Sunday 12.01am: Right. This is it. The end of a beautiful relationship with cigarettes. It's over. Finished. We mean nothing to each other any more. Have just smoked self silly while watching gangster-coming-off-heroin film, Gridlock'd and now am going to sleep. First thing tomorrow morning am taking the remaining cigarettes from duty free stash out into street and will give them to first smoker I see. Just one last, lovely fag - a smooth and sultry Marlboro Light - for old times' sake.12.02am: Notorious gangster rapper Tupac Shakur bursts into bedroom. "Right, listen here, motherfucker," he says. "You're going to kick. And you can't kick alone. So we're going out on the streets and we're going to kick together. Right?" About to ask him how he got into flat, especially when he was reported dead in Las Vegas shoot-out in September, but decide wiser not to argue with 7ft gangster.