Many congratulations to my friend Mr. John Watkins. After a year without wheels he now has a new car. He can now come to Bath a lot more and leave afterwards, not having to sleep on an airbed on my floor.

We’ll also be able to make our trips to the cinema a lot more frequently. It’ll be like the good old days. Now all we need is for Dan to move back and for me to get my driving licence and a car to go with it.

Mr. Watkins brand new car. He is yet to chav it up with neon lights and “Boom Boom Speakers”

The first trip I took with Mr. Watkins and his new car was to The George pub. I know we have been there a lot lately but this time we didn’t have to get trains, buses and taxis driven by strange old men.

I went for a mascarpone dish that I have not tried before – very brave of me. I did have to ask for the parmesan cheese not to be used though (it is like dried vomit). The dish was very nice and makes a change from sausage & mash and “that chicken thing” I have had a few times.

Mr. Watkins at the bar getting excited about the prospect of ice cream

My meal was nice however it seemed to have an endless supply of peppers

A boat moored up outside The George. I would still quite like to live on one.

Prior to the pub I spent the afternoon in Victoria Park playing football with Simon. We asked some random group of people for a match and ended up playing a 5-a-side game.

I wasn’t that impressed with it. The players in both teams seemed to be working for themselves and not playing as a team and it showed. Missed chances, cringe worthy errors, players all over the place. I know I am a newbie to this footballing lark but even I knew something was wrong.

I did manage to score a goal which made me happy. Not bad for somebody who has only been playing for two weeks. Sean 1. Frank Lampard 0. :o)

The game disbanded as quickly as it was formed. Simon and I were happy to keep going but the other players wanted to drink, smoke and chase some drunk girls. That is why the national team is failing. No commitment from English players and too many distractions and of course, Sven.

The park was also taken over by masses of chav students. There were hundred of them, walking all over the pitch, standing in the goals and being total pricks when asked to move on. I was pleased to see PC Plod appear on the scene and tell the young pissheads to fuck off.

The Royal Victoria Park duckpond. Today without any ducks.

This pigeon wouldn’t fly off when I approached. I was tempted to kill it and make a pie.

Part of the “team” I played with. I didn’t want to get too close to take the photo. I think some of them were chavs.