Do Not:
Go to Bellini anymore, it's gotten crap, and the service is awful. Clue to waiters: if you 'lose track' of where the customer is sitting, you're not really paying attention, are you?
Do Not:
Get pissed and lie down in the rain in Soho Square. Your soaking wet jeans aren't going to be funny five hours from now, when you're still trying to get home.
Do Not:
Run into the car park by your house at 4am in your t-shirt and knickers screaming directions into a mobile phone that isn't yours. Not only is it less pretty than your addled drunken mind imagines, but your neighbours hate you now.
Do Not:
Pretend that Urban Outfitters used to be on the King's Road, only now they only just moved it to High St Ken, nobody will believe you at all, and you just look stupid when you cling to the story that you fondly imagine makes your 'U' grade in Geography less apparent.
Do Not:
Buy those jeans you can't afford in FCUK just because they're the first pair of trews in that shop that ever fit you. If you can't afford the jeans, then you certainly can't afford the pink strappy sandals that you will feel could only ever go with them. And five pairs of blue jeans is enough, if all you're going to do is lie down pissed in the rain in Soho Square, surely.
Do Not:
Walk in the countryside on non-maintained woodland without real paths looking for wild deer if you haven't bothered wearing socks today. You're not immune to nettle stings just because you're no longer six, you know, it's not like school bullies or rhubarb crumble.
Do Not:
Get pissed and shout at your ex in public. Just don't, even if it sounds like a really really satisfying idea right now, by 8pm tonight you'll regret it already. Ditto making up lies about her. No joy, vengeance-boy.
Do Not:
Fuck up the next date. You done good not to go home with her already. Don't piss it away.
Do Not:
Go on the internetweb at 6am when you're out of your tree. You're only going to be rude to people and regret it the next morning when you find all the bread is mouldy and there's no solace in the world.
Do Not:
Forget that if it looked ugly in the changing room mirror, it doesn't look any less ugly after six vodkas in Revolution, no matter how foxy you suddenly feel.
Do Not:
Go to Revolution again. Gary Crowley isn't really the DJ.

Best Blo'te of the Day So Far: Die Puny Humans
"A hyperlinked Sparkline would make webpages like superdense, fractal, layered, zoomable resources, and make the top-level of each topic look vital and organic like a terrarium of squirming data.
The next step would be to see Sparklines in the street, not just delivering data, but harvesting it - being it.
Crawling up lamposts as electricity consumption spikes during the ad-break of Coronation Street. Or infesting the wounds of a pigeon flattened by a delivery truck, updating the national epidemiological database and the air pollution record for that borough based upon trace metal readings in the carcass..."