| I actually didn't go to
CrinkleCuts for my haircut |
 |
| Brooke makes for an emotionally
involving taxi driver |
 |
| Back seat scivers |
 |
| Leah |
 |
| JB doing an impression of Dr
Davies, Brooke letting it all hang out and Steph looking like a strung out
model |
 |
| Riffy bakes in the 75F weather
after our hike around Hampstead Heath (eh?) |
 |
|
Mater
|
 |
| Pater |
 |
| A setup! Bozz sends us to a
dodgy/poncey Italian restaurant off Warwick Ave |
 |
But a sixth of their progeny |
 |
| Hezz in typical somber-but
humourous mode, sporting a t-shirt fit to burn |
 |
| Panic on the streets of
London...gas masks for Al & Jane eye the sale in Baker Street |
 |
| Somehow life has become one big
broken wine glass |
 |
| Turnmill's |
 |
| Mike looks cheekily on |
 |
| Stroking Renee obviously leads
her to believe she's a cat |
 |
| The evening kicks off with Steph
bursting through the door demonstrating how her barefoot water-skiing
technique saved her possessions but not her arse in the Paris mugging
(which took place earlier that day) |
 |
| Steph glows in dark clothing |
 |
| Steph sucks down some oxygen |
 |
| Shepherding the girls |
 |
| Next morning, things are looking
a bit blue |
 |
| The gang, reunited by champagne |
 |