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| Wrap your lips around them |
Textbook stuff.
I'm in Nero's having a coffee and putting off writing my great novel that will make my fortune. My latest ouevre is about a man, much like myself, who.... that's as far as I've got.
I've been back from Shitburg (Hamburg) for one and a half weeks now. Very pleased not to be going there anymore. The work was quite well paid but it was astonishingly badly run. Everyday I was rendered dumbstruck by their antics and I gradually lost the will to live. I started to realise that the skillset I was using wasn't the traditional one for a copywriter (that of writing copy) it was, rather, trying to look like I give a shit. In advertising this is now a very important skillset. Much more important than doing your job.
So what else has been happening?
Me and Liz went to a pub called The Palm Tree in Mile End. It is a throwback to the 1950's and as such, is brilliant and well worth a visit. There was no one in there but for two old couples on one table, one old couple sat at the bar, the barman (old) and me (in comparison, a fresh faced youngster) and Liz. As we sat there a pigeon hopped up the step, strolled in through the front door and walked towards the bar. All of us in the pub obeseved it quietly as it walked in, behaving in exactly the way an underage drinker does when they try to brazen their way into a pub for the first time. The barman shouted "Oi. Out you go, we've got too many birds in 'ere."
The pigeon turned round and walked out.
Made me laugh. Made the old women cackle like crones. The barman was rightly proud of his joke.
What also makes me laugh is the shop downstairs from my flat. It is one of those places women go to have their fannies dewaxed, their eyebrows attacked and their skin stripped from their bodies with a laser centrifuge or something. At day's end they always put a bin bag on the pavement outside the shop. Now I'm no detective inspector, as you know, but my guess would be that the bin bag is full of fanny hair. A big spherical ball of springy, fanny hair contained in a bin bag about the size of a beachball.
Why on earth am I telling you all this? Apart from I just like saying "fanny hair" I am really tempted to kick it. You know how sometimes you want to bite into a cake of soap, not for the taste or anything, but just to experience the sensation on your teeth.
Well I want to kick it to feel the sensation on my foot. If my guess is correct I reckon it would feel really nice and once airborn, would float somewhat, on the breeze, making for a good game of fanny hair ball keepy uppy.
I'll let you know if I do.
In the meantime a few more photos.
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| A magnificant pair of jugs. |
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| Me in Nero's with my new contact lenses. They're taking a bit of getting used to. Also check out the new boots. Redwings. Oh yes. Redwings. |
