Wirk.

We're here, wirking.

I'll call it wirking because we're doing it sat cross-legged on a zebra print blanket, drinking tea and stealing roll-ups from whichever discarded tobacco pouch doesn't have badgers in it, rather than donning Primark shirts and sitting in an overly lit cubicle staring at that furry blue stuff you can and will stick pins in.

That's 'working'. We wouldn't pretend this is as bad as that.

It sounds the same, though. That's the trick, see.

So, we're spending the day sat in a circle, netwirking, collating, and factualising e.g  realising our cross-post-capitalist multimedia output incorporating a big shiny picture of Simon Mayo breaking out of a hen.

It's alright, really.

We're looking at our strategy for promoting the new EP. Right now it's: play lots and lots of gigs and try and get on the radio a bit ooh and the internet too don't forget the internet that's proved itself quite useful especially with friends in the friendbook hope I can have friends.

Needs wirk.