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