is that it?

so there we are then. i wrote a play, got drunk in the bar, and shagged the director. it was inevitable really. the funny thing is, it was amazing. john donnelly is amazing in bed. honestly, he's got pecs like an owl. a massive owl. a massive strong male owl.

better than that though, chloe moss wrote a blog entry. we all ended up at the groucho. with keith allen. and the bass player from the killers. and fearne cotton. and we had the biggest party and did the most coke anyone has ever done ever. and we talked about politics. and rubbed each other until we wanted to cry with the shame of how good it felt.

and then i went home. and went to bed. without cleaning my teeth or ANYTHING.

tomorrow i shall cure war. or famine. or make water cleaner. or find a new, sustainable environmentally friendly power source that will integrate all races and religions, and power my big car all at the same time. but right now i will drink cheap red wine. and smoke a cigarette. and eat a burger made from a horse i lost money on. and all of you, all of you, reading this now, will look up from your sad little lives, and see me in my penthouse on the thames, in my silk underpants, and my pecs, my pecs like an owl, dancing, dancing to the beat of the samba with my bose 5.1 soundsystem. and my director. and you will all want to be me.

and i. i with my comb. will look down on you. and i will laugh.

ha.

like that.

i will laugh at you. for i am king owl. and you are nothing.