Keep your hands off dodgy pills, luv

Right, so we off on a blinder last Friday - that's Greg with his girl Anna, and Dean. Hitting Brixton again way too early (thank fuck there's still places that won't get busy before 11pm), and off for a couple of drinks at the Plan B.

Dean, our kiddo, heads downstairs for a wee and just before he necks one of his disco biscuits the loo guy spots him. To cut a long story short, Dean had to bribe him with 20 squid and comes back upstairs, fuming... What the loo guy didn't know - I used to drink with the bar manager after a little incident with one of my mates there. So I took the risk (he could have thrown us out, after all) and told him what happened. All he said: "he's sacked". Nice one, mate.

Had to leave for the Living Room a couple of doors further down the road. By that time I'd already gone through half of the wrap and necked two eggs, but there was more to come... Anna, good girl, started chatting to two blokes - another long story cut short: having a date this Saturday, well with one of them, that is. It's been a while (oh-oh, remember the last one, fucker, saw him on the way out exactly THAT night and he looked like he wished himself 500 miles away) I considered anyone being anywhere near of being considered... whatever. Boyfriend material. There, I said it!

Anyway. Managed to go home on my own (!), no drunken-and-eyes-rolling-back-and-nasty shag in the toilet (been there, done that...), just to get his first phone call the very same night at 7am. Awwww.

Note to myself: If I keep complaining that things don't change, maybe I should behave differently and everything around me will change with me.