Not long back after dinner. In a brave cultural decision, I was out at TGI Friday's. However, unlike the TGI in Buchanan Street they don't have nice milkshakes and the staff don't pester you every five minutes until you have to threaten to press their novelty badges into their thumbs. I had some spaghetti and was actually really quite enjoying it, until I thought these meatballs are the dogs bollocks. I then lost my appetite.

I am going to have an interesting working week. My colleague Phil is off to run the tab at the big All Asians tournament that starts on Monday. In exchange, I get to cover Phil's classes at work and lose one of my days off. If only I had taken the deal when the banker offered. Bugger. So, while Phil and other folk I know are living it up, rhetorical style for a week, I will very likely grow more and more bitter as the days go by. As I whitter on about 'americanisation' to the little angels, I can fantasise about engaging in lively discourse with some lovely Asian ladies. “Oh, you noticed my tie did you, I got this tie while I was on the ESU national debates tour of the United States. Ah yes, I actually topped the team tab at the European debating championships. Europe is like Asia, but in a different place. I remind you of Sean Connery, oh everyone says that...” These kids has better behave this week, I'll have the patience of David Tait on steroids.

I had a night on the batter last evening and luckily managed to avoid getting completely black out rat arsed. The advantage of this is that I did not have a discussion with the toilet bowl this morning. The disadvantage is that I was sober enough to actually understand some of the conversations I had. With a young French guy who had no idea what I was talking about when I asked if he was a Royal or a Sarkozy supporter. He seemed genuinely amazed by the news that there was an election on at home. A weird, leering and misanthropic American who after learning I had a degree in Philosophy kept trying to steer the discussion towards existentialism, despite the fact I remember nothing about existentialism. Existentialism is ironically, usually a subject for conversation that makes me want to wish I was never born. When you are properly pissed, the most boring and inane banter feels like high tea with Oscar Wilde. Ah well, at least my liver did not try to be relocated to a battered womens shelter this morning.

BTW, absolutely nobody has left me any funny stories. You are all either a bunch of boring or selfish nincempoops.