The dead hitchhiker in the back of the car has done nothing but flick my ears for the past two hours driving. I’m going to have to ditch her sooner than I would have liked. I was so looking forward to rifling through that rucksack and seeing how she worked bit by bit, but she wouldn’t fucking shut up! WAH WAH WAH WAH DEAD BITCH WAH! Get over it princess!

I really needed a piss and stopped off at the next service station. I asked her if she wanted anything but she wouldn’t give me a fucking straight answer, so I laboriously shimmied my Leatherman through her neck and carried the head into the shop so she could tell me exactly what she wanted.

A picture from Bedlam, taken today.

I have Journey playing on my iPod, a can of Monster in my hand and a heart that’s been kneed in the knackers. Here begins the Ipswich adventure.

Spot the dancer

The Bramfitt

Owen on a break

Pleasure’s Progress get-out.

And another (wonder why).

Redundant tattoo design.

It’s coming along nicely.