Wake sporadically from 6am to 11.30am at half hour intervals drenched in sweat caused by either fever or guilt regarding vaguely anti-Mandela comments made in previous post. Previous day spent barbecuing various meats and drinking recently released environmentally friendly lager. All flatmates now present and joined by non-flatmate Northerner Martin in viewing of Seinfeld documentary. Flatmates now back on radar and available for liaisons given both flatmates' non-flatmate girlfriends are in Barcelona. Isolate self for purpose of finalising BFI application. Have new found fire inside self (re. application) following flatmate Tom's tweet at notorious Guardian critic Peter Bradshaw which resulted in blog's first usable poster quote: "@tommoores101 Enjoyed Josh's blog. How's his BFI application going?"
Spend day barbecuing and drinking mix of lager and cider. Festivities wind down by 6pm with departure of non-flatmate Northerner Martin. Decide to download Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare and occupy interim with viewing of Eastwood-genre-subversion-classic Unforgiven.
Am visited throughout screening by flatmate Tom and flatmate Johnny for banter, exchange of core values, unified alcohol intake and dual cigarette smoking. Find self questioning stability of flat's cultural sphere when flatmate Johnny reveals that he has neither seen nor ever heard of four time Academy Award winning classic liked by 453 people on facbook and currently listed as imdb.com's 104th best film of all time whilst being ranked 68th in AFI's 1997 list of magnificent movies made during duration of planet.
Presume Johnny in some way poisoned by homemade burgers. (Mainly suspicious of stupidity poisoning brought on by intake of meat that flatmate Tom received from Casey Affleck, a juncture at which he noticed the conspicuous absence of Affleck girlfriend Jessica Alba.)
Feeling of watching Unforgiven akin to two hour coitus. Have no criticism worthy of offer besides slight concern that Eastwood failed to contact babysitter before leaving his children in charge of feverish hogs in middle of open plain farm.
Go to bed minus self's own Sally Twotrees and consider ways in which self can watch second-of-three-western-genre-Best-Picture-Oscar-winners Costner vehicle Dances with Wolves, all on account a' pulling the Unforgiven DVD from under bed.
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