Faced with rainy street parties, we made our way to central London, which could only be described as Hell and a terrifying glimpse of the Olympics to come. We had an invite to a party, a dangerously genuine affair, offering again, a birds eye view onto everyone having a much worse time in the pouring rainy crowded streets. My advice now stands on royal affairs - take to the sky. Here's some postcards for you to send to any people you may know in the commonwealth.
Hatched-faced jubilee to one and all.
6 stolen chocolate mousses later and we were on the roof, allowing us a laugh at all the little people.
It's that time again. The British people, whipped into frenzy, display their talent for scaling previously unconsidered objects in their pursuit of a better view of a screen.
So it did reign, enough to ruin everyones cowie-buzz.
Fegan was his usual self, showing off about Chelsea and penalties, shouting about James Hewitt, stuffing his face..
And I think it's fair to say by the end of the proceedings I could tell Matthew Silcox and Abigale Jones were starting to feel rather tired by all the excitement.
So, I went and met up with Dylan Edge / Mortimer, (famous actor) and Ryan Siddal (tortured artist) ((both not pictured)) and got pissed. Until next time..
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