Legitimate urban survival in Greece.

Everyone’s looking to survive the crisis here in Greece and it’s only fair I enlighten you all to a new alternative way of ‘beating’ those economy blues, literally.

Having spent somewhat of an already distressed experience here in Greece struggling due to one thing or another, it dawned on me that due to a prehistoric legal system and laws which are enforced to protect the rich, and yes, (I use ‘enforced’ in the loosest sense of the word), that there is a way for the average citizen to earn money, legitimately and in light of the current situation here, it’s in abundance too.

‘Beating off’ the Blues…

I found out recently through misfortune obviously. There’s seldom the opportunity for the word ‘fortune’ here at present and unless you believe in Unicorns and your parents work for the State, you’ve got as much chance of finding it as you do Alexander’s Tomb.

Meanwhile, it costs the average citizen 100 to have the Police actually act upon a crime against an individual. So, to my way of thinking we have several options now available to us to help us survive the crisis.

Option 1

Firstly, it goes without saying, mugging the poor.

Let’s face it, it’ll be open season here thanks to previous Governments.

Obviously a special thanks needs to go out to Varoufakis and the clusterf*ck which was Syriza’s opening gambit in Europe, and luckily for us now more than half the population probably qualify including myself, so game on.

Anyone technically who has less than €199.99 is now fair game and qualifies immediately and we don’t discriminate either.

Poor, elderly, immigrants, refugee’s, and the homeless. That’s right, you’re all eligible and unlike most bureaucratic experiences here, we’ll cater to all.

Lets say you only take the €100, there’s still f*ck all they can do about it anyway. It’s genius.

Obviously you’d take the lot just in case they found a cent or two on the way to the station, (unlikely I know, even if the streets were paved with gold, that would have been ripped up and hurled at the Police during the last riots), and then there’s the station experience in itself.

Trust me, you have to be committed to the cause if you want to endure that nightmare, and I’m guessing that for most people, a few hundred Euro’s isn’t going to do it either.

If they have less than a hundred Euro’s, consider it travelling expenses, it all goes in the kitty. It’s like spamming, the more you target, the better the profit.

Technically you could argue that you’re in fact helping lower the crime rate too.

The majority of these kind of crimes clearly go unnoticed for this reason anyway, plus a possible beating and a good mugging not getting reported has to be classed as almost ‘prevention’ by definition. Preventing the crime being reported surely has to count for something…

Suffering a crime and expecting the law to do it’s job… LOL, it just showed how naive my grasp of Greek ‘law was and I’ve been here long enough to have known better. You’d have thought!

Option 2

My favourite option would be this one as it somewhat equals out the current divide between the rich and the poor, and again would not only also help lower the crime rate, but also distribute much needed wealth around the nation as a result.

Robbing the Rich.

Now the core strategy in this case for it to succeed is being thorough. You can’t half-measure you’re way into Papandreou’s house and leave him with a p*ss pot to p*ss in, you have to take the p*ss pot and everything else with it. And I DO mean everything.

Make him sign over the deeds to the property, have a few friends help empty it and ensure that everything from clothes to cleaning products are all gone too.

Ensuring the sum of his value when you leave him out on the street doesn’t exceed €100, you’re in business. What’s he gonna do!?

To help maximise on this opportunity I’m thinking of setting up a legitimate ‘Financial Distribution’ network based in Athens. Hell I reckon you could even turn it into an NGO while you’re at it and get the Government to help fund you so you could then rob them afterwards!

It’s not just genius, it’s legal too!

First we gather up all the hard working people here who have unwillingly helped these cretins stay in power or position as they fleeced us all for years, and then we go house to house en masse.

Tazer, pepper spray and a few metres of rope should do it as far as expenses go for each crew, hire a lorry or two and pick up a couple of  Souvlaki’s on the way home and before you know it, the nations thriving, the Economy’s booming and I’m sat in Tsipras armchair reading Varoufakis’ house deeds as I explain on Papandreou’s mobile to Merkel how we transformed the Nation into the Country it deserves to be.

Then, the fact that people deserving of the money taken have it ensures that they no doubt go out and buy things they’ve been denied for so long, thus reinvigorating the Economy further at the same time.

They don’t call me the ‘Saviour of the Nation’ for nothing you know! Well, actually, they haven’t called it me at all, yet.

‘Enemy of the state’, probably, ‘Interfering foreigner’, I’m guessing, ‘Malaka’, well to be honest, I’d be very disappointed if they haven’t, but still, I have hope yet.

Not to be called Malaka, obviously… I just need to step out my house to assume it’s going out live somewhere, but to hope that in fact the Justice this Nation once had returns to it for it to ‘Protect and Serve’ the public it presently fails to do.

Other ‘great’ ideas to help rejuvenate the Country can be found here :


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The A-Z of #Lovehacks

We all aspire to falling in love, the fairytale dream, the beautiful Princess capturing the adoring gaze of the handsome Prince, the sparkle in their eyes, the sweet innocence to a gaze intent of desire, a chemistry electrifying the very thoughts they share, shortly before the dragon eats him or he f*cks her best friend.
Happily ever after, the End.

Write or wrong?

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A penny for your thoughts…

“In for a penny in for a pound”, so to speak…
Unless you’re in Greece at present, obviously. The present economic state and the current exchange rate make ‘thinking’ a very high risk endeavour to say the least.

Write or wrong?

“A penny for your thoughts” – What a beautiful saying.

It’s optimistic and playful, gentle and sweet, loving and kind whilst being inquisitive and expressing a somewhat genuine and sincere want and desire for a shared glimpse into ones most private and intimate thoughts, wished upon a person we hold dear, a friend, a lover, or even someone we look up to or admire.

Words play such an integral part of our daily lives that at times it’s easy to overlook the beauty of the things we say or write, think or share.

The things we learn, what we learn and who we learn from all shape our minds from an early age and subsequently become the mental Lego to which we build with daily, often without thought, understanding or the real passion from what and where it came from initially.

Experiences that we all battle through during our lives…

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Top 10 #Lifehacks…

So, Top ten lists. Obviously I have to include my own otherwise this wouldn’t be a fair and impartial article and like too many other on-line wonders of modern literature, wouldn’t claim to be anything other than bordering on the absurd and leaning heavily towards the ridiculous.

Write or wrong?

Top ten things YOU need to know, well, that maybe somewhat of an ambiguous statement, to say the least but here we go…

Where to begin. You know how sometimes you have a thought, it leads to others and before you know it something has tickled your fancy. Well this happened to me today.

Before long I was sat with a few notes and my mind was wandering, this lead to this, that lead to that and then before you know it, your sort of chuckling innocently to yourself as momentum builds.

After about ten minutes I was struggling to not laugh out loud and for nearly an hour after than I was struggling to keep my sh*t together and had to come inside before the neighbours probably thought I’d been possessed.

Anyway, long and short of it, it’s fair to try and share this for what it was because…

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Insomnia – I can’t get no sheep.

It’s been a very long hard week. 8 years of misery and none the wiser. One more week of complication, doubt and endless worry for no reason too only to find out the illusion never ends.

The shock of what happened when I first came to Greece still cuts deep, it affected my health, my sanity and my trust in not just people but the state, the ‘system’ and the people who so readily abuse it.

The corruption and the ongoing fight to expose the criminal scum who for over a decade profited at the expense of those they pretended to help never seemed to end, their lies, threats and parasitic behaviour in trying to falsify a truth from their lies ate away at me and those who stood up to them and the fact that we achieved our goal, stood proud and did the right thing still weighs heavy.

This week is the ‘anniversary’ of me being here 8 years, when once full of hope and inspiration, I now sit worn, tired and sick of the low life parasites who feel it their right to abuse those who attempt to do the right thing.

My desire to have some inner peace at some point in my life prevented me from exacting my own revenge, something that on a day may run tired of restraint.

For years I fantasized about the many ways to dispose of such parasites and whilst being highly creative, fantasized about many of my own. These dreams still linger like happy thoughts, caressed into sight by the foolish thought that I’d be free for once of the misery I held back to allow them to still breathe.

Sometimes you spend so much time burying your demons so deep I can only assume I’m on the flipside of hell, looking up at them, trapped and destined to forever torment them, as they now torment me.

Raped by the damned and left to live out the night knowing that the day will never end.

You try to do the right thing and can’t always, you try to do what people hope you to be able to do but they don’t let you, and so you hope to do what you can when you’re denied the ability to do anything and it’s still never enough.

Sleep sometimes is the only place I am free of them. Death being the only other choice available, one I longed for these years.

A darkness so tainted would never leave, beckoning me forth into its midst, wishing me clear of mind and soul.

I resisted, time and time again only to question the purpose, family, friends and my dear cats keeping me strong, often blind to the hatred and pain tearing me apart inside.

Those who helped tried where many knew not as the spectacle played itself out, week after week, year after year.

The charade ran on, the circus grew large and the effort to keep focused ravaged me and those close.

Somewhere within burnt a fire forged from those who raised me to be better than those I fought, the crippling cost eased by the slow satisfaction of the truth being set free and yet no solace ever came, no peace helped shed the weight nor did the shackles fall away.

Then came the hurt, the loss to all I knew, what I had and what I hoped for and the pieces of my spirit ripped apart long to heal.

When that is taken from you, life eats away at you, slowly like the seconds on the clock, echoing out in the night as you lie awaiting the dawn.

If you could just rest, be at peace and relax, to in some way hide away the turmoil, the worries and the pain would be some consolation but it never comes.

To have them torture your mind, hour after hour is beyond cruel. Day after day, week after week and so forth pushes you to places feared.

There is no medication to give you back what is lost, there are no words, no feelings to replace or to reaffirm yourself to who you once were and only now when you see beyond where you started, the end flicker into view.

Our mind is capable of much greatness until we lose control of what we thought we knew.

Life evolves, people come and go and so we dance the dance again.

Faith once flowed freely as did a joy I know I had. Unrecognisable now for the scar I have in it’s place but healing slowly with each day, with each moment I try to enjoy a little more, knowing how quickly it may fade.

Enjoy the comfort of the bed while you can, as it either wraps it’s heavenly arms around you or suffocates you as you wrestle with your mind, flitting restlessly from thought to thought.

Inspiration gives us fight, a cause to the effect, as do the people we seek to unite with on the path we chose to walk.

Some days the path is lonely, not a footprint to be seen, other days may come a figure, one we hope share our route.

To each one we chose to hold dear, we leave a piece of ourselves.

Some treasure what we give, others break without due thought.

Where one sweet dream may end, a nightmare may begin…

We all tackle our pain in ways we may not understand, hoping that in whatever way it comes, it comes. Anything as long as it comes.


Two years ago the tunnel finally showed its light, a distant glow drawing near and such despite the rope hanging round my neck, slowly but surely I managed to step free.

Focus shifted and the pain slowly ebbed, just the thoughts still catching me unaware, less and less, but still aware.

Creativity if you have it is like a beacon in the gloom, lighting all before.

You can never control this, never predict when it comes and how long it will last, what triggers it or anything else to drive you from your shadows, but when it comes embrace it, long for it and feel in throughout for it may not come again.

I awoke a while back, but now I can see once more.


2008 – 2016 : Fighting to expose *ACTUP in Greece.

Nearly 20 years of state sponsored abuse, malpractice, theft, bullying and treating people like filth to exploit the HIV/Aids sector and illegally pretend to be Doctors and then persecuting myself and those who stood up to their fucking diabolical tyranny.

*You only still draw breath for I was too weak to do what I should have.

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Writers block, British Rail and streaking around London with a sausage up your bottom!

Ever have a day where you just can’t write. I have, it’s the main reason for writing this.

Not sure where or why, what the subject might be because that’s what happens some days. One word follows another and before you know it you have a sort of alphabet train forming, one word from the next, stopping intermittently as it gains momentum, or derails.

Obviously on days when you get creative block you can associate that with a ‘British Rail’ sort of mindset. Thoughts all patiently queued up and going nowhere fast. Thankfully your mind doesn’t then charge you £2.50 for a cup of hot p*ss, but the principles very much the same.

A few times I was unfortunate enough to get something they referred to as ‘Tea’. Honestly, I can’t prove it but I’m not so sure they don’t just pipe it straight from the Urinals, and some days it wasn’t even that appetizing. They should maybe just sell hot rain. It’s not like there’ll be a shortage either.

Most of the time it’s the rain that stops the actual service anyway so the least they could do is give you a mug full of the stuff while you’re wondering why you even hoped to get anywhere nearer your destination on what is clearly a water soluble means of transport.

I’m not kidding either. In the UK we are gifted with a weather system so cunning it can bring a whole nation to it’s knees, several times a day and without effort too.

To assist us in our plight to moan daily, we also have the worlds most expensive and sh*ttest train service in existence to reinforce out commitment to the cause, ‘British Rail’.

For years I honestly thought it did run on one f*cking rail, but that actually implies that it runs.

After years of being a commuter and travelling by telepathy I did see that it did have what roughly looked like two tracks running in parallel, one would assume to get you to the other f*cking end at least…

I remember fondly one glorious summer day, standing in the ranks of other p*ssed off, wet, cold and miserable commuters, all hoping that Aliens would turn up having taken pity on us, and ask us why we’d been stood idly, bitching to ourselves about something that might or might not appear at any given time and take us possibly somewhere roughly near where we want to go.

“It’s called a train, we get on them to go from A – B, sometimes.” – we reply in Unison, all hopeful that the Aliens will at least share their technology with us and spirit us away.

Meanwhile, back on the platform we waited for the ‘train’… If you were lucky it might even be the train you want too.

More often than not, so many trains had been delayed or cancelled that by the time one did turn up people would just throw themselves on regardless of where it was going.

Sometimes it was just easier to turn up for work 3 hours late having walked 20 km from f*ck knows where because you couldn’t stand the excitement of hoping your train would actually turn up.

I know it’s harsh but a lot of people do use the trains to commit suicide, there were quite a few times when for a change, the train would be delayed due to someone hurling themselves in front of the train but it does get you like that some days.

Not that it’s a laughing matter either, it’s not. The trauma for the Driver and those unlucky enough to bear witness is quite tragic never mind the personal loss to those yet to be informed.

Plus you have to be committed. Some people are probably more likely to die of old age well before a train were to come along. Plus, it’d be quite an ordeal if you were all geared up to throw yourself under the next train and it was delayed due to someone beating you to it… Bloody Typical.

Since privatization though, costs have gotten so bad I’m surprised British Rail don’t charge you extra for it.

I must admit it has been a while since I was last in the UK, so I suspect that they might by now.

I remember once being on a tube train when it had to stop on my way back from a conference in London, on what must have been the hottest day that year, everyone trapped like canned sardines with at least two armpits in your face and someone else’s boner in your pocket.

It wasn’t pretty. After half an hour the boner would ease off and you’d get an armpit change which was nice but other than that I can just remember thinking about all the times I’d chuckled at the films where in parts of the world people all sit on the tops of the trains.

How I envied them this day.

Even to be sat on the roof in the rain would be nice, it the damned thing actually moved in any particular direction, then our prayers would surely have been answered.

They weren’t. Thankfully it was so hot no one needed to go to the bathroom as the days fluids were now already steaming from everyone’s nether regions and places where sweat shouldn’t sweat. If you were really unlucky, the person who’s armpit was being slowly fed to you would have already quenched your need for more secondhand sweat as it trickled down their matted heads and dripped of their nose onto your shirt.

Don’t thank me for the mental picture, you really had to be there to appreciate what true misery was that day. I suspect there were probably quite a few people who were violated without knowing it. I know I was.

Thankfully we don’t get unintentionally groped in the confines of our own minds, sure, we might be busy elsewhere in our deepest and wildest thoughts, but for all intents and purposes we often have to pretend we’re actually listening to someone prattle away about something you’d only ever care about at gun point.

Lately I do it a lot. It’s not all bad, and I lovingly use the term ‘bad’ in a deviantly good way, as some is very delicious, some is just outrageous, and then (if my mums reading this), some is of course angelic…Nice puppies… Θ)

So how can we get creative block? Just follow these simple steps…

Like we know!? Like we want it? Like we could stop it…

Haven’t suffered much myself thankfully, partly I feel because my mind is easily ruined and prone to wandering quite free, abstraction often leading it by the hand on a quest to find mischief, and partly because creativity sometimes features more than other times in your life.

Whatever the reason, you have to just roll with it when it comes.

Sometimes I look for signs which may have inspired me or which have lead me to a ‘higher plane of conscious thought’, or some other less pretentious cliché whereby you feel in the zone. But there is none.

It come’th and it go’eth as it f*cking feel’eth somedays…

It comes down to this really.

How dare your mind not do as it’s told?

Mine it appears, has sporadic outbreaks, (so I’m told). Not sure how they come about, not sure when, but if I’m lucky something will trickle down and tickle my fancy.

And give me an idea or two.

I knew one guy who used to insist on wearing nothing but ladies undercrackers and wore a trilby before he wrote anything of note. Of course he is a fictional character and something that we can always exploit when needed. The surreal, fiction, and or in some case, reality, always ever present and awaiting invitation from our minds.

There may well be a man somewhere wearing a trilby and a pair of knickers and in fact the more I think about it, there will be.

Definitely. But does he write, good question? Yes, of course he does as I mentioned that before. The devil is in the detail so I’m told.

The new trend is the Dead Celebrity thing, quite popular this last year or so from what social media would have us believe. Can’t see it catching on but what do I know.

While Keith Richards still defies science and nature it’s too tempting to think that we’ll all live forever, but until that day comes, there is hope for the rest of us mere mortals.

Seems like stopping smoking and giving up drugs will be the death of him. Probably why unlike the others who all relied on sleeping pills and medicinal drugs to ebb away when they least expected to, a full compliment of all the bad sh*t your dealer can lay hands on, pumped vigourously into his system 24 hours a day is the key to his longevity.

Prince was this year’s shock. A true musical genius, versatile, powerful, and looked great in Purple.

Not a word from the Queen either.

I always knew she was a hard bitch.

All that waving to strangers has turned her into an emotional void. She’s like a pale shrunken version of a fairytale Elvira, heartless through and through. Those Corgi’s just remind me of Mr.Burns from the Simpsons when he threatens to release the hounds.

Runs in the family too, all those beheadings and suspicious French motor ‘accidents’ turn you that way after a while I suppose.

I don’t suppose Fergie helped either, ever since she left the Black Eyed Peas Will I.AM and HAR.R.1E have never been the same.

That’s Royals for you though. Thankfully they must have gagged Prince Andrew because you rarely see that useless scrounger much these days. All those Theatre productions and no tights, and not that it matters being gay’s much more common these days but I feel ‘we’ the public would like to know one way or another as the debate never seems to end.

It will be a sad day for the treasury when the old dear pops it. Boy will those f*ckers suddenly earn their wages..

Commemorative EVERYTHING’s.

It’ll be like Jesus rising from the dead – Queen on a rope, inflatable Queens, a million different stamp collections and of course the freshly revitalised Royalist fanfare all scrambling desperately for their 15 minutes of fame.

It will literally be like the worlds gone mad.

Who can write the best Eulogy, who can narrate the best Royal anecdote, and who’s got the biggest royal joke… Even people who can’t stand them will be rushing out to top up their fake tears and gleefully recount how there’ll never be another just like… What’s her name? Ah yes, Elizabeth, I only know because I have a few coins from the UK still scattered about the house otherwise you just tend to know her as Queenie, or the Queen, or Ma’am I suppose.

Personally I have her down as Liz, only when we text each other or she emails me obviously, you know we keep it low key.

When we first exchanged details back in the day, I had her down as ‘the Queen’ but this only led to confusion if Elton John or Freddie Mercury were to call, so to make it easy I just changed them all.

Now if Liz, Kermit or Nancy ring I know who’s who. Sadly, Kermit is no longer with us but I did take the liberty to upgrade Kermit, back to Kermit. Slight oversight at the time when I renamed Freddie. (lol)…

But you know what, I bet if Prince were alive on the day, he’d say a few nice words for the old battleaxe. Probably bang out a tune or two as well…

To be fair to Prince Charles though, he must have the patience of a god damned Saint not to have pushed her off the royal balcony for so long. Watching his legacy crawl further away from his grasp as each new year passes. Tragic. But funny.

Still, it’s not like he went mad or anything obvious at least… Prince Philip setting the bar quite high in all fairness with the crazy stakes, bless him so you’d have to go some to top that lunatic.

He’s like our own Royal Donald Trump. We should parachute him into troubled parts of the world with an endless supply of buckshot… There’s no nationality he can’t sort out with a blunderbuss and a foghorn.

If Ethnic cleansing were a household brand, you can guarantee it’d have his face on the logo…

If Royals have taught us anything, it’s that if you can get away with it for long enough then you’re clearly doing something right for people not to hang you in the streets or part your head from your shoulders like the French used to do.

Back then the French had backbone.

Back in the UK they go and vote in Bin Laden as Mayor of London and everyone’s losing their sh*t. His first act was to outlaw Pork and introduce a new freshly minted Popadum as currency whilst declaring the M25 be converted to Europe’s largest Mosque and Big Ben face East.

Well, he might as well have from how people are carrying on. I saw a great piece covering everyone most hated internet troll, Katie Watkins and how she said she’d streak through London with a Sausage up her bottom if he the current Mayor was voted in.

I’m not saying that’s what swung the vote in his favour, but you can only look at the evidence before you.

I hope it’s one of those huge German sausages too. Hopefully shut her up for a while at the very least. Seems she’s not only intent on grabbing the headlines at any cost but she tries to put us off the humble sausage as well, the bitch is relentless.

In keeping with everyone’s stereotypical racial hatred, fuelled by the ‘now’ imminent Terrorist threat induced by this Politically correct nonsense, I suppose it only fair that the unfortunate sausage be one rigged to blow. A nice touch would be the Mayor flicking the switch…

Lighten up people. If anyone wants to stand up for London and take that job on board, good luck, the fact that he’s a Muslim or a Buddhist, or a Christian should make no difference whatsoever.

Across the pond, people are voting in droves for Donald Trump so put this sh*t into perspective for God’s sake!!!

The fact he got Katie Watkins to feel the need to stick a sausage up her bottom is one more reason to like the guy!


That’s kudos…

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Testing Google AI cars and a trip to the Police station.

So, I decided to test drive one of those new automated Google smart cars you see driving about these days.

Well, to be perfectly honest I haven’t actually seen one as such, I read a story online recently and figured there must be quite a few about though.

Chances are I wouldn’t be able to spot the difference anyway, well, maybe. Not sure how programmers would tackle trying to set up Artificial Intelligence to handle driving around Athens, but I suppose if we can get a rover to navigate around on Mars anything’s possible.

Personally I think the easiest solution would be to strap a bouncy castle to a Quad bike and cut the brakes, from what I’ve seen, it has much the same effect as what you see as the ‘norm’ anyway!

Parking would be an all together more problematic issue as what constitutes as somewhere to ‘park’ in Athens is a law unto itself anyway. I’ve been here quite a while now and I can’t understand the rules which govern what ‘is’ and ‘isn’t’ somewhere suitable to park, so I can see an uncertain future of automated cars, never being able to stop as travellers and hopeful travellers hurl themselves into passing vehicles.

I decided to embrace the future, today and do my little bit to help improve the transport system of tomorrow, this morning, before lunch…Θ)

So, I had a great morning and got too see some of Athens in a whole new light at the same time. Not sure who the guy sat behind the driving wheel was either but clearly having a BAD day as he had a real attitude problem from the minute I got in the car.

As we proceeded around the streets of Athens, I must admit I wasn’t entirely convinced that this new ‘AI’ driving experience was going to be a success. Twice the vehicle stopped for no apparent reason before the guy next to me started shouting and screaming at me like I had control over the car!? Idiot.

The second time he actually got out the car, walked round to my side of the vehicle, opened the door and started pointing and waving his arms all over the place like a lunatic, so I’m not sure what that was all about.

After about 5 minutes and when a number of other cars started tooting, he eventually got back in and we proceeded on our journey.

My first complaint is that it would be nice for these AI vehicles to not already have someone in the vehicle. I appreciate the whole carpooling argument, but at least warn people first. Having just gotten use to the Greek Taxi’s sharing your ride, I assumed that these new ‘smart cars’ shared the same space saving principles and so didn’t make a fuss at the time.

I don’t mind them having an Inflatable driver, you know, something to make you feel relaxed or to give you a sense of being chauffeured around, but they need to pick the people with a little more thought.

Unfortunately his English wasn’t all that good so we developed a sort of ‘language barrier’ between us which didn’t help. He must have been a foreigner because nothing he said made any sense whatsoever.

Having lived in other Countries in Europe I had come across this before, thankfully my Greek’s now to a level where I can still sound like an idiot and not make any sense to anyone whatsoever, so I sympathized with the guys frustration.

Apart from the language problem though and whatever was else was troubling him, the car seemed to perform well and at times it actually felt like someone was driving the car.

My second observation and possible complaint was that there didn’t appear to be any way of plotting or adjusting your course/route. There was an iPhone hooked up to the dashboard and clearly plugged into the vehicle but whenever I tried to change the radio station, modify the SatNav or use any of the functions the guy next to me just went crazy. He even slapped my hand on one occasion. How rude.

In fairness, maybe the language barrier prevented me from being able to relay my instructions to the navigation guy but even when I resorted to pointing left and right when I wanted the car to turn, nothing happened.

Another slight criticism is to make the fact that it’s a new AI test car stand out a little more and to make it much more obvious. There were no stickers, markings or symbols synonymous with Google, it being an AI test car or anything to differentiate it from a normal car.

I suppose that’s why they are test cars. But still, seems like quite a big oversight when you think about it.

Anyway, after a nice 15 minute drive around Athens the car dropped me off at the Police station in Attiki.

It wasn’t my first choice of destination but the navigation (as mentioned) has a lot to be desired anyway.

The Police weren’t as friendly as I hoped they would be, not sure why they even got involved other than maybe Google hasn’t informed them yet to the fact that their station is the only drop off point in Athens.

Well, that was a tense little affair. Sense of humour when dealing with the Police is clearly not a bonus.

For a long time the British Embassy recommended that people abroad don’t carry their passports around with them for security reasons etc, so, bearing in mind that I don’t make the rules, proceed as you will.

As a result of renewing mine recently and still having my old one around, I figured it’d be a smart move carrying this around in case I still needed to actually have to produce my ID, with the intention that if they needed to see my new one I could always bring it in if required.

Obviously swapping my photo with a picture of Donald Trump and changing my name to Alexander Merkel didn’t go down too well but at the time, it was funny.

No matter how much I urged them to ‘always see the bright side of life’… I mean, nothing. Even when I hummed it in a cheeky manner, nothing.

Lead balloon…

I know it’s not mandatory to have a sense of humour when you work for the Police, but surely the job has it’s days. Just my luck, it wasn’t today.

Even when I was in Germany and accidentally came across a couple of Officers patrolling by the Black Forest, even they saw the funny side to me asking if Goose stepping and The Ministry of Silly walks shared any Nazi roots.

Well, I almost got a smile. I laughed anyway, desperately hoping it was contagious – but it wasn’t. The only things flashing through my mind to try and make light of the situation were Blackadder, Football, WW1, and the picture of the Madonna with the fallen boobies from Allo Allo. None of which were likely to induce a positive vibe to the discussion thus far.

It could have been the fallen Madonna with the boobies, I can never remember.

I just know it involved a Knockwurst sausage!

Humour’s individual, I laughed, inside, briefly anyway.

Turns out Germans don’t understand British humour, Who knew!?

I think there’s more to it than this to be fair but it’s subject for a much more serious debate elsewhere.

So, back in the dungeons of Attiki, I bided my time and planned my escape…

Well, waited, bored and confused by the days events.

After several hours they released me.

No apology or anything.

So, it was now mid afternoon and I needed to get home. I’d had enough excitement for one day and felt that the Gods were now conspiring against me.

Unbeknown to me Athens has also adopted that free bike policy which is so popular in Amsterdam, and other European countries where pikies and chav’s don’t live.

This would never be popular in the UK. Well, popular it might be but after the opening day you’d just see convoys of lorries piled high with bicycles being driven by grinning toothless pikies as they made their way to the scrap merchants the length and breadth of Britain.

So, in Greece, game on. It took a while to find something suitable to cut through the chains but eventually I succeeded in acquiring a bike. Seems a bit pointless having a bike share program and padlocking your bike to a lamppost, but anyway.

“Elbow Grease” my nan would say as she shot off the kitchen worktop and slid out the kitchen and into the cucumber patch.

So, I’d only gotten 2 feet before the very same Policemen who’d stood watching me cut through the chains grabbed me by the shirt.

Blah blah blah he said in his best Official voice, blah blah blah I replied.

He looked at me, even less amused than our previous dealings had allowed for and whilst manhandling me off the bike, proceeded to try and drag me towards the Police station.


“Someone’s going to steal that bike” was all I could keep thinking. This idiot Policeman has just left a perfectly good bike lying in the street and has taken it upon himself to harass me, again.

“Why this is an outrage. I have rights. I’m an EU citizen you know… Is it cause I is Black…” I screamed…

I woke up on the cold floor of what I can only assume was my prison cell. It was dark, the air was thick and the room smelt of Strawberry Hubba Bubba.

Hmmmm, haven’t had that since I was at school I thought to myself, briefly, before taking stock of my new predicament.

The room was small, or I was very big.

It was too dark to tell which was which and I had no reference points so I assumed that maybe I was indeed still the same size I always have been and resisted the urge to panic.

F*ck it, time to panic. Why the hell was I thinking about Hubba Bubba at a time like this I wondered to myself.

And why was I locked up…?

It slowly came back to me or at least bits did as I fought to regain my composure.

Never write a blog post when you’re minds brutally corrupted by thoughts it can’t control…

Moral of the story : Life.


That sh*t f*cks you up…

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