Thursday 23 May 2002 New York City, New York

We shoot at a nameless franchise chicken restaurant in Brooklyn / Queens. Could put you off fast food for life. We were shooting from behind the counter. It wasn't the roaches everywhere, but the rank and rancid smell of grease that was so sickening. It was the smell of death.

Always get nervous working with extras. They need so much co-ordination. And some extras seem to have a weird inverse kind of charisma that draws the eye to it. Every move they make is so glaringly, screamingly, wrong that leap out of the frame. Even if you try and hide them they'll somehow manage to upstage the action.

At the end of the night we broke into two teams; one stayed behind to get close ups and the other took Justin, Mac, Seth and Clara to Times Square to steal a dawn shot of them walking down the street. First car that passes us is a cop car. But they don't do anything. That's the great thing about PD150s; everyone thinks you're just making a home movie.

"Welcome to Chick'n Bun"