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‘Nowadays the feeding has become a nightly spectacle,’ I had read in the Lonely Planet Brazil guide. All I had to do was reach the Santuário do Caraça. The staff spoke no English when I arrived, and all the literature was in Portuguese. But I somehow gleaned that the fabled tray of food would...
Drum roll please. That human blot Eunuch, his brain like a buzz-saw, has typed up a guest blog. And, perhaps foolishly, I’ve agreed to publish it unabridged. Few people so far have managed such an undertaking – Dad, Big Don, Wrecker, Namibian and Surfy Steve being notable exceptions – yet the winsome Eunuch has...
‘You want to go somewhere?’ giggled Barbara, as we kissed passionately in her parents’ porch. ‘I can take you to a motel if you like.’ It was a little after midnight. She reversed a black Peugeot through the security gates, its engine purring contentedly on sugar cane ethanol. And we squealed off through the...
Don’t, whatever you do, scroll down. We’re going to play a little game. Now, how good would you say you are at spotting written mistakes? Jeepers, you’ve scrolled down already? Disqualify yourself and spend your time doing something more interesting like watching television. For those that are left, do you fancy yourselves as...
It’s easy to spot tourists in Italy. We’re the ones ordering lasagne and cappuccino at lunchtime. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but you might notice a slight snicker suffuse the waiter’s features. And it’s no good saying jingoistically, ‘Look here, Luigi, didn’t we own Italy once?’ We didn’t; I’ve already tried that line....
Down on the Somerset Levels, in a hamlet named Stathe, lives a paragon of virtue; a man regarding his peerless body as a temple. ‘They’ve got a brilliant new machine down the gym,’ he says languorously. ‘It does everything – chocolate, crisps…’ What am I doing here in the West Country? Well, I had...
I nurse my pint of Sprite – a guest ale, not the lemonade – and take in the rampant stallion before me. Pervy Ray brushes a 63-year-old hand through thinning grey hair, takes a sip from his glass and proceeds as interviewee. ‘You’ve heard of The Sex Maniacs Ball, of course?’ he asks rhetorically....
Pervy Ray, as the nickname suggests, is indeed a pervert. Licentious to the core, you might say. ‘Photo for the blog?’ he asks. ‘Hang on then, I’ll take my trousers off and get my knob out. I’m happiest with my knob out, you know.’ Are you wondering how I, a priggish, naive young musician,...
Trudging off to see some mummies in an ancient Irish church – the embalmed variety, not vulnerable single mothers – I get distracted by a sign. “Jazz 4-6.30pm”, it reads. I’m in like a shot. Or rather, I’m barred by one of those enormous bald men that usually stand outside discos looking unapproachable. ‘You...
“Leopard back that way,” yelled a safari driver. He gesticulated wildly, and Nelson wrestled with the stick, struggling to engage any gear in his 40-year-old Jeep. Grinding and clunking abominably – second gear was painfully absent from the box – we turned around noisily, enveloping Yala National Park in a cloud of acrid, noxious...
