Sunday 12.01am: "But why do I have to be Saddam Hussein," Vikram is saying, over an impromptu drug-fuelled game of World War at Dylan's. "Because your surname's Hussein," says Tinky Winky. "That's ridiculous," says Vikram. "I suppose you're trying to say that we Muslims are all the same...." I tell him he is perfectly suited to the role because he is a psychopath. "Fair enough," he says. Dylan is the United Nations, which apparently involves him rounding up the players and telling them to "chill out"; I'm Tony Blair, Anna's Bill Clinton (because she's the biggest shagger) and Tinky Winky is Other Arab Nations. I also get to be Iraqi Peasants when such a role is called for, although I am concerned about the inherent conflict of interest in playing both parts - eg, if I hit the nuclear button, will I have to quickly run over to Iraq and be blown up?

1.10am: Everyone getting into their roles in extremely stoned fashion.

Vikram/Saddam: "Iraqi peasant, make me a cup of tea and then sleep outside my armaments factory so President Clinton stops throwing beer cans at me!"

Me/Iraqi Peasants/Tony Blair: "In the role of Tony Blair I say to you, 'Iraqi Madman, make your own tea!'"

Dylan/United Nations: "Hey, look, don't argue you guys. How about Tony Blair puts the kettle on and Bill Clinton washes some mugs and, like, Saddam deals with the tea, milk, sugar type operation?"

Anna/Bill Clinton: "Can't Hillary do the mugs? I'm expecting Ms Lewinsky for a debrief. And I'm only throwing beer cans at you, Mr Hussein, in the hope that you will hand over your secret stash of amphetamine sulphate to the UN."

Vikram/Saddam: "Why? I paid good money for it..."

Me/Tony Blair: "Because it's dangerous for you to have that much. It's better if we look after it for you...."

Vikram/Saddam: "But you and Bill have got 200 times as much gear as I have!"

Anna/Bill Clinton: "Yes, but we're responsible, democratic individuals. You are a psychopathic Muslim dictator who makes women wear head coverings. You are not to be trusted with chemicals of any kind."

Me/Tony Blair: "I can see we're going to have to continue sanctions in the form of a Rizla blockade, Tony. Without Rizla, he will surely eventually have to give in.

Dylan/United Nations: "But you're just hurting the little Iraqi peasants, who have been hours without a spliff."

Me/Tony Blair: "Exactly. Eventually their need for the weed will result in them overthrowing the dictator."

Vikram/Saddam: "Other Arab Nations, can you please pass me a King Size Blue Rizla and some cardboard roach materials, in return for a medium- width line of speed?

Tinky-Winky/Other Arab Nations: "Why certainly, Mr Hussein."

Anna/Bill Clinton: "Sanctions have clearly failed. We must now, reluctantly pursue a surgical beer can strike."

Me/Tony Blair: "I'm behind you every step of the way, Bill. We'll soon have that Lewinsky woman....erm, I mean, that Iraqi Fundamentalist, out of your hair!"

Surgical strike begins. In order to maintain dual role of Tony Blair and Iraqi Peasants, have to resort to throwing beer cans at self. Period of free for all lager throwing ends when Dylan suddenly remembers unpartisan United Nations Peacekeeping role and stops lobbing empty Tennants Extra cans at Vikram's head while screaming "Die fucker, die!".

2.30am: Phone rings. "Saddam's Secret Bunker, Mr Hussein speaking, how can I help?" says Vikram. He chucks phone over to Anna. "It's for you, Bill."

Anna looks suddenly upset and worried, the spliff shaking in her hand. "It's my brother, Mickey," she says. "His regiment's going to the Gulf tomorrow."