Primo Blues

When I'm not working to fill King Gordy's ever swelling coffers I sometimes make my way down to the local hostelry to sample a spot of good old dog dying blues.
The other night I caught an outfit called 'Primo Blues' These guys were as tight as a nuns knicker elastic and aside from playing some hot porch swinging blues they also threw in a goodly portion of twiddly fingered beardy jazz.
An evening of good music combined with far too many pints of Batemans 'Rosey Nosey', a fruity Christmas ale of pant ripping ferocity. Meant that the next day was spent with my head in my hands and a well placed cork. Good night though...!

Mock hunt

Its Boxing day and by George its time for a bally good hunt. This apparently is what they call a 'mock hunt' as no fox will hopefully be worried to death in the process. Instead one of the disabled riders will have his or her horse confiscated, be made to don a yellow jump suit and ordered to limp off, only to be followed a few seconds later by the rest of the hunt armed with cudgels and screaming like banshees.

The whole affair has quite an eerie feel, as these middle England horsey types are rather a secretive inbred bunch who are rarely seen after dark and mumble in tongues.
It is mooted in hushed breaths that anyone who happens across one of their hobblings will never again sire a man child!

The hunt itself was roughly an equal mix of bi and quadruped forms. In some cases to be honest it was hard to tell the difference, but as a general rule of thumb I was informed if it shits on the ground its probably a horse.

After they had all emptied their bowels and wobbled off to cudgel the freak the rest of us retired to the warmth of the snug for a foaming pint of wallop and a damned good drubbing...!

Festive merry go round...

The festive season is upon us once more and good cheer is flowing like P45's out of a Woolworth's store.
Its all lost on me though as I strictly adhere to the Ebenezer bah humbug school of thought. Visa vie that crimbo is a total waste of time and money. Its all one big advertisement for 'Noel's beard party' or that churchy programme 'Songs of bollocks'.
This is the first time in in ages I've been in the UK at Christmas and as a consequence I'm having to endure the constant peel of 'jingle bells' emanating from every well meaning orifice.
If I see one more advert for Tescos value butterball turkeys, I swear I'll butterball someones fucking arse...!

Now don't get me wrong, if you have children (which I don't) then Christmas perhaps might be a joy, who knows? I remember as a kid waiting for the clock to strike midnight whereupon I would spring out of bed like a cartoon cat and bounce on my parents bed until I was allowed to open my presents. They must have been saints. Now I just want to work over the holidays or be abroad somewhere they don't celebrate commercialism...

Giant snowman

These poor saps tooling down London's Carnaby street don't realise they're about to be flattened by a giant snowman!
Judging by its trajectory at least a couple of dozen shoppers are in for the Christmas surprise of their life. It must be the result of recent global warming as flying snowmen in this area aren't usually this large.
This is the first Christmas I've been back in England for five years and I'm not looking forward to the experience at all. Christmas shopping, oh the pain and expense of it all...

Weird window

This beautiful Dali style window is on the east side of 'St martin in the field church' central London. It was designed by artist Shirazeh Houshiary and architect Pip Horne, to replace the window installed following World War II bomb damage.
At present it looks like it is temporarily lit by a stand alone builders lamp, which will be a shame as it wont look so stunning at night when unlit. I hope they plan something more permanent.
If it go's to a committee, then there's not a chance in hell as some whacked out human rights group will claim cruelty to glass or some such other ludicrous suggestion.
It puts me in mind of a matrix leading to another time or dimension.
Imagine having to glaze the mother...!

Shadow puppets

Artist Rafael Lozano-Hemmer is the dude responsible for this funky installation on Trafalgar square's north terrace, where animated videos appear in the shadows of people walking throughout the area.
Two large projectors help pedestrians cast long shadows. Sensors are then used to track your movements and project moving portraits into them, and you know what? It works!!
The portraits cast inside the shadows will look at and interact with the pedestrians before appearing to lose interest as the person walks away. I thought it was pretty neat.
The top picture is the result of me getting my wiener out...

Graffiti message

I happened across this piece of graffiti on a shop window the other day and it got me thinking. It sort of sums up the pace of life here sometimes (London that is). Everyone rushing about like headless chickens, faces like bulldogs chewing wasps! Its so depressing even Mother Theresa would need Valium to cope.
Then bang! before you know it its all over, that's your lot mate, come in number 5, red bands please leave the pool area, you get my drift...
It makes me even more determined to keep traveling, seeking out new places to visit, new people to meet, getting to know them, swapping emails, then finding a small scrap of paper in your wallet four weeks later only to wonder who the hell it was from?
Well by God I mean to collect as many scraps of meaningless paper and forget as many people as my overdraft will allow me before I shuffle off this mortal coil...

Food or sex?

You pays your money and takes yer choice at this establishment! Chinese food downstairs or a bit of slap and tickle upstairs.
The red lights denoting ladies of the night plying their ancient trade. Food and sex in perfect harmony. Technically both as satisfying as each other but in different ways. Spring roll anyone...?

Kings of neon

Recently Starbucks came under fire for running their taps all day and causing waste beyond comprehension. surely then this London chain of book shops can be accused of the same disregard for global well being. Lit up like the Eiffel tower 24/7 (albeit it a tad shorter)
I hereby dub them 'THE KINGS OF NEON'
After all we are being told all the time to turn off our vcr's and tv's, stick house bricks in our cisterns and fart in bed to keep us warm!! Give me strength...

Suds Terkel

Lets be honest its always a hoot when someone dumps soap powder into a fountain, but when that certain someone does it in the main fountain in Trafalgar square central London that takes a particularly large pair of elephant balls.
On the plus side it attained a nice Christmas style glow and gave everyone a damn good titter.
I don't suppose the maintenance crews were all that happy as it would have meant them leaving their nice warm office and doing some work...

Sat Lav

Wandering around Westminster? Bladder full to bursting? wobbly leg syndrome? Fear not these chaps have got it covered (providing you have a mobile that is) Just text 'Fuck me the piss is running down my legs' to 80097 and your phone turns into a Porta-potty!!!

My little China girl

A beautiful bride and a big arsed limo (I'm sure that's the right way round?) as well as the Yakuza for your in laws, what more could a man desire?
A wedding in Soho's China town with the reception at Mr Wu's, how do you do...
They're just waiting for the garbage truck to pass before heading home for a bit of 'love you long time $20'

Duchess

Another day in Leicester square and another media scrum...
Following on from last weeks Duchovny premier we have yet another! This time it involves a certain miss Kiera Knightly, a de-memitilarized zone the size of the Gaza strip and enough monkeys in suits to fill the ape house at London zoo ten times over.
This was about as close as I could get without royal invitation. To be honest it was about as close as I could be bothered to get, after all who wants to see a sunken chested dwarf in a taffeta bag surrounded by a bunch sycophantic cheesy liggers. Yawn.....

So not Soho!

Soho is not what it used to be and thats a fact! When I was a young pubesent teen with testosterone leaking out of every orafice I used to visit the area together with a few mates. We would gape in awe at the sex shops wondering what was inside but never quite having the courage to enter those dim portals. Occasionally a figure hurridly emerged sheilding himself from the outside world as if afraid of being seen. The blinds would part tantalisingly offering a glimpse into a world of strange magazines and rubber things.
If we had a few bob spare we would invest it in a 5 minute peep show. You would enter through a darkened door, proceed down a corridor and into your own private little cubicle. You would then place your money into a slot and voila a little window would drop down revealing a female form in a state of undress gyrating to some sensual 70's sounds. If you glanced around the room you would see lots of pairs of eyes staring back at you.
If you were lucky she was facing you, and you caught a glimpse of pubic hair, if not all you saw was her back...
After 5 very short minuts the shutter would drop down with a thud and you were left feeling deflated and strangly enough unable to move your feet which had become stuck to the floor. Ugh!!
Sadly thats all but gone now. Sure there are a few ladies offering favours for money and of course there are a few sex shops. But it has changed a lot, or perhaps iv'e just got older?

half an X file

I happened across this little melee last week. It was the west end premier of the new X-Files film 'I want to believe' It was utter chaos, but undeterred I thrust my camera toward the general direction of the screams (allowing for the doppler effect of course) and fired off a few shots in the hope I may capture big kahuna, David Duchovny himself. As you can see I did. Can you see him? do you care?
I want to believe I really do, trouble is I don't!

London Town

Well I've been stuck back in smokey old London now for a few months and quite frankly its doing my head in. The housing market has gone to pot and all hell has broken loose on the economy front. A pound sterling is now worth squat, and as a consequence I'm stuck here for a whle trying to eek out a living and pay a mortgage the size of an elephants head...!

The big move part 2

Well all the stuff arrived in one piece, if not totally unscathed. Nearly everything had a scrape or a dent of some sort. Still I can repair or hide most of it!
I do have to say though my Index furniture looks a tad out of place in an Issan village hut, ha ha ha.


This is the piece of land on which I will be having 'Che Wilson' constructed. Its about 1 rai (1600 sq mtr's) This is plenty of space for the house to sit and still have ample room for a vast veggie plot.

It offers commanding views of beautiful countryside and rolling rice fields. Perfect for picking off the odd peasant or unsuspecting water buffalo.

I decided to only fill two thirds of the land as I thought a flat plain would be a bit boring, so now it has two levels. One no doubt to flood nicely in the rainy season!!


Whats the cost of all the labour I hear you cry? Well for the tractors, earth movers, levelers and diggy things, the complete total for was 30,000 baht or approx £440.
It worked out at 200 trucks of earth at 150 baht a truck or approx £2.23. Where could you get it any cheaper?

Now it has to be left for about 6 months to settle, before building can begin.
I intend to have built, an abode of about 180 sqm's. Consisting of 3x bedrooms, 2 x bathrooms, but still have plenty of time to make adjustments as it suits me.

Part 3 to follow...

The big move Part 1

Today is the day of the big move up north, and we have been up since 07:00 doing the final packing. Most of the furniture has been swathed in blue and white sheeting, (well worth it at about 750 baht for 30 metres). To minimise rubbing on the journey. We also purchased several large plastic tubs to hold the breakables. Its in the hands of the lord Buddha now?

Suddenly at 11:30 the usual quite of our home was punctuated by the rumble of a large truck, followed by the 'toot-toot' of a horn. The beast had arrived. I run outside and slid open the gate to allow its entrance.


It looked colourful enough, but was it up to the task? Great plumes of smoke pumped from its exhaust as it reversed to a stop and breathed its last.

All at once four fit looking Thai guys sprung into life, emerging from within canvas sheets, where they no doubt have been slumbering before the task ahead.

Our driver had been around two days earlier, and assured us that his truck was large enough to accommodate all our belongings. We shall see as I glanced around me dubiously.


Less than half our stuff was loaded and our man looked thoughtful as to whether it will all go on? I had already started to select stuff to leave behind as a last resort.

Every now and again he would point to something and say 'this go' when we replied yes, he would scratch his head and let out a desperate gasp. 'should have got a bigger truck' I mumble under my breath.

Now it was straining at the gunnel's, and we still had the patio furniture to go on, no way, I thought to myself it ain't all going to fit on, no way. However our optimistic driver kept barking out orders, and things would get shifted around, or rather shunted. I grimaced as the sound of wood on metal could be heard, followed by the ominous twang of something from deep within the pile!


Then the 'ace up his sleeve' was produced, the little tail gate that I had assumed would have to be bolted up could in fact be left down! thus giving a further 3 feet of space. My God this may be possible I thought to myself, come on son...

Thus legend was born, it was all on. I gave the crew around of applause and smiled at the driver through misty eyes. They in turn eyed me with amusement.


I say it was all on, but I lied. All but one item could be transported to the new promise land I had spoke about for so long. Sadly I had to take one of my plants to one side (pictured above) and break the news that it would have to be left behind, perhaps to fall on its own bamboo pole, who knows. Jeremy appeared to take it well, but I could sense a great hurt from deep within his foilage.

Then there was a great whooping and a hollering, canvas sheeting was wrapped around everything and they were off, amid more plumes of smoke. What condition will it arrive I thought to myself? What condition indeed.

Part 2 to follow...