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Prepare to raise an eyebrow. Or, should you wish to pip Roger Moore, by all means raise both. Simultaneously. You will perhaps be surprised to learn that a degree of fitness is required to drive a truck. There, I’ve said it. No, nothing to do with the hefty rigours of manipulating sixteen gears and assisting…
What have the French ever done? Apart from give us Brigitte Bardot, obviously. And produce Chantal Thomass, creator of the first babydoll negligee for daywear in 1972. Well, and dream up supremely apposite words for my blog, such as lingerie, brassiere and femme fatale. Oh bugger, I’d forgotten about Debussy and Baudelaire, too. Let me…
That was unusual. I woke earlier this week to the sound of two fellows mowing the roof. Yes, I did say the roof. Why mention it? Because the building in question, to follow on prosaically from last week, is allegedly France’s biggest indoor arena – The Palais Omnisport de Paris-Bercy. Yes, Walking With Dinosaurs rolls…
‘That’s why they get this boat,’ said the ship’s barman. ‘So they can behave like arseholes.‘ The Viking Line XPRS nudged out of Helsinki – a market town founded in 1550, currently celebrating its 200th year as capital – bound for Tallinn, Estonia. Outside the windows lay rocky, low-lying islets; inside lay karaoke. ‘I don’t…
Position Title: Assistant Lead Driver Arena Show Location: European continent Date Posted: October 18th, 2012 Employer: Koninklijke Saan. Koninklijke Saan (Royal Saan) is a Dutch logistics service provider with the head-office near Amsterdam. With their business unit Event Logistics, Royal Saan build a strong partnership with several clients over the last decade. Royal…
Behind a squat, ugly dog – all muscle and jowls – strode its owner. This was to be Rambo’s tattooist, recommended by a Copenhagen barman the night before. A key was turned, we entered a dingy affair near Parken stadium and Rambo rolled up his trouser legs. Thigh-high Skull Tattoos Besmirching of the skin?…
‘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 be…
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 not…
‘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 city…
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 proofreaders?…
