Snoozing and Boozing...

Spent most of today lying low.Acoording to Walter, my Man, the rowdy dandy in the boozer last night was the Earl of Winchester's nephew. I do so detest these Minor Royals. If they're not lounging in the Debter's Jail, which I might add is like a lock-in at the Hellfire Club. They're trying to act as proletarian a possible in order to pick up birds.

Walters face is clearing up. I suppose you only get a short time with these girls and its nice to have somthing to remember them by, in this case it looks like Herpes.

Barrington popped round at around lunchtime completely arseholed. Whilst raiding my meatsafe and helping himself to a bottle of French wine I had foolishly left unhidden, he told me of this fantastic little place by the docks he had patronised last night. Apparantly in exchange for the right words to the doorman and a couple of Guineas in the proprieters sweaty palm one can sample the mysteries of the Orient first hand. This comment was accompanied with much winking and eyebrow waggling. I presume Barrington was trying to say he has visited a top notch brothel, with foreign birds and and exotic drugs. I may accompany him down tonight although I feel I may emerge in a week with no money, a massive hangover and an interesting gait. We shall see...