The Arena Of The Unwell: City of angels and fake tits

And so it begins.

Leaving Heathrow on a 4pm flight bound for Los Angeles, I touch down about 7:30pm local time on Sunday. This is my first time in LA since 1996 so I'm quite excited to be back. Upon arrival I remembered what my brother Ian had always told me about jet-lag; west is best, east is a beast. He would appear to be correct as usual. Despite a number of sleep-inducingly crap films with British "actors" (please stick to the stand up routines Mr Brand) I fail to to get a wink of spatchka and arrive feeling surprisingly awake and relaxed.

I'm greeted at LAX by my cousin Bob and his mate Bryan who kindly drove us into town. Bob's been touring the US with The Australian Pink Floyd Show and hot-footed it over from Salt Lake City on the tour bus to join me for a west coast mini break. It's his first holiday for a few years so he's pretty excited about the next couple of weeks.

Arriving at Banana Bungalow in West Hollywood we dumped our stuff and quickly headed out to Barney's Beanery on Santa Monica Bvld. When I explained to some random drunk guy staggering around with his own pitcher of beer in hand that I was on day one of my adventure and looking for things to do in town he exclaimed "You suck at this!". I thanked him for his vote of confidence and trotted off to the legendary Rainbow. We speak to a few people in here and it quickly transpires that more or less everyone in Hollywood has something or other to do with movies and TV - ubiquitous to the point of being passé. I get the feeling if you rocked up with a briefcase claiming to be an accountant they'd think you're the mutt's nuts. We stayed until closing time. This is now 9am London time and I'm shot to bits. Up the stairs to Bedfordshire.

Free breakfast at the hostel is a polystyrene bowl of cheerios, toast (brown or white bread available) and enough coffee to transform developing nations overnight whilst having little effect on my own well being. A couple of buses take us down to Venice Beach where the sand just seems to go on forever. This is what a beach should look like. There an open air gym down here (think human zoo) with a pack of wild knuckleheads providing the entertainment and a bunch of wannabe rap stars trawling the seafront waving handfuls of their latest CDs in a our faces. They attack us with their oversized headphones so we can check out their efforts and try to convince us that LA has a monopoly on talent. Word up generic west coast rap dude. Don't talk to me about sophistication a've bin t' Leeds!

We grab a proper burger at the Sidewalk Cafe before walking north up the seafront to Santa Monica Pier and catching a bus back into town.

Spag Bol for a fiver in the hostel courtyard and straight back out on the town. We hit the Saddle Ranch for some Monday Night Football action then back up to Rainbow. It looks busier tonight. Turns out the clientèle, which consist mainly of washed up rockers and their unfair share of hot rock chicks, are in town for Steel Panther's Monday night residency at the Key Club. Tongue-thru-cheek cock-rock at its cheesiest. Bam Margera is there promoting the new Jackass film too. Very funny night out.

Wearing shades to hide the devastation behind we scoff some breakfast before heading out into the midday sun. Along Melrose Avenue and north to Hollywood Boulevard we continue on towards the lure of the Hollywood hills. We must have clocked up about six miles and twice as many blisters by the time we get to the top but it was well worth it. It would appear that nobody walks anywhere in LA, let alone up to its famous landmark. Thankfully a couple from Indonesia were kind / foolish enough to fall for our sob story and brought us back down in their jeep. It's becoming clear I'm a better blagger than a blogger!

The evening was spent in usual fashion. Back out on the strip we head for The Den for a quick one before moving on to the morbid curiosity of The Viper Room. For some reason I expected a lounge / cocktail bar but it's essentially a tiny gig venue for up and coming bands and tonight they're playing host to some three-piece outfit named That Noise. We got in for free but the drinks were a bit steep - $7 a bottle. We stay for one, then true to form, head straight back to Rainbow where we swap London stories with some LA girl with a freakish passion for our own green and not so pleasant land. I guess the grass is always greener.

The next day is a rather sedate affair. We head down to the Farmers Market where Fox are filming an episode of Modern Family. We actually walk right onto the set and are promptly instructed to act natural and continue walking along the sidewalk right behind where they're filming. Depending which take they use we may be getting beamed into living rooms across the nation soon. Sushi-A-Go-Go for some amazing Mosaic Rolls and head back to chill.

Bob's mate Tomi and my mate Steve from London are in town. Steve's out here with some actor and scriptwriter friends planning a film shoot for next year. We join forces for a couple in The Dime on Fairfax and Oakwood. There are dozens of dimly lit cocktail bars like this in London but here it seems unique and makes a nice change. Bob, Tommy and I scoot back to Sunset for a couple more before departing in our now customary inebrieted state.

Next stop San Diego ...

Choon for the day: Red Hot Chilli Peppers - Dani Calfornia