Live v- sorry b-logging from the Julien MacDonald SS11 show

It strikes me that everyone's in this game for themselves.

Flat-chested girls with no eyebrows (boys?) Stompy walks the heels wouldn't survive for more than a week. Corpses in big polo necks. Fashion is not sexy. Thin Chinese women. Don't eat chinese clearly. One is wearing a dead badger. A boy in a dress. Blimey, fantastic skirt. Now this one really might be dead. Thankfully the music has roused her - she's alive. Big pouty mouths last seen on Homo Neanderthalensis. Music goes all punky suddenly they're all poking out their bellies. They look like pot-tummied toddlers. This one's good. I'd like to look like her. Really I would.

Just spotted orange man in row in front. Momentarily distracted by extent of fake-tan.

Who says blood-sports are dead? They're all wearing mammals. Highlight! A member of the audience in the front row crosses her legs and the paps all scream. OUTTATHEWAY! Highlight #2 a model trips on skirt. She looks as if she might go and kill herself.

Apocalyptic religious chanting takes over. I think of bones. Then I think of death.

"Wow". Audience reaction is unanimous. "What a collection", gushes the Daily Mirror to my left.

Dee from the Irish Indy to my right has left her seat and is leaning over an incongruous fashionista in a barber trying to get a shot of the designer. She is live-vlogging.

"WOW people are getting rowdy", tweets the Daily Mirror to my left, an agog look on her already gogglish face.

Some have stood up, this is true.

I want to go home.