Patisserie Valerie is a lovely place to sit and think.

And where a fellow can stuff his face full of whipped cream, strawberries and french cake, whilst mulling over the utter bloody fucking mess that is his lovelife.


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Dearest Planner,

If it wasn't for the fact that my entire life is filled with a mass of illegal activities, and that I don't really desire to become a Wanted Man in my own country and therefore have to leave my perfectly lovely apartment for the rest of time... i'd go to see a Shrink.

I quite possibly need to.

Right now its just gone 4am, and Robert ( Read more... )

Hello, Word Document ( Read more... )

Dear Diary/Planner/Whatever you are,

Bloody Hell.

It never rains but it pours?

For weeks there was nothing to do, I was twiddling my thumbs and passing the time on complete nothingness. And now I feel like one of those bloody suited & booted types down Canary Wharf, needing a Blackberry and a Personal Assistant.

• Arthur has been and gone. (DO NOT WANT ( Read more... )

Shit. Bloody hell. Fuck ( Read more... )