Last night, I became one of the few people in the world to have seen Chunky Monkey, a mental movie which was shot three years ago and has been involved in litigation and re-editing ever since. It is incorrect in many ways but the main problems had to do with the main character's fantasy of performing anal sex with Julie Andrews using Chunky Monkey ice cream as a lubricant while she sings 'The hills are alive...' For some reason, there were objections from Unilever (owners of Ben & Jerry's) and the estate of Rodgers and Hammerstein. The film was a lot of fun but I don't know when it will ever be screened anywhere. I got to see it because Lawrence got me into a screening at the Cobden Club which is a sort of Groucho-like establishment in W10. We did a little bit of schmoozing before nipping off for a quieter drink at the Golborne.

Cycling involved a few more hiccups. First, I performed my common trick of forgetting where I was going and cycling halfway to Soho before remembering where I was actually meant to be going. Then I decided to use the canal through Camden only to find they've blocked part of it off. It was nice while it lasted, though. After the pub, some major police activity meant I had to make a great long detour before getting round to my bike again. It was in one piece but somebody had adjusted the front wheel slightly for me. They must have thought the quick release lever operated the D-lock as well as the wheel.

B-)