Whenever I part-take in anything like this, I’m always determined to get my money’s worth – it’s in my blood. Anyone who knows me well will also corroborate the claim that I could eat for England. I’ve been warned on a few occasions that one day my metabolism will slow and I’ll spontaneously balloon out in several directions, leaving a congealed mess of curry and lasagne (two staple veterans of the Francis Vu diet)… BUT until that day, I’m determined to eat as much good food as I can manage without unintentionally auditioning for a role on ‘Man vs. Food’.

As the unsuspecting waitress began taking our orders, I felt the smallest trickle of remorse for the onslaught that was to follow, mainly because I was about to make the staff work harder than they had ever worked on a Sunday. This was going to be anything but ‘Lazy’. Order after order was brought to our table as the parties around us came and went. Perhaps they hadn’t taken the offer as literally as I had, or perhaps they had a stronger sense of public etiquette… but what could I do? I was still hungry. I was helpless to resist ordering more food.

A wise man once said, ‘all good things must come to an end,’ and in this case, that end was approaching. My girlfriend was full and beginning to reach unmanageable levels of embarrassment, and we were fast becoming the South Bank’s newest tourist attraction.

Content with how much we had consumed, we decided to ask for the bill. I could now smugly reveal that we had ordered, and more importantly, EATEN, enough food to equate to twice the fixed price of the deal. Bet they didn’t see that coming.

I came, I saw, and I had conquered the Lazy Sumdays all-you-can-eat offer. Best part is, I probably could’ve eaten more.

Francis 1, food 0.

The reason why I open this blog by citing a whiny country pop star is because on Saturday I did actually turn 22. I have now well and truly embarked on my 20s.

Although the weather was a bit disappointing considering it’s mid-May, I had a wicked day spending time with some of my favourite people. I received A LOT of alcoholic gifts (are people trying to tell me something?) and set off for a night out in Clapham with friends in tow.

Despite losing my Oyster card and provisional driver’s license and my favourite bronzer and my new lip stick, the night was of a fairly acceptable level of messiness (with the exception of one or two people who shall remain nameless) and I awoke the next day with my dignity intact. Sunday’s hangover day consisted of a trip to my nan’s to consume too much Turkish food and do some much needed monging out.

So all in all, a great birthday and a nice weekend. Let’s hope next year’s is just as good (not that I’m in a rush).

Until then, I’ll leave you all with this gem…

Something that I’m sure will be on YouTube over the next few days, I saw a man propose to his girlfriend in the middle of Covent Garden in front of a huge crowd. This however, was not your average proposal. From what I gathered (having only caught the end when she said yes and became utterly emotional), he was dressed in a panda costume having rode on the back of a rickshaw with his soon-to-be fiancee. He ripped off his head (of the panda costume obviously) and proposed. I’m not gonna lie, I stopped and watched for a moment; random people in the street started to hug the couple (awkward) and people started cheering and of course, everyone under 21 was filming it on their phone. A nicer moment that slowed the bustle of Covent Garden down for a second.

On Sunday morning, I had to make the massive trek from Wimbledon back to my home in North West London. Walking through Waterloo station, I found that people were walking uncomfortably faster than usual. When I looked up (as everyone knows to keep your head down and avoid eye contact in London), I realised I had just walked into a TV crew filming a scene with Sheridan Smith and David Morrisey; they were filming them walking through the station and just walked alongside everyone else. Not sure what they were filming but if you ever watch Smith/Morrisey feature where they walk through Waterloo station and you see an Asian-looking guy looking utterly confused, that’s me.

Alas, we are at the end of my blog. I’ll leave with something that has 4 parts, but I thought I’d share just one. Late night talk show host Jimmy Kimmel gets celebrities to read mean tweets that were sent to them; made me laugh…

I am ecstatic to be joining Premier League productions in creating new content for next season. I will be hosting features for the channel and exclusive interviews with football’s biggest stars.

My first day on the new job and I’m thrown in the deep end, being invited to Michael Owen’s stables in Cheshire for an exclusive retirement interview with the legend.

He was lovely and uncharacteristically open.

Owen spoke to us about his memories of joining Liverpool at a young age – the day he was called up to play for England and ‘That Goal’ against Argentina in the ’98 World Cup.

The unprecedented access and time we got with the star mean’t that we could really talk, delve deep into his story and talk honestly about his poignant injuries.

At just 19 Owen severed his hamstring in an injury that affected the rest of his life. He opens up about the moment he felt his leg give way, what his worries were and how much, or how little support he had.

It’s well documented that Owen’s meteoric rise was as fast as his pace. Playing every game he could. We look at how perhaps Owen played too much too young and how he could have had longevity if he had rested.

Owen tells us about his regrets, his thoughts on British football and his new aspirations. A footballing legend closing the curtain on a magical career that won him several notable awards and trophies, including his favourite European Footballer Of The Year.

We spoke to Owen on his final training day. His final game for Stoke is Sunday. Ending his career not quite how he had envisaged.

The interview goes out on PLTV worldwide this Sunday pre match.

Now… I won’t waste your time too much so I’ll get right to the point. These recent weeks have been…’transitional.’

Planning what’s to occur next week, which will be a wonderful festival of different employment types.

And planning whats to occur for the rest of time, forever amen. Ha!

The thing is as time passes I find myself becoming less and less tolerant of certain kinds of people. I have easily deleted or muted half the “friends” I have on my personal FB. I’m clearly distancing myself from colleagues I find to be overly sincere…and as a direct result clearly insincere. Am I turning into an old grump… I think the opposite. My time is valuable to me, so I am prioritizing…which means I spend more time with the right people…working on the right projects, which makes me happier! I’ve often wondered if this is a symptom of my industry; an industry I have always been in love with. But I think not…because the acquaintance purge I’m experiencing covers different areas of my life. My question is simple…Is it just me? Have you done…or doing something similar? Is there a section of society that returns to their social networks to find everyone…gone? There’s a saying in poker; “If you can’t see the mug around the table…it’s you!”

Also I filmed a few bands in Shoreditch on Monday and edited the whole night into a 3 minute piece. Cast your eyes over “This Is Wired – May 2013.” Every ‘like’ or ‘view’ helps! I’m still trying to educate myself with After Effects and motion tracking titles…but I’m getting there..slowly, but I’m definitely getting there!

Flojob is one of these friends. She’s but a stones throw away but we only get to see each other on the rare occasion. I love this girl and no matter how often or rarely we see one another, she’s one of those people you know your going to know for a very, very long time!

Flo’s special to me for lots of reasons..

No matter how wild your time at uni was I can guarantee you it wasn’t as wild as Flo’s…

You see, Flo and I were a match made in heaven..

Well not quite… it was called Butler’s Court and we were designated a shared room together. Probably from what we could gather due to our matched height, hair colour and shoe size… But it ended up being much more than that – well don’t get carried away, I’m not going to get experimental on you!

Flo and her mummy arrived at her new halls on the first day of Uni to find me on the window sill having a ciggie, already two bottles if cider down…yep well educated and a pro at first impressions!

We instantly bonded, and I fell in love with the girl. We were similar-ish and it just worked!

Despite Flo waking up and questioning the large lumps on her head..

Wait, let me elaborate… I can’t stand snoring and Flo is a wee bit of a snorer so I’d start by throwing flip flops to try and subtly wake her but nothing, nothing stirs this girl so before long it would be wooden healed cowboy boots and no she didn’t even flinch!

…despite coming home to a flooded room ( up to your knees) after I sat on the plug whilst having a relaxing shower, which led to industrial cleaners..

despite, well… you get the idea..

We never fell out once, not one argument… I can’t think of anyone else in the world that after all I put this lass through would make me some toast and let me in for a cuddle and DVD!

Six years down the line and its Flojob’s 26th birthday… I probably shouldn’t still be calling her Flojob but it feels wrong to call her anything else. I haven’t seem her for months and nothings changed, well… Actually everything has… She’s stopped Smoking (40 a day, Flo) and she’s moved in with a man!!!! And they’re buying a house!!!!! This would seem to be a normal progression for a normal person, but for Flo to be in that place and be so happy is really special news to me. I could not be happier for my Flowy and how great life is for her right now.

I guess what I’m really getting at here is that Flo is one of my dearest friends in the whole world, and fate has its wonderful tall blonde big footed ways of putting people together and I’m so glad it was you. Happy birthday my dearest, I wish you all the happiness in the world for year to come:) xx

P.S. Sorry this message is a week late… Some things really don’t change!!! Xxx

Piaf, for the uninitiated, follows the life of Edith Piaf, the Parisienne songstress of ‘Je Ne Regrette Rien’ fame. Fortunately for us, her life had slightly more drama than that of, let’s say, Taylor Swift’s, (although I’m pretty sure some One-Directioner mentalist will write a savage, Tolstoy-length character-assassination of her for even daring to attempt a relationship with Harry Styles.) with the play following her through drug addiction, alcoholism, a notoriously colourful sex-life (Piaf was a prostitute in her youth) as well as the peaks and troughs of her singing career.

I play Louis, her manager, her young husband Theo, a money-grabbing lover called Lucien, and a sort of maitre’d-cum-rent boy named Emil. Emil has one line, but does have the most beautiful, tailor-made tuxedo-collar jacket you’ve ever seen. I’ll be pinching that one fo’ sho’.

Bolton, if you’re the kind of person who finds trekking north of Golder’s Green a coronary inducing thought, is probably at the bottom of your city-break wish-list, but let me tell you, it’s actually a very friendly place where lunch costs £2.50. There was a market today and all, where three young men, manned with a table and a hand-painted sign, were offering £3 massages. What a barg!? Bolton isn’t actually a city, in spite of having a 160,000 strong population, because the Queen won’t make it so. Her ancestor, James Stanley, the 7th Earl of Derby was beheaded outside a pub here in 1651, and when her car drives through Bolton, she asks for the curtains to be drawn. The girl can sure hold a grudge.

Anyway, we are precisely a week away from our first preview, and a week and a day away from the feted press night. Two previews. That’s it. Best get my act together then, before I mar a reputation, which for a regional theatre, is near beyond reproach.

The joys of working away from home are married to the joys of not living at home. My accommodation, or digs to you dahlings out there, is a granny-flat furnished to the highest standards with enough pine furniture and floral patterns to give Kirsty and Phil an embolism. Below is a picture for your enjoyment.

My landlords are sweet as punch though, and Brenda is more than happy after a night out to burst through my bedroom door at 4am with a slice of blueberry pie, in case that I too have the munchies.

People on the whole, don’t censor conversation up here as you would in London. I’ve been happy to learn that best friends have met through threesomes, and that taxi drivers have gotten around their manic depression through a workout DVD called ‘Insanity’. It really is a breath of fresh air.

Apologies in advance, if on returning I am prone to some TMI and a little forthcoming with, what really, should be strictly personal information. Ah, too hell with it, I’ve never believed in taboos anyway.

Aurevoir mes amis.

If you read my last blog (if?!…of course you did!) then you’ll know I was waiting on my ceramics. Well, here they are;

But enough about the weather and ceramics (I am actually turning into a Granny) and more about the wonderful goings on in the Acting and Commercials department at Red 24 Management! Donal Coonan has just been confirmed for a commercial campaign which will shoot next week, Simon Feilder has just finished shooting a commercial for Channel 4 which will be on your screens very soon, Naomi Young is off filming for Channel 5 today, Andrew Glen has just been confirmed as the role of the Doctor in the Finborough Theatre production of Early Days and Iestyn Arwel and Lucy Goldie are still treading the boards in Piaff (Bolton Octagon) and Tahiti The Musical (Warehouse Theatre). Phew – busy week!

If that isn’t enough…there will also be some exciting news announced at Cannes this week. We can’t say anything just yet but watch this space!

I’ll leave you with a picture of the most adorable pug…I’ve become a bit obsessed with wanting one but hating the fact that it’s not practical. Alas…following ‘pugs’ on Instagram will have to do for now!

Since I was about ten years old this and only this has been my dream car… Would it have not cost a fortune to sort the old thing out I would have offered to take it of their hands…

This time next year this car (in racing green) will be mine..!

For those unfamiliar with the event, people (women mostly) raise money for various breast cancer charities by walking a marathon around London from midnight. There are various MoonWalk locations including Edinburgh, New York and Peru. This year the 17,000 walkers had raised £3 million before they set foot out of the world’s largest pink tent, which is where the night began.

Just a quick one on the tent, wow. Big enough to house 35 tennis courts, this year the pink-top was erected at Battersea power station.

My role at this fabulous event was that of host, alongside the very talented and very funny Suzy Bennett. So at 8pm we stepped out on stage for the first time and welcomed the walkers to Battersea and the Moon Walk, and it just got better and better.

From joining a drum troupe on stage to introducing Jennifer Saunders, I had a great evening stood in a bra in front of 17,000 people.

Despite bad weather none of the walkers let their spirits drop, even more remarkable when you consider most of them wore little more than a bra with a bit of decoration. It was a privilege to be involved in such a special evening… on top of that it was an awful lot of fun.

I think I set a world record from the gantry by getting 3,000 people stood at the start line to perform a synchronised high-five. Have that many people ever done that before? I suspect not.

It was one of those nights were you get to really appreciate the awesomeness of the human spirit and also, how good you look in a purple bra. You know the nights I’m talking about.