Another week, another strip. No one could ever accuse me of not playing to the crowd!
The old bonce is throbbing today, following a shindig in the Village last night. It was one of those 'significant birthday' bashes where you peer at someone you haven't seen for ten years, who looks vaguely recognisable apart from Hammer's make-up department having run riot on their physog in the intervening period, and struggle to put a name to the wizened face. Naturally I took the easy way out by gulping down a couple of bottles of fizz in quick order, then passing out in the cab on the way back to the old Chelsea pied a terre.
Snoozing under the goose down doona this morning, my nightmare about tempus fugiting was rudely interrupted by the postman delivering a parcel from Australia. Inside was a DVD of Mr Ceaucescu (no relation)'s latest masterpiece, Dodgy Didgy Gang Bang. Having watched the first few minutes, I can assure you it's not for the fainthearted. The disc was accompanied by a note from the auteur himself saying he's hooked up with my old chum Jimmy Wicket the Human Tripod for his next epic, working title Wankenstein's Monster. Apparently he's already got the funding in place!