Man, it is rotten outside in London today! My jeans lapped up the puddles like hungry blue dogs. The central line's fucked, so I got lobbed off of the thing in Marble arch and got the bus in the wrong direction like a FOOL. Still. I am in the studio now with Emile and James Brahn and it is lovely. Just spoke to Adam Walton on the telephone, so you can gear that conversation tonight on his radio show - here now or here later. Adam is safe as funk, like most people called Adam.

I was reading the Independent on the bus, it's good on a Sunday again. Pirates, Blunketry. La Haine coming to life. What craziness. Emile's going to Paris tomorrow, which is pretty good timing. And stop emailing asking why I'm not talking about Becky Wade and Ross Chump. Fuck buying into that bullshit. All I'm saying, is it's the grossest bit of distractionary marketing I have ever come across. It is pathetic, and transparent like Casper. Real shit is going on, pay attention.


Mary is poorly. Get well Mary! I don't pray, but I'll think hard.