The Pit.

Dirty man who frantically gobbles kebab, just kebab and lemon juice, from Zam Zam. Poor show you fool. What nutrition is found in that sliced delicacy? And heads back to the 11th floor for another mindless and uncontrollable bout of onanism before falling into yet another life shortening broken night's sleep. I'm a pitiful creature whenever I return to Leeds from the joy of my time with Lola.

It was all going so well too! If only I had left when the couple from Sweden, with Siv the Weimeraner, departed for Osmotherly. But the extra two halves of a Kernel Dark Beer on a pretty empty stomach.

By 3 am I was awake and at the penis again. Why? That is not the answer. Neither are all the moments from rushing to catch the X99 at 3pm... Twelve hours of mistakes; if you wish to call this a 'sin' I concur.

A few days ago I actually understood the parable of the Prodigal Son. This is me currently, it is tearing me apart, but it's never too late to ask for forgiveness?

From the moment I crossed over the threshold of Bar3 an noon and was forced to listen to every single, damned, Christmas song until they play constantly in my skull at 3, 4 and 5 am.

From outside I am sure I heard 2 gunshots, around 3 too, and then a helicopter a little later. It's insane around Lovell Park and in my mind as it just hangs on by a thread.

At 7:30am I'm heading up Wetherby Road on the usual X99 for an extension of the pre-alcohol existence with Lola.

From today, Wednesday, until Saturday afternoon I'm away from Leeds completely: such relief. But I must make it permanent by 2022 if it is the very final act of this tragicomedy(or is it a farce)?