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Am I becoming a petrol head, I wonder? If I’m not astride a throbbing Fat Boy… Hang on that’s a bad start; it sounds a bit gay. The point is, having had a driving licence for twenty years, it’s only recently that I’ve taken any interest whatsoever in cars. Take Belgrade Automobile Museum last month,…
You’ve got to live life at open throttle. Only yesterday I popped into Dublin town centre without an umbrella. Yes, I know – talk about living on the edge. As squalls ravaged the streets, a grim foreboding stole across me; I realised I was trapped in a pub with two bibulous Irish women. How could…
There is a science to luck. I mean, take those so impoverished that they have to share a helicopter with another family. Tragic, eh? They could be deemed unlucky in life. But odds can be coaxed and cajoled. Guys, write this down. The following is a tried and tested method – devised by me in…
It’s Not All Sunshine And Sand - a trucker’s wet dream. ‘Shall I plug your book, Paul?’ I asked him last summer on Madonna’s MDNA tour. ‘Who said that?’ he yelped, squinting myopically from ten feet away. Even with his glasses on, he’s as close to being blind as it’s legally permissible for a truck…
The touring season has begun again in earnest; a pantheon of feted legends are soon to be gracing stages Europe-wide. Springsteen goes out at the end of the month; Bon Jovi’s trucks head down to Sofia (Bulgaria) in a couple of weeks; and I’ve ended up tottering about for superstar Beyonce. Yes, obviously I had…
‘Steep?’ said Lewis, with ingenuous bemusement. ‘It’s fucking vertical. No wonder you can’t get any purchase, Barnaby – those shoes are suited to a dance floor, not mountain climbing.’ I ignored the snub, and we continued dandering impishly along the old Fiat test track in Turin. Now this is a genuine scoop. Google “tourism…
‘More roasted songbirds,’ an Elizabethan dignitary might once have bellowed. Mauve of cheek, with honey-glazed venison protruding from his pendulous jowls, he cuts quite the powerful figurehead. But this is only the hem of the garment, so to speak. Eels seethed in wine are brought to the table by a curtsying maid, her skin the…
I’ve been thinking about punishment this week. No, not devising a ladder rack large enough to dislocate Namibians; more like dwelling on that San Marino Torture Museum. It was a grizzly experience, and I’m chagrined by the depths of human cruelty. Don’t get me wrong. Leaning marginally to the right, I wouldn’t lose any sleep…
San Marino – a tax haven. Some come here to shop duty-free, others to coo at this charming medieval jewel rising atop Mount Titano. The state is the oldest republic in the world. Well, you can Google its history, dimensions and relative recent UNESCO status in 2008. But let me tell you that this city-state…
A week-long binge in England would have consequences. Fried to the tonsils, youths would without doubt overdo things; policemen would be biffed left, right and centre; ASBOs would be liberally dished out like toilet paper. Biffing policemen, I might add, should be done sparingly, if at all – viz. in emergencies, such as interfering with…
