Takes a trip to the dark and steamy side of human life with maritime lust, black movies, designer death lists and passionate housebuyers
Drunken lust
All credit to the organisers of Little Britain regatta at Cowes for laying on a new attraction this year: the Boathouse nightclub. The venue attracted highly subjective reviews from its clientele, the point at issue being whether they had left enough of their brains unpickled to see it. One QS, who was "so drunk I couldn't speak", described the experience as excellent; others were less impressed. However, one couple did manage to have a good time: reports reach me that they became "extremely cosy" on the dance floor. Alas, because of a prior engagement with a pint of old speckled beaver up the road, I was unable to attend, but if YOU were that randy couple, please feel free to write in and expose yourselves.

Sculpting with darkness
Special mention must go to the Little Britain cameraman enlisted to buzz around the speeding yachts and compile a vivid photographic record of the race for the après-sail entertainment. After he had spent half an hour documenting one of the race's more critical stages, a crew member on his speedboat enquired politely whether the quality of his coverage might be compromised by the fact that he had not removed the lens cap. Perhaps the cameraman had simply taken film noir to its ultimate conclusion, freeing the form from all that so-called "light" foisted on it by venal Hollywood studios. But we are not in the business of breaking auteurs here, so our hero will remain nameless, as well as gormless.

Girls, we just wanna have fun
There's no shortage of ways to celebrate the completion of a building – a champagne party, a VIP opening, a press visit, a book … Now the architectural community has come up with something completely different: a wooden box. The Dungeness box commemorates a new beach house designed by Simon Conder Associates on that desolate area of the Kent coast. Conceived by journalist Vicky Richardson and designer Chrissie Charlton, the memento is stylishly produced in birch plywood, and contains an assemblage of materials, found objects and words inspired by the location. The objects include pebbles and a piece of black roofing membrane, all for an equally stylish £35. Now don't tell me that isn't better than a glass or two of champagne …

Destroy this book
And while we're on the theme of architects doing it their own way, Hawkins\Brown of Clerkenwell is this week celebrating its 15th birthday with a party and a chunky book of its finest projects. So far, so conventional. But Hawkins\Brown's book comes with a strange set of instructions on "how to read this book". "Forget spelling, grammar, syntax, wit, vocabulary and punctuation. Pictures rule," is one such instruction. Fair enough for an architectural monograph packed to the attic with sharp colour photos. But other instructions are more baffling. "Try not to think of a kettle while you examine this building," reads one. And how about: "Start a petition to demolish a building you loathe." What, are we supposed to pick one from this book?

Oi, mind me bodice
Crosby Homes may not seem like the obvious entity to inspire passion, but the housebuilder is clearly thinking sex will sell even its name. Its advertisement on the front page of the Financial Times' property section this week shows a couple on the verge of immoderate snoggage with the lines: "Our hearts raced. Our breathing quickened. So we moved in …" to the Hacienda apartments in Manchester … Oh yes … YES …

The truth about Peter Rogers

I have long admired the style of strategic forum chairman Peter Rogers, with his trademark collarless shirts. So I was fascinated to hear that a colleague of mine found out where he gets them from. “My wife makes most of them, but I also buy some from Issey Miyake,” reveals the dapper champion of lean construction. But if you can’t afford to buy your clothes from top Japanese designers and you don’t have a spouse who’s a whizz with a sewing machine, there is still hope: Rogers says he has also been known to take a normal shirt and cut the collar off.