit, I actually watch an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000 where they are ripping the piss out of the movie and I haven’t found myself laughing so much in absolutely ages. Cheers me up.

Evening hits with full swing and for some reason Channel Four are showing K-Pax which has always looked the oddest movie to me and indeed proves so, Spacey really hamming/camping it up, he must have just been for a walk in a park or something. Either way, it sends me to sleep, closing the coffin on another thrilling Saturday night for Jason (Saturdays are for couples anyway). I do wake up later on, in the early hours to discover Jonathan Ross interviewing a rather perky Ringo Starr who actually comes over as likeable and interesting whilst hawking a book of postcards the other Beatles sent to him in the sixties, which in my opinion really is scraping the barrel and taking the piss out of your fanbase. From there Jonathan Ross skips to Nick Cave where he and the Bad Seeds perform Nature Boy on a very mainstream talk show. Nick Cave looks pretty fucked these days and its all down to his terrible choice of hairstyle, a seeming attempt to try and keep things long but losing the war as he goes thin on top. Early hours channel surfing sees me coming across Scum starring the entire cast of The Bill and Only Fools And Horses when they were teachers with Ray Winstone not looking cool or solid. That ends with me wishing I hadn’t bothered to watch any of it and I slap on the remainder of my Book Group DVD and surprisingly thoroughly enjoying it before falling asleep before the ultimate failure of late night Saturday/early morning Sunday TV, the repeat of Countdown (at which point you generally find yourself watching just in the hope that Carol is wearing something semi sexy so that you can bash one out).

np: Dizzie Gillispie – Oh, Lady Be Good