dya hear me bruv?
started the day laughing to myself, listening to radio 4 interviewing some yoots on the streets of hackney with pitbull and staff crossed dogs.
they were talking about how they get angry when stoopid people get scared of their (weaponised) dogs because it makes the dogs go crazy: if people weren't scared of the dogs, yeah, the dogs wouldn't sense their fear and go for them...you get me bruv?'
imagined most radio 4 listeners might be struggling without some kind of subtitles.
oh my days...
shot kimberly dunne (she of virgin holidays' sale ads) in soho square.
she was just wearing heels, a hat and an old newspaper.
and it was SO cold.
respect.
drove over to 'big sky' for a press session with 'chipmunk'
he was good, but a little tired by the end of the day: when i was going 'come on, just two more shots (not frames) to go...come on: i'm 20(!) years older than you.'
'yeah but you don't get worked as hard as i do', he said.
'well i do today: watch me.'
finished with smiles all around and LOTS of great shots but now i'm über knackered.
and i'm sitting in a hotel room waiting for a call about another shoot i had planned for tonight (third of the day again)
but it's looking progressively unlikely.
i should be writing a treatment instead but i'm too tired to see this, let alone think straight.
it's cos i is old and i work so hard.
you get me bruv?
and i'm so street, blood.
throw your hands in the air, if youse a true player
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