So I guess going to Abbey Road was a pretty weird experience just cause even parking up and walking inside involved loads of tourists outside taking photos as we walked in, cause there was some Beatles re-recording thing going on and they didn’t know who was who. The closest I got to being involved in that was talking to Joss Stone’s mum whilst we both choked down a cig in the freezing feng shui garden thing out the back. She was really nice and I remember thinking that if she were my mum I’d have probably been a pop star whether I had it in me or not. In these kinds of places my anxiety runs wild and I just instantly feel like a little kid, like when you’ve gone into your dad’s work and you’re kind of just in the way. Like Maida Vale Studios, the place is like a sixth form college with doors that you aren’t meant to look in but behind each one is a 30-strong string quartet or Jessie J doing something or other. Abbey Road was also rife with late- 40-yr-old guys with super expensive looking shoes either milling about doing fuck all or walking with purpose down heavily carpeted corridors, all of whom seemed to inexplicably take a shine to Rob, nodding and holding doors open like he was part of the club. He didn’t know why. Shortly after this I apparently pissed on a man’s balls but I still think it‘s impossible. I’d been sat cross-legged, listening to our song getting mastered then I wandered off for a wee and there was a guy in there next to me and my piss just kind of shot out to the right and he massively overreacted and started shouting that I’d pissed on his balls. I dunno how I’d got it on his balls and avoided his actually massive dad-sized dick but apparently I had. After that I walked around a bit more trying to meet Graham Coxon, then got the Megabus back to Leeds.