| I actually didn't go to
      CrinkleCuts for my haircut |  | 
  
    | Brooke makes for an emotionally
      involving  taxi driver |  | 
  
    | Back seat scivers |  | 
  
    | Leah |  | 
  
    | JB doing an impression of Dr
      Davies, Brooke letting it all hang out and Steph looking like a strung out
      model |  | 
  
    | Riffy bakes in the 75F weather
      after our hike around Hampstead Heath (eh?) |  | 
  
    | Mater |  | 
  
    | Pater |  | 
  
    | A setup! Bozz sends us to a
      dodgy/poncey Italian restaurant off Warwick Ave |  | 
  
    | But a sixth of their progeny
 |  | 
  
    | Hezz in typical somber-but
      humourous mode, sporting a t-shirt fit to burn |  | 
  
    | Panic on the streets of
      London...gas masks for Al & Jane eye the sale in Baker Street |  | 
  
    | Somehow life has become one big
      broken wine glass |  | 
  
    | Turnmill's |  | 
  
    | Mike looks cheekily on |  | 
  
    | Stroking Renee obviously leads
      her to believe she's a cat |  | 
  
    | The evening kicks off with Steph
      bursting through the door demonstrating how her barefoot water-skiing
      technique saved her possessions but not her arse in the Paris mugging
      (which took place earlier that day) |  | 
  
    | Steph glows in dark clothing |  | 
  
    | Steph sucks down some oxygen |  | 
  
    | Shepherding the girls |  | 
  
    | Next morning, things are looking
      a bit blue |  | 
  
    | The gang, reunited by champagne |  |