Brazilian Relaxing Clubs

There’s a woman over there on that bench holding a long pink balloon, bent into the shape of, well, to be as delicate as possible, bent into the shape of a ladies bits. It’s not just me, it DOES look like that. The reason that you may be sceptical and I’m not, is that I’m sitting outside the Tate Modern in London, and balloons shaped into female delicates are less surprising in that context. And she keeps saying “Fantaaaastic!” into her mobile phone. “Fantaastic!” There she goes again… “FanTAAAStic!”. No other input to the conversation, just “FANTAAAASTIC!”… And again… Is it?

Actually it’s cloudy and the winds got a chill, and I’ve got a got a cold and I’ve taken a pill, and the ground that I’m sitting on’s a bit too damp, and red t-shirt, red trainers makes me look a bit camp.

Hmmm where did that rhyme come from? I’ll put it back. It’s nice when rock bands send whole cities a message isn’t it? I wonder if they’ve got something to sell?

Anyway, this picture reminded me a bit of how I felt sometimes at work…

And talking of work, I’m going to start a new business. Want to know what it is? Do ya? I might tell you if you buy some CD’s! he he!


Well life’s a bit different when you don’t go sit in a harbour side café every day for breakfast. It’s also a bit tougher when you have had a night out drinking Stella Artois for the first time since your 20’s. Gawd I’m getting old! Fortunately I have nothing better to do today than put stuff up on Ebay and watch the DVD’s of the fantastic Boston Legal that I got delivered today. Who’d have thunk that William Shatner would end up such a hero? His albums good too… Honest

Look! My heads got a hole in it!

The only way I can pay to get it sealed up is if you buy my stuff!

There’s no place like…

“We regret to inform you…”. Do you? Do you really? Do you care at all? Probably not, I’d guess to be the correct answer to that one. Yup, we’re back in an airport departure lounge my friends and Avion-Facile are up to their usual tricks. Half an hour delay announced so far so what’s our guess as to what that really means? Place your bets ladies and gentlemen, round and round she goes, whether we will ever get to London? God knows.

Things you get in departure lounges that you rarely get anywhere else;

1. Men in linen casual suits and straw hats with unkempt hair, who look like the old artistic eccentric character from some half-assed Sunday night pseudo-drama like Heartbeat.

2. Women who’ve had too many cheap skin peeling treatments flouncing around in Hermes while about to get on an EasyJet flight. Yup, live it up luv, we all paid 30 quid for our tickets to the sun too you know.

3. Generic Daily Mail reader couples. You know the ones. Fly to France on the cheap for the laid back Mediterranean lifestyle but don’t really like the natives. They don’t really like anybody or anything much, other than “people like us” and “our way of life”. They’re easily identifiable by their use of phrases like “what it means to be British” and “I’m not usually one to complain”, and can be brought dangerously close to cardiac arrest simply by slipping the topics of “asylum seekers” or “unmarried mothers” into your casual and polite conversation with them. The men look uncomfortable in casual clothes and the women wear polite pastels. All look like they’ve spent their lives sucking on lemons.

4. Me, being grumpy because my 3 months in the Independent Peoples Republic of St Mandrier has come to an end.

Oh yes, bye bye Chaton (kitten). Little 9 year old Margot being brave when she says goodbye because she doesn’t want Tonton John to feel bad. Little 4 year old Loic not quite grasping the situation, stopping to give me a very serious faced cuddle goodbye and then brightening up and telling me what we’re going to do together tomorrow (make paper planes and boats pretty much like every other day). A blur of kind faces, and kisses and hugs from all of the characters of the last 3 months of my life’s soap opera. And all asking how soon I’ll be back and I fob them all off with “well I hope soon, but I’m not sure because the money is going to be tight” until little Margot tells me that I have to come back for Christmas because me being there is the only Christmas present she wants, so I crack and have to promise, while trying not to cry like a baby. And as I’m typing that in the departure lounge, Rufus Wainwright is on my headphones just reaching the crescendo of one of his more emotional and epic numbers from “Want One”, “Go or Go Ahead”, and it takes a mansize swallow to stop the tears from coming again.


You really should listen to Rufus Wainwright. He’s very good you know.


So what am I going to do next?
I have an idea.
I’ll tell you about it next time maybe.

But before that, I’m on a plane now. If you bothered to guess how long I’d be delayed, it was 30 minutes. EasyJet in “we don’t lie about delays” shocker.

Just had a FANTASTIC Terry and June-esque minute. I had bought my International jet-set Scotch and Coke (You should always have a jet-set drink on a plane, it’s the law, just the same as even on the most scabrous ferry you must have Martini’s on deck which you drink with your finger cocked just so.). Anyway, quelle horreur, I dropped the 4 quid little bottle of Johnnie Walker down the side of my seat. After spending a few awkward minutes trying to retrieve it, I looked disconsolately at the nice lady sitting next to me with her husband/ lover/ son who had nipped to the loo, explained my plight and asked her if she might budge up a second so I could get a better angle to reach under my seat. “No, no” she replied “I’m smaller, let me try”, (she is Australian you see and, as such, genetically much nicer than most of the population of Britain). So down on her knees she went next to my seat, head bobbing up and down over my lap just as the gentleman accompanying her returned from the toilet…


It’s getting harder to write stuff on here. My head is buzzing and popping like I’ve poured 10 packets of SpaceDust in my ears and then opened the top of my skull and poured in a big, fizzy glass of Tizer. Back to the lovely UK again; so much stuff to organise in my thoughts; a million things to do; a whole new life to start; money to get… Boommmmfffiiizzzzzz! there goes another shooting star out of my brain on its way to Jupiter!

Every time i start to write something it comes over as overblown and trite.

So i’ll try to make my sentences shorter.

Less ideas in each.

Say little.


Le Mandrienne

A kitten was horrified today on waking up to find that the sky had changed colour. “For my entire life which is a whole month long now, the ‘above-the-hard-underneath-me-thing’ as I have named it, has been a rich deep blue with a bright yellow ball that moves slowly across it providing a most agreeable warmth.” He opined from the safety of his fluffy towel lined, cardboard box residence on the Corniche D’Or.

“Imagine my horror when I cutely looked out of the ‘hard-see-through-bit-of-wall’ this morning, to find that the golden disc had seemingly disappeared and that the ‘above-the-hard-underneath-me-thing’ had become an unpleasant grey colour.” He continued while preparing for a day of slipping endearingly across the tiled floor of the living room and tail chasing.

“The ‘invisible-breathey-stuff’ also seems to have become full of big drops of ‘clear-drinky-stuff’ that make a bad noise against the ‘hard-see-through-bit-of-wall’ and makes my fur sticky-together and cold.” He added from under a pile of newspapers.

Current kitten suspicions for the change in the way the entire world works are centred on the eight-legged-furry-monster that arrived in the garden a couple of days ago. “Too many eyes” He explained wisely while looking to see if the world looked better the other way up.

Starve the Beast


Read that. Is it not horrendous? Am I missing the point? Is this womans voice not like some little, Republican, money-obsessed gnat buzzing around peoples ears trying to distract them from what’s important?

“If you are considering donating a used vehicle, keep in mind the rules got much stricter this year. If you volunteer your time and services, these are never deductible. However, any travel, food, or lodging expenses you incur because of your volunteer work are deductible, so save these receipts.”

Save those receipts? What hell planet does she live on? Before you give to charity as a gut response to images of horror and suffering on the news and out of compassion for your fellow human beings, have a good think about how it can affect your tax deductibles at year end?

The US authorities lack of response to what G W Bush on Thursday called a “Temporary disruption that is being addressed by the government and by the private sector” is a direct effect of the 20 year old “Starve The Beast” policy. Reduce the money available to the public sector to reduce governments involvement in peoples everyday lives and to allow the private sector to fill that role… Sounds good until it erodes the infrastructure including the flood protection around New Orleans. Sounds good until that infrastructure finally cracks after years of underfunding in the face of a disaster that FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency),a US Government department predicted in 2001, and a million people really need the government to get involved in their everyday lives. Shall we wait for the private sectors response? Let’s not all begin holding our breath until Halliburton start handing out food parcels shall we?

Don’t let them make you think like they do.