Just one word - vile.

Why is it that at every fucking party we go to we are always the most outrageous and also the last ones standing even though we don't usually do any drugs? It's scary.

Helen and I were up for 25 hours yesterday and I am feeling it now although I've been napping all day.

There were some very wierd people there last night - Spent most of the night talking to a tranny who told me his relationship was dead and he was completely trapped. Felt bad for him and also his girlfriend who was sat quite near us at the time. Then I chatted to the most depressing man on earth, this guy called Rory - a clinical psychologist who told me he harboured absolutely no compassion for humanity. I nearly cried at that point so I stumbled off to dance.

About 9am, we all went for breakfast in my favourite greasy spoon in Vauxhall (thanks Hels). After that we got the tube home and Helen told a little kid that rats had eaten her feet and that's why they were bleeding.