Celebrity Drugtakers.

Yesterday I saw the least likely thing I thought possible at Lewisham's Woodlands Health Centre. I went there to pick up a letter that Muki had to take to Lewisham Hospital and if you had told me that Porny the Raping Unicorn was in there kicking pictures of Neil Diamond into a barrel I couldn't have been as surprised as the thing I actually did see when I walked through the door. Woodlands Health Centre is a general meeting place for deeply angry, heavily tattooed, shouting mothers who have to carry their babies because the baby-buggy they also have to wheel around is full of cigarette ash. It's a fucking hole, in other words. It was certainly not the kind of place you'd expect to see the sort of thing that I saw while there yesterday. You see, the thing that I saw there was Lenny Kravitz.

Now, I can't be 100% sure it was him but I'm really not sure that it wasn't. Maybe it's another sign of my senility but the man looked like Lenny Kravitz, he had an American accent and he dressed like a camp bollock. I was trying very hard to hear what he came in for. I know it was a prescription but I don't know what for. I'm assuming talent pills. I know you probably think I'm joshing about a man who looked a little bit like Lenny Kravitz but this guy was his fucking double, so much so that I'd say I'm 90% sure it was him. Lenny Kravitz, rock star, picking up his NHS prescription from a health centre in Lewisham. It's the most rebellious thing he's ever done. I now like to think that when he sings Are You Gonna Go My Way? that his way is Lewisham.

Then I escorted Muki to Lewisham Hospital for tests to start the next part of her treatment. In there I realised how tough it must be for famous people when they have to wait in an NHS waiting room. I mean they come along just like any of us to be treated equally but as soon as their big, fat, famous name gets called out everyone stares at them, not giving our beloved celebrities the space they need and deserve in their private lives. I realised this while overhearing the name Rose West being called. That woman really didn't want to stand up and take her turn but did so in a way that said "See? I'm not even her". Lenny and Rose in one day! Brilliant! All I'm saying is that hospitals and health centres are THE place for our A-List celebs to hang out and be outrageous. Heat Magazine is wasting it's time going to Nobo or freezing their balls off outside The Ivy. I'm going to go to the hospital every day from now on! You never know what celebrity you might see. Probably Jade Goody.

I am over the moon with joy to hear that Michael McIntyre's DVD has become the fastest selling DVD by a debut stand-up comic in the history of everything ever that's ever happened before ever. Last week it was Frankie Boyle who had achieved what most people thought impossible and couldn't give a shit about but this week Michael beat him. And why? BECAUSE OF THE COVER. I'm telling you, there's no way that any DVD (or any thing, for that matter) holds as much unadulterated happiness as the picture that Michael chose for the cover. I'd like to think that his rise in sales is down purely to me saying that I like him now and therefore everyone now feels comfortable buying McIntyre product but really it's the cover. When I saw it on the shelf at Sainsbury's it was like watching the Wizard of Oz in one second flat. Dara O'Brian, Michael McIntyre, Frankie Boyle. In other words; Black & White, Colour, Black & White. Well done, Michael. That photo of you deserves everything it gets. I LOVE IT! 

I stayed at home last night. The first night in weeks that I've done that. Of course, it wasn't just me sitting on the sofa getting dirty looks from Jerk while I scream at Celebrity Juice, those days seem very far away at the moment. Instead it was me, Jerk and The Kulhans. In many ways it's safer being with them all at once, that way my Father-In- Law doesn't say something uncomfortable like Quim or Feltching and we can act like mature grown adults and play a spot of cards. The spot of cards that we played was a game called Uno. It's a game based on numbers and primary colours to teach very young children how to understand numbers and how to gamble. You might think that this was an immature game to play for five grown adults but The Kulhans play it like it's a championship game of Chess or a members only club's Bridge Evening. It took fucking ages. And I lost. The fucking cheating cunts. It's a fucking little kids game anyway so I don't even care about losing because it's just for kids and it just proves that I'm more mature than them times a million. I quickly went to bed, in a huff, and watched Doctor Who. I've woken up now and packed my bags along with my brand new Doctor Who Series Four boxset that will accompany me on my trip to Leicester. Pretty much the worst city in the UK with only crappy, crappy Season Four for entertainment. Wish me luck.