Status Updates From 4 a.m.

Arsenal v Parma - the European Cup Final. I was at that game. I wish it had been the European Cup Final, sadly it was the European Cup Winners Cup Final. A lesser, and now non-existent, competition.

It's a pillar. I've only been trying to make conversation with a pillar.

And the next thing we know Manny's leaning over the table, regurgitating strawberry milkshake, and me and Iain watch, boggle-eyed, as it rains down in undigested splatters over the Eccies and my untouched Big Mac meal.

I mean, what's with us? A mouldy fruit cocktail of drink-spikers, pill-munchers and girlfriend-stealers, Coke-heads, fuck-ups and prick-teases. It's like, if you put us under a microscope, you'd see a slimy crawling black stain that's getting out of hand, and you'd want to crush it with your thumb, just like that; take it out completely before it spreads any bigger.

A good night at The Tunnel then.

Hard for me not to draw comparisons with Irvine Welsh.