war party t'other day.

this new mag came out called war so they hired stringfellows and got in a load of free drinks. the mag could be a load of shit but i'd still sing its praises because i got fucking wasted and it cost me nowt. these pictures were gona go on the vice site but i was too slow and some upstart beat me to it. so they got demoted to this shitty blog we do. rumour had it that this white wristband i was given got you a free lapdance but it turned out, after asking one of the barladies if she fancied 'sittin' on mi face and i'll guess yer weight' (good ol' macc lad lyric) that it meant nothing like it and i should watch my cheeky little mouth. some famous model gave me a bump of K that totally worked me over and then tried to take the piss out of my camera. i couldn't string a sentence together in my defense, so i just said 'thanks'. oh yeah she's called alice dellal i think. thanks for the bump. and my camera does look kinda stupid. 
 Ok, so we start at the end, with a shot of kingsley on the bus home with his now standard 'wasteface' on. 

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