My word. I am an absolutely disgraceful Slutmonkey. Duck pancakes have ruined any chances of spiritual progress this week.

Since I last wrote, Helen and I have been recklessly indulging in the pleasures of the flesh and have given in to every carnal desire in a depraved and shameless manner.

It is no way to exist long term, but it has been much fun and has involved the following-

Polo players, guns and clockwork mice.

Bedrock (Of course)

Random bitery.

Shaking the cage to frighten Jamie and him liking it (?!?)

Feathercuts. Actually was the same one as a couple of weeks ago. Was looking like he could be a regular fixture until he told me that his favourite film is the Exorcist. It could never work, am not going to see (shag) him again. Also he (we) broke my beautiful bed.

3 stand up comedians and a dog called Sandy

Consumption of soap-beer cocktails at 4am, mmmm.

Contemporary dance pieces which comment on the racial tensions between African and Jamaican men in an unnecessarily horny manner.

Finding a beast in our garden. It is trying to burrow it’s way into our house through a vent into the basement.

Sunny, the UKs finest male Belly Dancer.

Little Chris roaring over incredibly loud punk rock about his dead, deported girlfriend’s hanky (again) while we sniggered uncontrollably. I think we may be off his guestlist forever.

Spending 8 hrs in bed together eating, laughing and being weird.

Texts from men that say – “I thought you were cool & sexy but u’ve used me. I’m not just a piece of meat I’m a loving human bean.”

Excessive consumption of everything we encounter. Like pacman but more disgusting.

The result of this depravity is, essentially, that Helen’s bedsheets are covered in seaweed and szechuan sauce, we have sore throats, there are fag ends in the snug and both our beds are completely broken (mine is tied together with string and propped up by a small table) along with some young men’s hearts.

We should never be left alone together in the house again for more than an hour.