And so it was, they brought forth the beer festival and the hoardes did come. What a genius idea and one that I couldn't allow myself to miss. I mean I know it's on until Saturday night (The Ealing Beer Festival - http://www.beeronbroadway.org.uk/ ), but I had to check it out a.s.a.p. However, the a.s.a.p. turned into late yesterday evening, we didn't get there until 9pm and as it was closing at 11 I decided to get my money's worth.

Somehow, after caining a dozen or so half pints (I know, I'm ashamed) I found my head spinning (might have something to do with what I smoked on the way there) and my stomach purging. I got into work half an hour late and smelling of beer (no time for a shower, I'm digusting). Fortunately, my meeting was put off until after lunch, so I had time to wake up and get some food in me. At lunch we had a £1 crap shoot (or turbo as they're otherwise known). Wanting to get a quick start I reraised all in with A-Ko, my first premium hand in what feels like weeks. Needless to say I was called by the Iceman's pocket tens and I lost the race. Big stakes, big losses.

I was then given a proper workie's job. In the style of Sir Alan, Dave sent me on an errand to get some trackie bottoms. Walking down Oxford St with a mission I almost felt like a tit off tv. Minus the cameras I can only assume that that means that I'm just a tit. Mission accomplished, I got on with my real work tasks, and less hungover managed to have a decent chat with the publisher. Job's a good-un.