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