James might have glandular fever. He’s going for all these scary blood tests and things. The doctor said he had an acute infection. James said the doctor had a cute ass. He was thrown out. Not really of course – the power of suggestion. But seriously, he’s not a well man.
I’ve just finished typing up a new draft of the investors’ agreement, which I am taking to a solicitor tomorrow morning. I’ve spoken to one Mr. Chris Jones, martial artist extraordinaire, about appearing as a demon and doubling for Joe; he and Simon Wyndham will be coming to Hereford soon for a grand tour of the locations. Their plan is then to shoot blocking tapes in the gym Chris owns oop North.
I’m having second thoughts about Dante’s poncho. Why would anyone wander about the streets at night wearing a poncho? (Note: this is a cowboy-style poncho, not a yellow-plastic-waterproof-style poncho.) Maybe I’m just getting cold feet now that I know that someone is going to start making it any day and then it’ll be too late to change my mind.