Thinking of going down to the Trench of Despair for a bit of sociology. It won't take me long to think about it. Saturday mornings tend to feature the usual collection of elasticated youth still out from the night before and a couple of old men who are fond of not very much. Recently there's a been additional subset identifiable as 'students' who wear black singlets and tight jeans, tattoos and hair like Derek Smalls, and go to see bands called Sludgehammer or Slump Test, maybe even Funk Piss. Today there will be an added, or perhaps cross party, coalition of Arsenal fans who will take great pleasure in leaping and throwing their beer in the air if Arsenal can put one past Manchester United. This is probably what it was like in the last days of the Roman Empire.  Add to this, Julie's reading some book called '10,000 Cocks' (or something).

My mother once asked us if we had a 'set'. 'A Set?' we thought, what the fuck is a set? Then we realised it was Scott. Scott will maybe lope in to 'The Trench' and then we can start lobbing hand grenades of tragi-comic misery at all the happy trenches of the world and it will feel good.