It seems this endeavour has got off to an unambitious start. Yesterday, I sat down to devote an hour or so to this blog - but because I'd spent the whole day reading other blogs for ideas, I had nothing to say. And that was a bit depressing: in a record of my strange and barely believable life, it seemed a bit anticlimactic to begin with 'today I recorded my life on the internet, rather than go anywhere, do anything, or see anyone'.

So what's the solution? Well, I decided to go out drinking with my good friend Derek - and hope that that would provide some squalid entertainment. We went to a bar called 'The Spangles', which played some techno-industrial-trance tracks and has a DIY theme (it served cocktails like 'Hammer & Chisel' and 'Slow Tap and Screw'). To be honest I was a bit dubious - the people wore artfully distressed dungarees and luminous hard hats and were talking about plumbing techniques and carpentry. I felt a bit uncomfortable - I'd decided to wear a tweed suit - frankly inappropriate in the circumstances, especially since the place was much too warm for my liking. Even so, sweating disgustingly, I braved the gauntlet of hostile looks and dodgy dancing to order some beers.

This proved to be a mistake, not least because Derek became seriously intoxicated very quickly - a poor effort for a place which thrived on a hard-drinking manly atmosphere. I was quite alarmed - and scolded him for his lack of self-retraint: 'What's wrong with you', I shrieked 'Look at yourself! You're a mess! It's those tablets, isn't it? Look, I 've told you - normal people go to the doctor - they don't buy 'alternative remedy self-acupuncture' sets from people on the Underground!' My hysteria attracted comment from the regulars, and I took the chance to lecture them on the wonders of modern science - which they seemed to find unengaging.

Derek incapacitated, I soon fell into conversation with a Ukranian former pig-farmer called Vladimir. We drank vodka, and he talked endlessly about shelving-units and round-head nails. It was all a bit too much, and I felt myself on the brink of desperation. I escaped by announcing that I had to visit the grocers- which probably seemed bit unconvincing given that it was 2:00AM. But Vladimir was indifferent, drunkenly blathering about how IKEA had ruined the 'art' of 'golden age' DIY (An intriguing thought - has there been a Silver Age, or a Dark Age of DIY?). Eventually, I pushed Vladimir off his bar stool, and ran out before he could reorientate himself. The doormen were amused, but told me that Vladimir was an undercover cop and would have me arrested. This I thought unlikely, but panicked for several minutes anyway, running around frenziedly in the street. Frenzy over, I headed home - temporarily forgetting about Derek. But then I remembered the evening in Ibiza in 1985, where I abandoned him in strangely similar circumstances. And aside from the minor burns, that ended happily enough.