The play opens, dramatically, with two men giving a sharp spoken statement detailing what happened a few nights earlier. They stand, handcuffed, in front of a metal link fence, surrounded by guards in Marine uniform, and each gives an alternate statement. They speak fast, punctuating their sentences with “Sir

I am single.

We have split.

And you know what? I don't care either way.

I cried for two minutes, I texted people in moments of despair, and I damned him to hell in French.

But, now, like I told Jess: Tomorrow Shev, Gaby, and George are gonna bring choco and some drinks to mine and we're going to camp in my garden after we see Rob Lowe (and stalk him, ssssh) and burn the one picture I have of him. So life isn't so bad.

So, as you can see from the title, its been eventful.
Anthony's house caught fire. Most of his family are ok - his dad has 19% burns but will be fine in a week or two with skin grafts. His house is pretty good too - only the top part, which is "charred".

But I havent been to see him in the two days since it happened. Am I a bad person? I didn't know if he'd want me there: its 45 minutes to get there, so if hes not in, or doesn't want to see me, wasted journey.

He kissed me!
Now I'm all happy and shiny!
T'was nice.
That's all I will say.

As the title suggests, I have a boyfriend.
He's really nice actually, really sweet, and I do fancy him.
But I used to think I was a lesbian, and most of my friends know I mainly fancy girls.
And I do mainly fancy girls, but I like him.
Now, my problem isn't about what my sexuality is - if anyone asks, I'll go for bisexual - but how to let my friends know that I'm not going to hurt him, that this isn't a test.

At least two people have been killed and scores injured after three blasts on the Underground network and another on a double-decker bus in London.
UK Prime Minister Tony Blair said it was "reasonably clear" there had been a series of terrorist attacks.

He said it was "particularly barbaric" that it was timed to coincide with the G8 summit. He is returning to London.

An Islamist website has posted a statement - purportedly from al-Qaeda - claiming it was behind the attacks.

Dear Niamh,

How are you? How is your life? I saw you today on the way home from school. You were with a friend - I don't know her name - and you looked happy. You now have shortish black and brown curly hair - why did you dye it? It looks different, but I still recognised you. I must have look extremely confused, standing by the dorrway of the bus looking out at you, almost staring, trying to see whether it was you. If it wasn't, then its been at least six months since we spoke in person. Maybe even longer, I don't know.

Today, a girl at school, a friend, said one day she'd get drunk and kiss me. And called me sexy.

Jesus, when Bonnie said I was spreading the gayness, I didn't really believe her....

I cut and I cut and I cut and it won't stop.
My leg hurts and I feel headachey because I had some vodka.
I talked to Sarah and she made me cry and I don't want to go to school tomorrow because everything hurts and I have ugly legs.
Because they're red and lined and horrible.
And I probably have PMS.
Ow my head hurts. I think the computer makes it worse. Ow.