Well folks, tonight's my last night on the White Isle, and I've got to admit I've got mixed feelings about going. On the one hand, pretty much everything's closed and everyone's gone home, so there's less than feck all to do out here now (not to mention the fact that I'll have nowhere to live come tomorrow night anyway!), but on the other hand I've now got to go back to London, sort out my shit, a job, some money, and somewhere to live.
Ok, one other thing: I need some advice - there's a remote chance that I could make a tit of myself on national TV, courtesy of Living TV. I received a call earlier today from Adam - one of their cameramen who I got chatting to at Hush on Sunday night - who asked me a few questions about what I'm doing out here, and a bit about my background.
Obviously, I lied through my teeth and told him that, having been raised by a pack of wolves - who also, coincidentally, invented Facebook and space travel - I was abducted by aliens with and teleported to Ibiza with only my camera and a laptop.