Friday: Yet another work farewell. This ship is sinking rapidly, the wiser rats have long-since packed their bags, leaving only those of us motivated more by inertia than ambition. Very, very sorry to lose Karen and Tom. The former is going off to join Reed, the latter taking three months off to go snowboarding in Canada. Big, boozy party at fine bar The Adelaide, after which I really should have gone home.

Instead, I arranged to go to One Nation Under A Groove at 333 with Ian. It was all right, but I wasn't really in the mood. Allowed myself to get picked up by an Asian man who lives in Leytonstone. Well, it was cheaper than a cab home - I bring a whole new meaning to the phrase "cheap sex". Ahmed was clearly well-practised at this sort of thing: "horny" music on the stereo; porn on the TV; poppers, lube, Crisco, cockring (x2), dildo - all the regular accoutrements of irregular practises - laid out on the bedside pedestal.

Was dropped off at Leytonstone tube in the morning, and after wandering round Stratford and Tower Bridge in a post-drunk, pre-hangover, post-e, pre-comedown, post-shag, pre-cum state, decided to stop being silly and go home.

Saturday: Met up with the gang at a restaurant in Covent Garden. The sight of 12 skinheads in a fancy restaurant piqued the interest of an American who handed us a business card. His name: Barry Z, presenter of his own New York cable TV show. He said he'd love to do a feature on us!

Then to the Theatre Royal, to see The Witches of Eastwick, which was far, far better than I had thought it would be. This may have something to do with the fact that we were in the front row, exchanging meaningful looks with the cast and orchestra, or with the fact that certain cookies were handed along the front row as the show began, or with the three bottles of champagne that had been ordered as interval drinks. Showy queens, dontcha just love them?

After a few more drinks at Barcode, I decided to go to XXL. Why, I'm not sure. Where it was, I wasn't sure. What I did, I'm not willing to discuss here! I did, however, bump into a shamefaced guy who works on the same floor as me. Which is always nice. Once I left there, I put into action my usual cab-fare-avoidance policy. So, while I rambled on at length on my mobile to Ian, I made my way to Bloomsbury Square, and then to Comptons Café, and then to a flat in Camden.

Best thing that was said to me this weekend: from the boy in Camden, "I don't think I could take your cock, it's too big." Funniest thing I said this weekend, "Oh, come on, it's no bigger than a nice, fat shit."

Sunday: Stayed in. All day. And slept. All day. Started to watch "Heavenly Creatures" on TV, but fell asleep before it finished. If anyone can tell me how it ends, please do.