December 15 (Wednesday): This morning I awaken around 4AM, wide awake, unable to sleep, unable to make safe, sense and secure of things. I keep think about my Job Centre appointment yesterday, the whole surrealistic drama of it.

After many minutes deliberation, I wind up putting on the Bad Lieutenant on DVD. When the movie eventually ends and Harvey Keitel gets his brains blown out outside Madison Square Garden and the Abel Ferrara song kicks in, I turn off the movie to realise the hour of 6.30 and pretty much accept morning has broken. I wake up to hear some nut cases in Greece have taken a bus hostage. I roll my eyes and attempt to go back to sleep.

I re-emerge around 9.30 with yet another sledgehammer headache/migraine, what’s that; five days running? Today the days have finally moulded into one and I find myself at points wondering what day of the week it is (I actually swear at one point it is Friday). Things are getting desperate.

I’m falling down the slippery slope now of watching and getting into daytime TV. I really should not be watching the T4 Christmas schedule (chock full of repeats of shows I have already seen), Cheers “classics” (more repeats of shows I have already seen) or the quirky US drama show called Ed, especially as it’s executive producer is David Letterman.

In order to break from this routine, I enter into proper unemployed chav mode by picking up the Playstation but when I find myself unable to beat Shawn Michaels as Bret Hart on the latest WWF game, I feel like throwing the machine out of the window as I only discover yet another area that I am a failure in.

MSN thankfully snaps me out of my lull when a few friends come online, finding desperate and in need of human contact. Acton tells me how today is his Christmas Do at the BBC and I feel gutted as I get reminded of how I am missing out on my Christmas meal this year, it always tastes SO good. Coogan (Tom) is also online but he ain’t responding. He’s been kinda curt to me lately, I suspect I may have done something to upset and piss him off. Tom later pops up and we’re cool.

I head out for lunch late afternoon, heading towards Stanway and Sainsburys. Whenever I go to Sainsburys I always seem to do/perform the work session of shopping of the least healthiest food going. And today I add to my groceries the Quentin Tarantino boxset, which only costs £16 for 6 discs compared to when I bought Reservoir Dogs without any extras years ago for £20. Ouch.

As I queue at the checkout, I get stuck behind a real gimp. This man has a fucking bumbag tied over his crotch, is dressed like a tramp and buying about six boxes of hair mouse/gel in one go. And then he argues the toss over the fact that they fail to automatically give him the 2 for 1 discount. No wonder the guy is out shopping in the daytime and isn’t at work: he’s a moron! When I finally get around to being served, I am super efficient and done within the seconds. I look at the girl on the checkout who apologises profusely for the hold up and I realise despite being the size of a house, she is actually really pretty. I make small talk and work and it, unfortunately, turns out to be the only real human contact I get today. And boy was I good, the world seems a good place once again.

The afternoon sails by and soon turns into the evening. I spend the afternoon writing with the occasional MSN interruption by Tom and/or Richard. And this is the routine that spills into and consumes the evening.

The highlight of my day turns out to be when I receive interview questions back from The Go! Team, which come really unexpected as that band is going to be fucking huge next year. Spice world!

I (probably) fall asleep watching Arrested Development only to wake up shortly past midnight with Basquiat on TV, which I really attempt to re-awaken for but it turns out a futile task. I also check my phone and there is a text. Sara? No, it turns to be from Phoebe replying to something or other that I asked earlier in the day. In her words “nite nite”.

np: Funkadelic – Nappy Dugout