we. are. your friends.

A visit to Trash with Jackie Boom Boom and my sister was preceded by buying a four quid bottle of vodka in Holborn Sainsburys then sitting on a stoop and sharing the vodka three ways between us, into bottles of coke. A classy start to my first foray into the London scene…

Security seems much tighter than NY – my bag got searched and my hipflask confiscated [bastards!] – although I was allowed to pick it up at the end of the night. We headed downstairs to the bar. My sister’s first comment to me: “Oh my god, I’m so… Abercrombie & Fitch compared to everyone else!”

Bricolage played a set. My sister tried to con drinks out of people [surprisingly successfully, I might add…] Two different kids I started talking to also turned out to be Misshapes regulars. The place got so fucking smoky [a mixture of cigarettes and, apparently, a smoke machine. How 1990s of them.] you couldn’t see more than a foot in front of you at one point.

We left just before three, before the place shut. Jackie headed to the Camden-bound night bus with some kids while Fi and I wandered aimlessly around the West End, more or less heading for our night bus stop, but stopping for madam to get chips and pitta and talk to men in tuxedos. As we were waiting for the bus in Trafalgar Square [dawn just breaking, the first rays of daylight slowly climbing down Nelson’s Column] we ran into a guy we’d been talking to earlier. We ended up doing the music writer chat thing. He kept stealing Fi’s ketchup for his own chips and started singing the Simian vs Justice tune for us, until the N9 turned up.