amsterdam (16.11.06 - 19.11.06)

myself and dopey blundered over to amsterdam to visit fred last weekend. the weekend held many great promises: sex shows, hookers, coffee shops, marijuana, shrooms, heineken museum, sex museum, van gogh museum, febo, mckrokets, girls, crazy pianos, trams, bicycles, mail-order russian brides. we were excited.

we landed in holland and found that my bag had been left behind in the uk and was only coming (sorry... arriving) later. anxious to start drinking, we chose to pick it up the next day. we decided to get onto the cancelled half-hour train to the hague... but it was cancelled. so we waited another half hour and hopped on. towards the end of the trip we were confronted by a "special task force team" of ticket collectors. we handed over the tickets. apparently they weren't tickets, but rather stubs saying "14 euro niet gebetalen"... apparently that mean't we had not paid. who the f*ck issues a ticket in a foreign language to say that you haven't paid?... our passports were confiscated and we were fined 42 euro each.

somehow we had hopped on the wrong train and ended up at the wrong station... so therefore needed to catch a tram. we stood outside in the pouring rain... and got on the wrong tram. so we got off. we decided to catch a taxi and eventually got to the place where the russians were saying their last farewell.

we started to drink, but soon enough there were only the three of us left. the russians had hooked up and gone home. goddamn stinky russians. we staggered over to crazy piano's. it was full of macho gay folk. goddamn those macho gay folk when one is rocked and looking for a party full of loose women. we drank bud. we ate pizza. we went home.

the evening wasn't a total disaster however. i managed to discover from an inside source that the girl of my dreams had dumped me because i am "strange". dopey nearly fell off his chair laughing at this. actually though, considering that my latest relationship has recently ended for no apparent reason, this may be something that i need to work on. it's good construstive criticism. if i can just eliminate that "weirdo" part of my character i may someday enjoy a fruitful relationship. after all, i'm just like everyone else... i dream of true love and someone who will forgive me my faults (in my case... my lopsided, plum-like, left testicle).

we woke up a little worse for wear. nevertheless we sprung into action and were in amsterdam by 7.30pm. we headed to an awesome little out-of-the-way coffee shop. we'll call it dumkring... cos that's what it sounded like. ocean's twelve was filmed there. when i rocked up, they thought mission impossible iv was about to be filmed there. i informed them that i was in fact not tom cruise... but i wanted a beer and a smoke. we sat there for about five hours mellowing. the smoke was thick and smooth and dreamy. we left because dopey got horny.

we floated over to the red-light district. dopey couldn't contain himself and excitedly burst into the first window he saw. the smoke must have been stronger than i thought because she was muck. myself and fred shrugged and trotted off to get a beer to kill some time. one beer. two beers... six beers. eventually dopey rocked up with a distant smile on his face. he was obviously still in fantasy land and was mumbling on about thembe, and his african goddess, and the connection they had, and how he was going to rescue her from circumstance. it was time for home... we sensed dopey needed some alone time in a bathroom with a mobile phone (preferably with a vibrate option).

the next day we managed to get into the dam by 2pm. we found a pub and watched the rugger. it was kinda like watching spurs... feel my pain all you south african folk. we found some chinese graze and then had another wander around the red-light district. remarkably dopey had forgotten all about the previous evening. even when we saw his soul-mate modelling in her window he claimed not to recall anything... and to this day he still claims ignorance.

we ambled around the sex museum... the parts with the dogs and donkeys and various other domestic animals made me feel a bit ill (they're freakin DOMESTICATED animals... get a conscience!!!). but it must do wonders for business of the ladies of the night (although they're more like wild animals). we decided we wanted to dance and mingle, so we trammed over to the bulldog. the last time we were there, it offered karaoke and a plethora of beautiful young ladies. this time it offered eighties techno and acne-faced mexican brutes... which was pretty much par for the course on this trip. we had a few beers and a smoke and headed to the hague... lured by the promise of becky and "her great personality". boy were we suckers.

we had a beer in the fiddler. was packed. but we chose to leave. rocked up where becky was staying and cracked a beer. soon we were playing poker with four chips each (kinda like trying to masturbate without a dirty sock... it's just not cricket), and snap (wwwwhhhhyyyy????), and some dodgy darts game that dopey was rubbish at. we eventually called it a day at about 4.30am. oh... and becky sure did have a nice personality.

we awoke fairly late and headed back to london. once back in london we endured a torrid time trying to get home as all the tubes had been part suspended or had delays. relieved to get home, i phoned claire to hear her loving voice. she didn't pick up. i was later dumped by text.

she lives with a broken man
a cracked polystyrene man
who just crumbles and burns
he used to do surgery
for girls in the eighties
but gravity always wins
and it wears him out

egypt diving pics (27.05.06 - 04.06.06)

so i finally managed to get some egypt diving pics up. thanks must go to freddie bastable for his awesome camera work. this was my first time diving, and i was not prepared for how tranquil and calm it would feel under water... it's kinda like rushing around in a slipknot-like world and then gently dipping into a jose gonzalez state of conciousness for a few hours... the big blue.

one night to be confused
one night to speed up truth
we had a promise made
four hands and then away

i started my diving tutorage in dahab... a quaint, bohemian town on the sinai peninsular directly opposite saudi arabia. dahab basically consists of one main pedestrian promenade, flanked by bedouin beach-bar-come-restaurant establishments and dive shops.

both under influence
we had divine sense
to know what to say
mind is a razor blade

our typical day consisted of cruising down to our local beach bar in the morning and checking out the sea conditions, whilst sipping on mango lassies and munching banana and honey pancakes for breakfast. we’d then head off for the morning dive. arrive back at the bar at approx midday. chill out on floor on thick egyptian cushions under the shelter of the brown grass roof eating lunch. head off for the afternoon dive. and then return to the beach bar for a sun-downer / coffee and a strawberry shisha. repeat for eight days.

one night of magic rush
the start a simple touch
one night to push and scream
and then relief

my first few days consisted of watching video's, writing tests, and the occassional open water dive... so i didn't see the other boys for a few days. i eventually managed to join them for a dive on about the third day and soon found out that the only thing that determines whether you are a good diver or not is how much air you suck. hold your breath and stay down for an hour and you are a star. run out of air and force the rest of your dive party up and you are frowned upon. needless to say... i became the leper in the dive colony... nobody wanted to team up with me.

ten days of perfect tunes
the colors red and blue
we had a promise made
we were in love

kirk, despite his huge bulk is very graceful and air-consumption effecient under water... kinda like a giant porpoise. pay careful attention to the text-book bouyancy in the second picture.



freddie is a star diver... he is a qualified trainer dude and can out last anyone on air... even the other dive master dudes... that is the sign of a good diver. fred reminds me of some sort of fast, slim, silver fish.

some picks from dives around dahab:



the last day we dived a world war ii wreck called the thistledorm. it was an awesome dive... despite the compo from the english dive-pro folk onboard. the wreck itself is super eerie...



and you, you knew the hands of the devil
and you, kept us awake with wolf teeth
sharing different heartbeats
in one night

you can read about our entire egypt trip and the search for the meaning of life here.

to call for hands of above
to lean on
wouldn't be good enough
for me now

vote for dopey to stay


as some of you may know, dopey is due to go home to sunny sa for good in december. he's not quite sure why he's going home... but he's going home anyway. it sure is gonna be a shame because who, other than a ferociously boozed dopey, is gonna offer some loving to the horizontally challenged aussie / kiwi / english birds at the grand on a saturday night? who's going to let you know what everybody else earns? who is going to be satan's representative in the uk?

there is a glimmer of hope though... dopey has said that the only way he will change his mind is if we get a petition together with 100 names voting for him to stay. so i beg of you: click on the comment link below and then leave your name with a comment begging dopey to stay. round up all your family, friends, acquaintances, work colleagues, gym partners, casual sex buddies, pets, firemen and fat birds and get them to vote. remember... we need 100 votes.

only we can do this... only we can get dopey to stay.

do it!!!

more birthdays (02.11.06 - 05.11.06)

there have recently been more birthdays to get through... it sure is an expensive time of year. last thursday we went to dinner at some italian (i think) place in wimbledon to celebrate the birthdays of both dopey and grumbies. it was a good night out - we drank beer, we ate garlic bread, we ate food, we ate wiggy's steak (the dude sure was bummed... he left soon after), we had dessert... hmmm. then porto rocked up so we went for a drink at walkabout. we drank loads of jd. we left when it closed. we sure were boozed.

so friday day was a bit of a write off, but i decided to join my old wogen colleagues for miki "bono" iwane's leaving drinks. it sure was good to catch with all the wogenites. the guys are all doing well:

neil - having another baby... everytime he looks at sandy he gets her pregnant
mel - still feuling herself with crushed ego's and barbiturates
dan - still the man with a plan
others - still drunk

so saturday we headed off to see fulham v everton. fulham won 1 - 0. it was quite entertaining but not as exhilerating as watching a pure footballing team like for instance... hmmm... spurs. we then nipped in at zulu's to watch the aussie wales game, grab a boerie roll, and sip a shandy (we sure are hardcore).

saturday night was the night of carver's (30th?) birthday. i don't really know her... but she sure is hot... so i decided to go. in order to have my A game ready, i boozed a lot at home before hand. we also dressed up to the tee - myself and dopes both had smart jackets on and i wore a tie. we arrive at some old dodgy irish pub in wandsworth... hmmm... overdressed then.

kirk wasn't there... he had convinced some bird to drive him home on her scooter to pick up his harmonica and penny whistle so that he could play along with the jittery old irish locals at the "locals-only-irish-band" table. this bird had the typical scooter piss-pot helmet - no face or chin protection.

myself and dopes got a beer... and waited. apparently kirk was looking to pick up as there were number of beautiful mature available women at the party. eventually kirk walks in with the piss-pot helmet on. he cruises up to a group of girls, and in his best afrikaans accent, complete with hand and feet-wiping actions, he starts singing: "stop, stop. ek's a speedkop. ek skryf jou naam op..." it sure was funny... but none of the birds were going to touch him after that. you can catch kirk's performance here (he is the break-dancing policeman):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fx7sHpb00mI

he then made himself some space at the locals-only table and joined in with the band on the harmonica. it was fun for about the first... hmmm... half a second. then the shakey old fogeys started to get mad. kirk being kirk didn't notice and this only got them more mad. it went on and on and it sure was funny. eventually the one old dude had had enough and told him to: "f*ck off".

i was way too drunk and ended up falling asleep for about two hours, while kirk spaded without any luck and dopey chatted to an old irish dude who was buying him jack daniels. i walked home.

on sunday spurs beat chelsea in the league for the first time in 16 years. the end to a perfect weekend - come on you spurs.

wiggy's halloween bday party (28.10.06)


it sure has been a busy birthday period recently, and the latest person to have a bday was wiggy. being on the 27th, he decided to have a halloween party at his house. i was looking forward to meeting his housemate... he had told me sooo much about her... and i was drooling... a tall gorgeous model with a ballerina-type figure who had recently undergone surgey for breast enlargement... there was no way i was going to miss that party.

so i rocked up about 2 hrs late... fashionably late... hoping to make a big entrance with my super cool blue-ghoul mask. dopey let me in and i cruised through into the lounge and kitchen acting suarve and keeping my eyes peeled for anything that resembled this elegant goddess. immediately, this radiant, glowing figure caught my attention. she had her mask on so i couldn't see her (obviously) beautiful face... but she sure did have a body on her... her breasts were bright and perky and her jeans with big outward pocket flaps sure did make her ass look cute. i sauntered over. "hey sexy ass... wanna make monster love?". the figure took a stepped away... and then removed the mask... it was buffy. i sure was shocked... what kinda straight guy wears jeans with pocket flaps?

despite the housemate not being there... it was a super cool party. the food was so good (lamb on the spit) that i've had hobson and buffy badgering me hourly for left-overs. in the end we ended up getting super boozed and dancing the night away. kirk, dave and nils rocked up sometime late into the night with two drunk kiwi girls... a good party is never a great party without a couple of super boozed kiwi's. it sure did go downhill quickley and somewhere along the line we had our own strickly-come-dancing compo... it was bad... super bad... and really embarrasing... especially as my partner ended up being dangerous dave fisher.

happy birthday wiggy... thanks for the food dude.