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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The Official A – Z of love and matters of the heart.

The Official A – Z of love.

1 – Introduction.
2 – Summary.

A – Aardvark.
B – Booty.
C – Contract.
D – Do stuff.
E – Elephant in the Room.
F – Fourplay.
G – Garden / Guns
H – Habits.
I – Initiative.
J – July.
K – Kisses
L – Legally binding.
M – Mon Amour.
N – No Excuses.
O – Oops I did it again.
P – Passion.
Q – Question Everything.
R – Romance.
S – Sextoys.
T – Trust or Private Detective?
U – Understanding.
V – Vajazzle.
W – Work.
X – How to deal with being Dumped.
Y – Yeti.
Z – Zzzzz, bedtime.

3 – Conclusion.

1 – Introduction :

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.

10 litre Triple chocolate Haagen Daas and roll the credits.

Of course, they don’t mention this in the nursery tales but we all know what’s really going on if you read between the lines.

Little Bo Peep, Mary had a little lamb, Hunpty Dumpty, all candidates for heartbreak, drug addiction and a life of repressed sexual energy spent watching Jermy Kyle and thinking to yourself “if that bucktoothed red neck hillbilly can find love, then why can’t I”?

Well, to be fair, they probably set the bar pretty low to start with so don’t worry about it. Everything will be alright.

All the films, the books and the quasi-real soap operas society inflicts on us do nothing to help either, painting unrealistic expectations on us all in the hope that we meet our Mr or Ms ‘perfect’. They don’t exist.

Pretty woman, You’ve got mail, The Godfather and Debbie does Dallas to name but a few, and we’re still no nearer to unlocking the secrets to finding love.

For years I wanted to hunt down Hugh Grant for destroying men in the eyes of women the world over, remember in the 90’s, that f*cker was everywhere. Having travelled about since and met a few women of the ‘world’ it’s amazing to see how many people expect you to have floppy hair, a slight stutter and be a complete twat if your British.

Thankfully his reign of terror came to an end and the real people within each of ourselves can be free once more. I suppose for women it’s not quite so bad as unless there is that all ‘fatal’ female hatred of a woman you just can’t stand, you’ll always like the shoes or their make up or some liberated ideal to which the writers, directors and the rest of the crew force into a very ‘real’ and ‘liberated’ womanly image to feature in ‘Cosmopolitain’ or any of the other Magazines to which they churn out stereo typical archetypes.

I love it but the same happens to us all regardless of gender.

Boy meets girl, girl meets different boy and boy boy fall in love. It’s the world we live in, no fairytale, no illusion, it’s life.

More often than not there’s just some fat bird munching her way through another cheese pie, sat with a lipstick smothered frog wondering what the hell went wrong and yet no one spares a thought for the poor frog apart from Sir David Attenborough!

Elsewhere, there’s a probably a small Romantic in all of us, if you’re lucky, there’s possibly one in you right now, and if you’re even luckier, not that small either.

Us men, most just aspire to be seen as the Romantic type. For many, buying the ‘missus’ a new Hoover, treating her to a fish supper and a pint at the local equates to “where for art thou woman” and many aren’t even that lucky!

For the rest of us it’s minefield of incomprehensible random madness, daddy issues and PMT. Just joking, it’s rarely random!

Not that women have it any easier. I’m a guy so I’m biased and the inner lesbian in me can’t even try to explain the many flaws that men, unlike myself share.

I happen to be one of the few men with little or no flaws so I’m told, by my mum, my psychotherapist, her psychotherapist, the care workers and that guy in the mirror.

Meanwhile, sex, a sandwich and power tools and most men are happy, put them all together in the same day and he’s not going anywhere fast. Make him feel like he actually does know what the hell your thinking about once in a while and you’ve got a ‘lifer’.

Increase the amount of sex and OR food, and the results improve substantially. Power tools by now are quite likely irrelevant at this stage but make sure he has them in supply for when the fridge is a little less well stocked or it’s that time of the month. You know, the one where you go crazy!?

Hardly a fair analogy I know, but after all that we go through, I think you’ll agree that the term FAIR died a long time ago, plus you shouldn’t allow the fridge to become so barren…Have a word with yourself! Are we living in the dark ages woman? – LOL

*Feminist hate mail to the following email address :


It’s obviously a playful tease as not all women suffer once a month, some never change for the better/worse (you decide as applicable) and subsequently are crazy or f*cked up as the ‘norm’.

For many though, we men are to blame. I say we, but it’s quite likely to be that idiot father of yours! Quite probably indirectly too, if we really look into the problem.

It most likely started when your mother opened her legs and fell victim herself and this hereditary lapse in judgment can be traced all the way back to Adam and that snake of his.

I’m sure studies have been made on the subject, thesis’ written and the results will long be debated over by Scholars and Academics alike as they all fight to justify their own existence. Oh yes, the ‘Bible’.

I prefer the other book, Romeo and Julian, (see what I did there) Politically Insane world we live in these days and it wouldn’t be long before some jumped up do-gooder would probably try and certify me as a neo fascist for not including same-sex or alternative lifestyles into the equation.

Plus, just think of all the Hollywood rehashes they could churn out instead of having to risk any new ideas, again.

Spiderman, Amazing Spiderman, Slightly Camp Spiderman, Spiderman and Batman do Vegas, you get the jist…The potential is huge, well, within the confines of a ‘niche’ gay super hero loving community at least!

I’m not suggesting that you have to be ‘gay’ to enjoy a good homo-erotic superhero film either, but it probably would help.

Let’s face it, we’re all the product of things we fail to understand, and quite probably broken in our own unique and highly loveable way. (My excuse).

Obviously this doesn’t apply to all. Some of us are just inherently broken from the beginning, usually because of another woman to be honest so be careful in blaming the ‘man’ for his flaws as you women so readily do, it’s probably not his fault as some bitch already beat you to him and ruined him well before you lured him into the trap!!! – Joke!

We’re f*cking idiots from birth. Some never change, some you can’t change and some you wish you could change well before their warranty is up.

In the US it’s seems common practice to shoot your betrothed in the head when they become tiresome. Sometimes before they even become tiresome, not sure what the etiquette is but it does seem to be quite popular.

Personally I think this approach is a little extreme, but in a Nation with that many lunatics at home with weapons ranging from handguns to holster mounted mini-Nuclear grenade launchers, it’s hard to imagine that so many people could all be wrong, surely!?

Beauty, thankfully is indeed in the eye of the beholder and so love is something we all want, hope or have lost at some point in our lives and is at least something we all can truly wish for.

If you don’t believe me I say this : Donald Trump, yes. Even that f*cker managed to reproduce so do have hope. Unless it turns out that he’s the result of a lab experiment, (which I sincerely hope so), there’s more than hope for us all.

For those lucky enough not to have lost their love, then it’s your contribution to helping others who hope to share what you have which allows people like myself and the millions the world over to seek beyond ourselves and to similarly one day ensnare, sedate and capture someone precious ourselves.

Hopefully this guide will go a long way in enlightening yourself to the intricate world of Love.

2 – Summary :

If you’re like me, (get help), and secondly you’ll be keen to know that Romance isn’t dead!

Sure, it’s probably metaphorically on a life support machine, is deaf and dumb and it’s blind ass is ignorant to any of our desires, but at least it can’t get away from us very easily.

To help you, me and ‘yo mama’ find love, I painstakingly compiled this definitive guide to LOVE.

If you can’t find love after reading this comprehensive and detailed guide, then check between the cushions on the sofa and behind the fridge. I often surprise myself with what ends up there.

A – Aardvark.

No A – Z in life should ever start without an Aardvark. Love is no different. On the first day when God was preparing to create our world, well before the Moon and the Sky bullsh*t, he wrote an A – Z to make sure he wouldn’t forget all he needed to create once he’d rolled his sleeves up.

In all fairness it’s probably also fair to assume that he was actually handed a list by a rather disgruntled member of the opposite sex who knew how f*cking absent minded he was. Probing deeper, proof of this can be found with Mars, the Moon and a few other Planets scattered about.

When he chose to do things on his own, he ended up with just a big rock in space. It’s obvious why when you think about it but don’t just take my word for it I didn’t create Science…

B – Booty.

Self explanatory really.

Men : Worship the booty.
Women : Work that booty.

C – Contract.

Now in the event of things going wrong, a good Hitman is hard to find, and expensive and whereby many people naively confuse the wedding as a sacred ‘contract’ between two people, be advised that some people also interpret this differently.

In essence it can simply come down to the cost. A good lawyer, divorce settlement and ongoing payments, or a single shot to the head.

Obviously, ‘assisted’ suicides, ‘accidents’ and other ‘mishaps’ can also be adapted to suit an experienced Hitman but this will no doubt cost extra.

It might seem brutal considering these options so early on but take a leaf out of Yoko Ono’s book and you’ll soon realise that if John Lennon wasn’t safe, then how safe will you be…

D – Do stuff.

For love to succeed, you both need to do stuff. Doing it on your own, with each other and with others (within reason, obviously).

Many relationships break down when people fail to spend ‘quality’ time together.

Dragging your wife to stand for hours in the rain while you stuff your fat drunken pie-munching face screaming abuse at 22 men kicking a ball around is not ‘quality time’, and likewise, dragging your man from shop to shop buying things HE knows you’ll never wear more than once, if at all isn’t going to endear him to you, your wardrobe or wanting to spend more time together. We know this happens anyway, we just don’t want to become accomplices to the act.

E – Elephant in the Room.

Not sure how you managed to get an Elephant in the room but it won’t help any relationship, so unless you built the home around it or accidentally installed an ‘Elephantflap’ instead of a ‘Catflap’, then it’s maybe time to rehouse the Elephant.

F – Fourplay.

Love the mind and the body will follow. An integral part of a healthy relationship is the sensuality and intimacy shared between the love and feeling of two people and their desires prior to anything which may follow. This is vital to the longevity of any relationship and something which required regular attention if you are to keep the man/woman of your dreams.

Duct tape, chloroform, each to their own. Some methods work better than others and therefore trial and error is often born of experience. Sometimes an intimate touch is enough, a kiss here, a pleasure discovered whilst enjoying your partners body.

Capturing the mood, timing and knowing your partner can all help lead to wild and treasured experiences but be gentle, loving and don’t fart and kill the mood, at least if possible.

G – Garden / Guns.

For the rest of the free world I feel it’s important to have an area where we can find peace, a garden, a balcony if possible or somewhere that we can feel the world slip from our minds, a little nature, maybe something to reflect a different time or place in our lives and somewhere where we can be free of our troubles, even if only briefly.

If you live in America, then guns. Probably lots of guns. Same reasons, feeling at peace and of course you can carry these with you wherever you go, stash them in the car, in each room and anywhere else where you need to find sanctity in your thoughts.

H – Habits.

Habits are BAD full stop. Hence the term ‘bad habit’, except for the humble and yet equally sexy ’nuns habit’. So, get her one of these and game on…

I – Initiative.

Working out what women want is like trying to make a black hole with the indredients you have in the fridge, and then trying to understand which particular ingredient made it fail.

It just can’t be done. Working it out that is. I don’t know what you keep in your fridge so it’s wrong to assume that you might succeed where I failed.

Despite them being adorable, sweet juicy cauldrons of hormonal imbalance, emotional psychosis lovingly wired together by Margaret Thatcher, it’s not easy knowing how and what you’re woman wishes of her man.

Obviously ladies, (I appreciate that the word ‘cauldron’ was used when other more suitable options are available, but it’s just felt right) so please don’t get all ‘how dare he’ if you please. I got sh*t to do.

Likewise, giving your man a clue every now and again goes a long way as having ‘a’ clue and having ‘no’ clue often equally equate to one and the same thing.

We are simple creatures, some would just say ‘simple’ suffices, and yet here we are, alone in the world, no handbook, no guide and no internet support with each individually unique specimen we encounter.

Doing ‘something’ would normally result in being better than doing ‘nothing’ but we never know. A myriad of options available to us all and yet most men are either too stupid or too ignorant to see the wood for the trees, and more than likely to be looking at the wrong ‘wood’…

If one, nor the other acts, then someone else will so it’s imperative that both parties try to pre-empt each other into moving forward where possible.

Taking the initiative isn’t about waiting for an argument to then work out you have issues, this much I do now know… Θ)

J – July.

Highly relevant for myself anyway, it’s my birthday and now you know. You’re welcome.

This to me suggests cake, birthday suit, carnal passion for at least a week, and not necessarily in that order either, all I’m saying. Depending on the best before date status of the cake, this may require some detail, but the cake’s not a defining point, by any stretch of the imagination.

I don’t really expect you to jump out of the cake either, cakes aren’t cheap and even buying all the ingredients and baking one big enough yourself isn’t really a practical solution either, let alone transporting it and then somehow being able to get into it before you lept out, well, it’s a logistical nightmare to say the least.

The point is, enjoy each other and why not use the day as an excuse to lavish each other with love. It doesn’t have to be on my birthday either. I’d recommend doing it on one relevant to yourselves. Not that it wouldn’t be nice to know that people all over the world are celebrating my birthday with their own deviant sexual needs, but I suspect one or the other might have something to say about the matter.

K – Kisses.

Equally as important for the success or failure of a strong relationship. Kisses, and lots of them, all over, under and in between.

And be passionate, it’s supposed to be your lover and not your nan your kissing.

Sure there’s a time and a place for outrageous displays of love, but when you’re truly in love, anytime should be a time for such things.

Except funerals. Even the most liberated family will turn their noses up at you if you start making out during someone’s funeral.

To avoid such conservative and yet prudish snobbery, I recommend going to someone you don’t knows funeral because most people will be too grief stricken and upset to comment, allowing anything from mild foreplay to discreet sex before they call the Police.

Take a wreathe and say a few nice words on your way out and most people won’t mind, some may even enjoy the distraction you provided…

L – Legally binding.

Whatever he or she says, get it signed, witnessed and locked in a safe. First argument you have and before you know it eveythings changed.

We’ve all been there.

Her – “I said put it in the oven at Gas mark 6 for twenty minutes”.

Him – “No you didn’t, you said grill it on both sides and make sure you take the cat out for a walk”.

Happens all too often. Be warned. But failing that, treat it as though it were, give it the same serious attention it, you and he/she deserve and hopefully you will avoid the legal issues in the future.

M – Mon Amour.

Learn each others cultures, history and family heritage. I’m not talking so that at some point in the future she hauls you up on Mastermind to answer questions on ‘her’ as your chosen subject, but integrate, embrace the differences, small and large if any between you.

If she’s a Muslim and you’re a Buddhist then don’t appear first thing in the morning with a bacon sandwich and try to explain how your great granddad always wanted to be eaten by a beautiful woman.

She won’t be impressed.

I angle the reasoning towards the men here as most women seem to be a little more compassionate in identifying subtle differences like this beforehand, whereas most men waking up with a hunger after a night out will only wake up to focus on a naked woman and not much else.

N – No Excuses.

We’re all supposed to be adults aren’t we, so shall we act like it for a change?

We are all very aware of what we do, what we say and what we are capable of, so lets assume that with this responsibility, it’s not only right and fair, and essentially the most natural thing to do, so lets take control of our actions, our reasoning and our deeds, both good and bad.

We f*ck up in life, it’s how we progress through it but can we all not try and pretend we didn’t know better.

“I didn’t meant to hurt you”, “it was an accident”, yada yada…

No. You did know, you still did it, and you did know that by doing it, YOU’D f*cking hurt me…

Apology, forgiveness or (as covered previously), Hitman or Lawyer.

O – Oops I did it again.

Saying sorry, similar to the last point but ideally just in light of the little things we all do without deliberately causing stress, anxiety, worry or problems to our ‘better’ half.

It might not change anything but it’s nice to at least assure them that we have a heart, an awareness and a brain.

Otherwise, see ‘N’

P – Passion.

Love/ Lust, both, together, on their own, however they come, seize the day.

Passion is and should be high on anyone’s self respective list. Even if it’s not entirely sexual or grounded in the body beautiful, passion needs to burn bright.

You need to share and encourage each others passions, stoke that fire and to hell with burning the house down. We never know what and how life will shape up so it’s important to take what comes from each moment, person or experience as for us all, they will change and maybe never come again.

If you can share a common ground between your passions, even just a few, then ultimately this will aid you in your quest for a long and healthy love life but it needn’t always be the case for everyone.

People have different needs and so all seek their own comfort in what they long for and live with, but if you’re not wildly and madly in love because you love each other, you’re missing out.

Q – Question Everything.

Big Brother, Skynet, iPhones, the NSA, Donald Trumps hair, question it all.

Seriously, question everything and take nothing for granted. Complacency is the route of all things falling from our grasp.

Look for it, into it and try and understand what it is, what it seeks and what makes it happy, and if it still seems to be too good to be true. Shoot it a few times and drive a Petrol Tanker over it because it worked against Arnie in Terminator.

Come the revolution, you WILL thank me.

R – Romance.

Romance, does anyone know what romance actually is?

If you’re sat reading this, and single then in all fairness, even if you did, you didn’t do enough of it, so no amount of knowing what it is you think you know helped you in the past did it?

I’m no different. I have cats who love me emphatically because they know I’m Romantic and yet the woman of my dreams who has yet to appear before me in her physical form can’t accept my ideas as being anything other than just words.

Join the club. But really. It’s not rocket science, is it. Or is it?

A Moonlight stroll, candle lit dinner and sending her a card on Valentines day might suffice if you want to appear as the most loving casanova to have ever climbed out from a cliché, but real romance is an altogether different beast.

It requires imagination, sometimes planning, lots of perseverance and dedication to the cause because once you open that door there’s no turning back.

It’s like an itch that will always need to be scratched and you can’t let it go.

If you’re a true Romantic, you can’t imagine it any other way. Your mind plays tricks on you and leaves you dangling between a surreal reality and mild fictional novel while you live in the constant hope of the look in their eyes imparting the love within, and yet terrified of becoming stale in your desires, hoping they never grow bored or tired of your efforts.

For women I think it’s safe to say that it’s widely accepted that whilst we understand that you covet such affectionate effort, it’s not a necessity to labour over your man in the same way.

We men as a rule have little or limited expectations when it comes to receiving Romantic gestures ourselves and some can almost feel un-manly in their receipt of such gestures.

I myself once received some flowers from a  girlfriend in the past and only assumed that another guy had given them to her just before I opened the door, and so any mood expected was ruined anyway because why or what I needed flowers for was beyond me at the time, as much as it still is.

Put simply, you love to be spoiled, and we love spoiling you. Amen…

S – Sextoys.

So, it’s more than acceptable to assume that throughout the life of a young, healthy virile woman that she may have acquired or come to use certain items to ‘help’ assist those lonely nights. This is her prerogative and essentially something used to pleasure herself when and if required.

These are HER toys. Not yours, and not only something she uses, but to which her health, sanity and cleanliness are attuned to. Something that she will introduce if she feels comfortable and she knows you’re not likely to stuff them up your own arse the minute any come out to play.

Equally and probably even more importantly is the fact that men need to understand that any accumulated sex toys, items or leftovers from previous relationships are not really going to be, lets politely say ‘suitable’ for further use and should be thrown out at the first available opportunity.

(Personally I recommend recharging them and placing them on the desk of any Inland revenue/Tax Office or MP’s desk when possible).

If I have to spell out the specifics or reasons why, then you have lot more understanding of women to master ‘young grasshopper’, and I wouldn’t worry about sextoys for quite some time. And by the way, I’m talking about the reasons why you need to dump the old sextoys, not putting them on someone desk as just covered, like really!?

Needless to say, only a ‘special’ kind of woman is going to want old ‘Getrudes’ twin cylinder, 4 speed Rabbit to play with, no matter how many times you’ve told her you never really used it!!!

Further more, do you really want to risk THAT conversation coming up whilst already set for a wild night of passion!?

Not ever.

Handcuffs, not so bad, UPC tape etc, blindfolds, tickling stick, rubber chicken, no, if you have a rubber chicken and don’t have a Dog, throw that NOW!

Even owning a dog might not help if it’s anywhere other than with the dog.

This next stage of a relationship needs to feel like a new intimacy and a shared one, sacred to you both, not buy giving anyone nightmares about where and who the rubber chicken’s been in…

T – Trust or Private Detective?

Trust. Anything less and there is nothing.

It’s not easy, we don’t end up looking for love without being hurt, unless it’s your first love and pretty much you know nothing anyway, so it’s all an experience. But as age and wisdom kicks in, hard as it may be, for true love to flourish there is no substitute and no way you will stay in love for long without it.

U – Understanding.

Women, understand your man. It’s easy. We’re like your very own ‘Spank the Monkey’.

Men, there is no understanding of these mysterious creatures. Nod, say yes when they talk to you and try to do everything they say and ask, no matter how absurd and it just might help, today, right then, but you’ll never know anyway.

Just do right by them, for them and to them.

V – Vajazzle.

If you even know what this word is, you’re already on shaky ground…

Men and women alike, and don’t try and make out you just came across the word and don’t know, please…

W – Work.

Till we murder all the Politicians and breathe life into the new revolution, we sadly have to do this sh*t till we die, win the lottery, or pretend we’re someone else and get away with it till they run out of money and we find another ‘willing’ victim.

Balance, stages of our lives require different things more than others, most stages require work though as an end to a means.

X – How to deal with being Dumped.

Plenty of fish in the Sea, sharks, stingrays, poisonous snakes and crabs that will chop your toes off. I’d like to say it’s easier but it isn’t. Live your life, try not to look back and take a deep breath.

Time. It’s sucks, but it takes time. Alcohol sometimes, and occasionally ‘legal’ drugs…

But what shall be, shall be. I know it won’t feel like it at the time, but chances are it’ll be the best thing to have ever happened to you because something else will come as a result of it failing and you’ll be glad of the experiences and the lesson it taught you to get there.

In reality, it still sucks. Always will.

Y – Yeti.

Well, it’s obvious isn’t it…

There was a story not long back where a woman in America (yeah, who knew), married her dog. In light of this I didn’t want to not include a special mention to the humble Yeti/Bigfoot.

If these do exists and they must because there’s enough of them on the internet, it’s only fair to include their rights, feelings and emotions to be able to share and enjoy the same intimacies, hopes and dreams as the rest of us.

If in the last 5 years we have openly embraced same sex marriages etc, what’s to stop Male/Yeti – Female/Yeti unions in the future.

What about the Lockness Monster I hear you ask?

Like D’Uh. Don’t be stupid.

Nessie is an aquatic species and wouldn’t be able to survive onland equally as much as man/woman couldn’t live underwater.

I appreciate that they could be blessed at the beach and maybe whilst one partie were to be aboard a boat, but the long term potential seems limited at best.

Z – Zzzzz, bedtime.

The Romantic in me would never let an arguement end in the bed or before you slept, always resolving your differences and allowing you to both start the day afresh.

The cynic in me would happily say anything for them to shut up nagging…

3 – Conclusion :

I’m not sure who said it first, but it’s a sentiment which rightfully and wrongly stood out the very first time I ever heard it :

“It’s better to have loved and lost, than to have spent your life wanking”…

Posted in A fckdup world..., Englishman In Greece, The News according to me... | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A penny for your thoughts, or else, or both.

“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 all help set a foundation for our own self tolerance, words and thoughts gained during these turbulent times can also impact the memories and heighten the awareness we have of such events and it’s the ability to constantly expand this knowledge base which makes language and how we use it a joy to behold.

Words however are just a tool, a means to an end, another of life’s many rich options whereby we can use, manipulate and piece thoughts and feelings together.

Of all the expressive means to which we have at our disposal, it also has to be the most confusing, stressful and manipulative processes that we willingly or subjectively have to cope with.

Differences between dialect, culture, people, intelligence and a lack of it can all help or hinder our progress when seeking to express our thoughts with others.

Then we have disposition, background, situation and circumstance, attitude and mood before we even start trying to decipher what is actually being said.

Feelings are pretty straight forward, you either have them or you don’t. Physical and emotional receptors are hard-wired into us as a species so it’s largely down to the individual as to how we all experience these, tolerance levels and psychological factors then allow us a tolerance which we ourselves decide or react to when it reaches our limits.

I like to call this the ‘f*ck it factor’. Whatever it is, be it physical or mental, emotional or otherwise at some point you get to a stage where it’s just too much. It may be involuntary, deliberate or it may be through caution and or self preservation.

Now obviously there are some people with minimal or reckless levels of this trait or ability, sensory awareness, and in some cases I guess these people end up being nominated for Darwin Awards if they don’t allow common sense to kick in when required.

The ‘f*ck it’ factor can also in certain circumstances be a positive thing also. Sometimes if your not sure about something but it feels good, it’s sounds good, or you’re curious to see where it leads, then why not.

“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.

Never mind the fact that it first needs converting, have you seen what a pound’s worth these days!? There’s then the risk that by the time you’ve gone through the whole bureaucratic nightmare, the red tape and dealt with the numpty at the counter at the Tax Office, that Greece or the UK has possibly left the EU and your thought is now worth half a Duck Egg.

Then there’s Taxes. And yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, Taxes in Greece!!! But YES, it has happened. Not by those who should be f*cking paying them I might add, but the common people who somehow seem to be the ones unintentionally funding the State sponsored corruption etc etc.

Not hard to see why no one in Government wants anything to be Privatised is it???

And no wonder why no one’s got a thought worth hearing too.

A regular yearly kick back forever including family and everyone else you fund to vote your scrawny ass in, or one pay-off when they buy you out!? Tough choice…

So, by the time you’ve covered your Taxes, let alone dealt with the paperwork, the queues and the whole (what the hell just happened in the Tax Office concerning a simple enquiry thing, no, really, you have to experience this here), that penny for all it’s good intentions isn’t holding up very well at all.

There’s a high probability that you’ll quite possibly have to give someone an envelope full of cash too. No one knows why, but it’s somewhat of a tradition in certain circles of society and not just here either.

If I could get someone to give Cameron a Slap, I know more than enough people who’d fill that envelope, for sure. Previously when Gordon Brown was in, I passed around an envelope for people to give him a wedgie and it’s still doing the rounds, last I heard it was in South Africa and momentum hasn’t slowed.

So if you take into account all these factors, it’s easy to understand why sometimes thinking just isn’t worth the effort. Buying someone else’s even for a humble penny now seems unaffordable to say the least, and what you end up with is something you’ll never know till you commit to the exchange…

Assuming that after the financial burden of this now mammoth task you were still convinced on the acquisition of such thoughts, assuming that the frustrations of the Tax Office didn’t drive you to blowing the halfwit who’s only purpose in life is to screw you out of YOUR money’s brains all over the ceiling, AND assuming that by the time you have all the paperwork ready, in triplicate, witnessed by a lawyer, validated at a KEP office, and found somewhere that wasn’t still on f*cking strike to process this, then would you still want their thoughts?

I’m partially on the friendly side of having a slightly sadistic streak in me which after all this, would still go for broke. But that’s just me.

Experience teaches us much and yet it is never easy to gain exactly what we have learnt from it when we seek it.

Sure, putting your man sausage in a Beehive teaches you that there’s a high probability that you’ll get stung but at no point do you necessarily learn that you shouldn’t in fact put your man sausage in a Beehive in the first place.

No one teaches you this in general, and I know…

You know the saying “once bitten twice shy”, well with Bee’s you can multiply that by a few hundred at least, if you’re lucky.

School doesn’t teach us important things like this, no mention in Biology, not that I was really that bothered about all that when I was young but I’d have taken note of the ‘Don’t stick your dick in a Beehive lesson’.

The Church never mentioned it either, anywhere. An amended 11th commandment would be nice and it’s about time they brought all those up to date anyway. Plus I remember all those beautiful stained glass eulogies depicting all the Saints, usually being Holier than thou, (after all, that’s what they are I suppose), but surely these represent a great opportunity to be taught some of life’s valuable unwritten rules.

No one cares much about Saint Cuthbert when you’re a kid, but Saint Cuthbert, dick in a Beehive with a great big cross would be something you’d talk about all your life and for reference, I don’t mean nailed to a cross either, (we’ve already got that dude covered), I’m talking about a nice red cross which informs to even the most stupid of people that whatever is being done in the picture, is NOT to be done.

It’s not just about helping the Christian/Catholic Religion either, other faiths would benefit too.

Reincarnation would probably be taken a lot more serious if you knew you might come back as a Bee…

And so words, experiences and Honey all help guide our choices.

No Bee’s, we all die. It’s that simple, and run out of Honey obviously making words, language and communication only relevant for those yet to then discover our lifeless and barren world in years to come.

The ‘light’ and ‘dark’ of meaning is also never clear either, one persons interpretation can be as individual to the person as it is to the time.

These subtle nuances have probably caused wars in the past. I’m almost certain. History has shown us that as a species, we’ll happily murder anyone for so much as farting in our general direction.

We don’t waste time stereotyping, categorizing or racially differentiating others when sometimes a simple ‘he didn’t pass the duchy to the left hand side’ is enough to gouge their eyes out with a spoon.

Let’s face it, as a species we’re Evil. We worry about Aliens coming to probe our bottoms when I’m pretty sure they lie awake at night praying to their God(s) that there isn’t a human under the bed…

I know I do!

I’ve gotten so paranoid lately that I lie under my bed at night praying that their isn’t an Alien in my bottom. Seriously, my housemate cooked Broad Beans a couple of weeks ago and I swear to God someone swapped my sphincter with a Tuba.

I had to turn the power off for three days just in case any live electrical currents were about and daren’t bend over for two days in case I let one go and propelled myself through the wall and into next doors apartment.

So, how do we bridge the divide? Can we even when as people we all experience such a rich tapestry of emotional turbulence which holds us together as people?

I don’t know, I just write a blog so behave if you want answers from me. You want Therapy, try Google.

Not only do they provide a great index based search engine freely available on the internot, but as they are caught up in so much technology these days, I’m sure it won’t be long before you can download an app or upload your thoughts to some advanced cloud-drive thingamajig.

Can we share our experiences in a way others can actually identify with? Well, we try. We express and share what we can with others ever hoping to impart or capture the essence of what it is we seek to give to those wanting to learn, but can they ever know what we really mean?

We hope. Sometimes I suppose it’s not always in our interests to know every detail. The sheer difference in what we can understand may be too distant for many reasons, and so delicately expressing what we are able to is always the balance we seek.

Not always, some words just make you shudder and the thoughts of them, and at times wouldn’t want to be shared by any stretch of the imagination so it’s interesting to see both the ‘light’ and the ‘dark’ of a phrase, always, maybe, maybe not!?

The innocence we sometimes want to express can often be twisted by a sweet and yet deviously corrupt mind and equally as corrupted from the source, but can equally be tamed by the imagination just as the fires within can spark the flame when there is none.

And for some examples :

“I just had a sh*t” – Not even something you’d really want to share with those nearest and dearest really, but words we all know and use.

“I just had a sh*t day” however, now makes sense and removes all manner of initial fear about the person before us. One word added, it’s an all together different beast.

“Would you like a Popadum?” – In the context of having an Indian meal, something we all can embrace.

Said to a random stranger IN India, probably going to get you your throat cut.

The devils in the detail.

“That’s a nice pussy” – Endearing words indeed to someone with a beautiful cat but something no Gynaecologist should ever say. Ever…

“Have a grab of this, I need to know if it’s firm” – Ideal if you and your partner are out looking to buy vegetables of fruit but hardly acceptable if you’re a Streaker on a bus. After all, I think it’s widely known that Streaking is one of the few Silent Arts still left in circulation. And Mime obviously, some people still think that’s a ‘novelty’…

“Those hot little wet panties of yours” – Normally invoking not much thought on ‘said’ panties, now allows the mind to run wild, however in context, actually requires the full understanding of the meaning to be known before we can ascertain the true intent.

“Those hot little wet panties of yours need taking out of the washing machine” put it all into perspective. Clearly after washing the clothes, attention to not leave clothes in the washing machine and hang them out to dry etc is just common sense and a necessity when wanting to prolong and take care of items of clothing.

Language, words, a veritable orgy of intention, desire, experience and feelings which if we’re lucky, we get to share with others in a way that makes sense to both parties.

*Other examples shall be added upon request as clearly the material is of a delicate nature and the lessons we’ve learnt are many…

This is available as a download and just a small part of the educational material being taught in schools near YOU!!!

And if it is, we’re all f*cked.

Unfortunately the slightly less romantic interpretation in a Politically correct world gone mad is this :

“0.0126184 euro’s for your thoughts”.

And that sucks on a good day.

Posted in A fckdup world..., Englishman In Greece, The News according to me... | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Athens, WARMER than Skegness, and a few things my nan used to say!

Another typical day, or so it seemed…

Shrove Tuesday‘ apparently. Whatever the f*ck a ‘Shrove‘ is? And yes, I was actually asked last week. Not a clue either. For this fact, I am neither embarrassed or worried about either and I’ll tell you why…

I’m English, speak the language, went to Church as a kid, grew up and imprisoned in a Roman Catholic school with other unwilling victims and had a God fearing nan threatening to send me to hell herself if I was naughty, a mum who knows I was an angel (ok, shhhh), and still, no idea what the hell a ‘Shrove’ is or was.

Thankfully I looked in the ‘Cambridge English Dictionary’, quite an old one too so I figured if anything, this is the kind of Dictionary which my nan would have battered me round the head with when as kids we’d all try and sneak a lick of the cake bowl before we were allowed to, and guess what, not a clue either.

So, if they don’t know, I don’t need to know. Simple. It’s a poor show when even the Cambridge English Dictionary don’t give a f*ck!

What it did say though was this :

Shrove-Tuesday. The last Tuesday before lent… I kid you not.

HELLO!? That’s the job of a Calendar, not a fricking Dictionary is it not!?

We know that bit! But what the hell’s a ‘Shrove’…!?

I was going to look up Ash Wednesday to see if that was in anyway connected with ‘Wednesday’ but didn’t want to tax my already vexed mind further.

I couldn’t recall what ‘What the f*ck’ Thursday was called either so named it myself for subsequent years. You’re Welcome.

Anyway, on a sidenote, just realized it might not be today, could have been last Tuesday or next Tuesday even. To be perfectly honest I’m just glad I got the actual day right these days.

I’m not very good at days of the week. Last time I had argument about days of the week was when my old Boss insisted I came into work at the weekend and I told him to ‘go f*ck himself’, turns out it was a Monday. I say, old boss, but you know what I mean, Ex Boss, whatever.

Since found out that Shrove Tuesday actually goes by the name of ‘Pancake Tuesday‘, something everyone knows and loves, and which makes perfect sense, as it is also named after something that exists. Is real.

And the Church questions Science when they don’t even recognise Pancake Tuesday!!!

Their double standards astound me.

‘Why put off till tomorrow what you can do today’, another gem of my nan’s, still echoing around my head when I reflect on all the things I should have done yesterday!

Now obviously, I’m just thinking aloud. I’m not suggesting that my nan was the only person to EVER have said that saying!

I don’t want any more law suits coming in for her having copyrighted all manner of things unbeknown to the rest of my family, all reading this thinking, wow, all those patents and who knew…

No. She was one of many I suspect who used language and shared it’s many virtues.

“Simon” she used to say, (well, it’s my name so what else would she call me?). “You’re going to hell if you touch another slice of that cake”…

Just joking, she rarely needed to. When your nan’s peering over your Grandad’s shotgun words in a way become meaningless.

The mission to get cake never ended though.

We knew she was serious when my cousin triggered a land mine in front of the pantry door. Honestly, no one suspected she was so serious about her cakes.

We were choked up for , Oo, minutes before realizing that it was now easy enough to step over him and dash in for a quick piece of the chocolate cake before the sirens went off and my granddad loaded up ‘Old Betsy’…

Sadly no one was brave enough to try and get to the ‘fairy cakes’ and so for years the family never actually knew what these tasted like or who actually ate them.

Another beloved saying is the classic “careful, you’ll have someone’s eye out with that”…

Walking gingerly through the house you’d hear “careful, you’ll have…”.

– “Don’t’ worry nan, it’s blancmange”.

Tip toeing through the house in the middle of the night, wearing slippers made from Ninja Hamsters and you’d hear “careful, you’ll have…”.

– “Don’t’ worry nan, it’s just a chocolate mousse”.

Meanwhile, me and my cousins jousting through the living room with 8 foot Spears made from old mop handles and not a word!!!

Go figure?

So, back to the point. Apparently…

People here going about their daily routines as you’d expect, well apart from a few of the more hardcore Religious/Easter types. Many still sacrificing squid to Loki and hoping for the Rapture to spare only the ‘true’ believers, but other than that it’s same old, same old.

Life in general is good. Well, ok, mediocre at best. Fair to crap if you think about the whole economic aspect but, no. We’re in Greece, (f*ck it) we win…!!!

Smiley face, exclamation mark and facebook like and all ongoing!

Meanwhile, I dare say this year’s weather at this time of year must be the worst on record, EVER. And yes, I mean EVER.

I know. I’ve been here eight years now and I mentally log any day under 25 degrees. Really.

Maybe it’s just the worst weather in eight years then, but either way, it’s crazy.

We have clouds, I’m having to wear more than a T-Shirt and I haven’t worn my shorts once yet. These are dire times indeed people. And just to reiterate that last statement, I am wearing other clothes, it’s not like I’m just in a shirt, nuts on a bench kind of thing!? So, don’t worry mum…Θ)

It’s days like this where you want to see the Greek newspapers running with a front page spread of “Athens, WARMER than Skegness!!!”… Accompanied by a picture of me on my balcony in a mankini, a sombrero and a pair of flipflops, or ‘thongs’ if you’re here.

Yeah, ‘thongs’. First time I went out wearing a pair of ‘thongs’ I was nearly arrested! Uncomfortable, got wedged up my arse and I got strange looks, avoid unless female.

Anyway, it’s been so cold I actually saw Penguins waddling down an Athenian pavement, in formation last week. Well, ok, Nuns of you want to be picky. Same difference.

As of this week, I can conclusively and thoroughly dismiss the whole Global warming argument on these statistics alone. Yesterday it even rained! Well, I say ‘rained’, here’s what actually happened :

It got cloudy, it got a little cloudier and showed the promise of rain and at one point, somewhere high above the Planet a droplet of liquid was dispatched by the God of ‘Taking the P*ss’.

It fell, earthbound, evaporating as it gained speed until a single molecule of what can only be called ‘wet nano dust’ landed tenderly on my face and then vanished…

That was it. There I was, naked, soap in hand waiting for hours until my goosebumps were bigger than my love plums and so in I went.

Grrrrr… Haven’t seen rain for weeks, maybe months. Proper rain anyway.

I haven’t actually seen good rain here yet AT ALL, and despite this some here will obviously dispute this fact, but I just say ‘Manchester’ and you can all shut the hell up.

End of discussion.

Even people in the Borneo rain forests say it’s ‘Mad Fer It’ when it kicks off, they then make a brew and disappear in the deluge never to be seen again.

I think there’s only me and the mostly Asian street vendors who rush out to try and sell Umbrellas who actually like the rain, and they avoid me like the plague.

Once one saw me wading through the puddles on my way home, soaking wet minding my own business and must have thought to himself, bingo. Customer.

He came dashing over all smiles like he was about to save my life, I just smiled, “Sorry, I’m English” and carried on. He’s still stood there, same spot and probably hasn’t moved since. Bless.

Anyway, there was a f*cking point to this. No, really! And guess what, this still isn’t it by the way.

About the sh*te weather! I shall be taking my findings to the UN Council at the first possible opportunity and demanding action be taken to ensure that in future, I am able to tan my knees through my ripped Jeans well before June begins or else…

I mean, as a Brit it’s bad enough having to endure the Sun for the best part of the year anyway, adding insult to injury and not allowing me the ONE month which isn’t usually barbarically too hot for me to ease myself from a ‘pasty’ white shade of misery, to a slightly tanned state of ‘probably going to burn up any second’ kind of brown is an outrage.

I can only assume it’s the latest EU sanctions and the IMF which are to blame. F*ckers are rationing the Sun now so it seems. It doesn’t matter though, we still have more than everyone else! Yeah, bite me… We do, it’s a fact.

The Sun and me here have a love/hate relationship, I love it and it hates me. Where as in the UK I used to walk about with a permanent cloud hovering above my head, here I have the Sun stalking my every move. Even at night.

I tried to get a restraining order against it but the Courts are still on strike and after a brief yet non productive talk with an off duty policeman, I was told I was crazy!?

Being called crazy by a Greek Policeman, another highlight … Θ)

So, moving swiftly on, here I am.

Easter weekend in progress/over about to happen, (not really sure anymore), and I’m sat minding my own business watching the few cars going up and down my street.

As it’s Easter, (second only to at August when everyone abandons Athens like it’s sinking), the streets are relatively clear! Seriously.

I have actually seen road next to what I can only assume is the pavement opposite from where I live! I won’t take any pictures because I know many of you won’t believe me, you’ll assume I photoshopped a space to park next to a death trap piece of sidewalk that only suicidal people wearing inflatable clogs would walk down, but believe me when I tell you this. It really is the case.

Of course by the end of the week, cars, bikes mopeds and HGV’s will be stacked on top of each other 3 high.

So, I’m people watching. Not many about. A few neighbours curiously wondering what the halfwit English guy is going to be doing today, as they peer from their balconies squinting innocently at me like I can’t see them and so forth.

Where I live has a particularly convenient cut through to bypass a main road hub in Athens so usually it’s like 24 hour rally stage for people with nothing to do trying to get somewhere really badly. Plus, it might actually be a Rally stage, I just don’t know!?

Today is a great day if you live in Athens, have a car and are driving down my street and looking to park a car. I know, I can drive and I’ve seen some stuff in my time.

Car, Truck, Bus, Japanese High Speed Train, today you could park them all opposite where I live. Easily, and even with Stevie Wonder driving.

By normal standards I’d even go so far as to assume that on a scale of ‘entertaining traffic activity’, today would be a 1, maybe a 2 out of 10.

And what a nice surprise it turned out to be. I think this most days and rarely does it disappoint.

Initially I thought nothing of it. The one lone car parked in roughly the middle of the street, half way down the road had no particular allure. Minding it’s own business so much so that after a while I’d almost forgotten it’s humble existence.

Unlike every other motorist who drove down the road requiring somewhere to park.

So, candidate number 1.

I knew this guy was going to be a dick because he was in a BMW, and well, he was in a BMW. Souped, up, big rims, sh*te music struggling to burst through the petrol cap and wearing a cheetah effect shell suit jacket (which was nice), which really made an impression to me as you don’t see many Chav’s here in Greece.


Penis mobile, one halfwit owner with a small cock, enquiries up the backpassage!

First impression was that the Jeremy Kyle roadshow was in town but as I couldn’t see 12 screaming kids in the back and he wasn’t being blown by his mum so that was out. But still, nice to see culture embracing the look!

Thankfully he had decided to grace the neighbourhood with his presence before realizing halfway down the EMPTY street that he needed somewhere to park, preferably next to a parked car, somewhere as I discovered (nowhere near) where he needed to be…

So, nearly a whole street, I’ll say it again, EMPTY, he drives past the parked, lone car, comes to a halt and slots it into reverse. I nearly spat my coffee out at this point.

You Sir, have my attention!!!

Slowly, sunglasses reflecting his smug Formula One posers grin, he decides to casually wheel in his Pimped up beast of a car and slams it into the kerb.

One nostril full of coffee, I watch on.

Into first, rips out forward again, and then with his best (one hand magically controlling the steering wheel whilst not looking where he’s going because he’s beneath using common sense) at slightly less speed proceeds to reverse the car into the kerb again, this time narrowly avoiding the parked car in front as he does.

Unaffected by his pure and inexhaustible show of sheer motoring prowess, he then slots it into first and stalls it.

Thankfully the sh*t music ended for a second or two at least. Undeterred, he fired it up. Clearly still in gear as it lunged forwards, again narrowly missing the parked car which by now did somehow appear to look far more nervous about it’s own fortune.

Thankfully the music kicked back in. If only to counter the over revving maniac scrunching gears like he was man handling the car forwards with a hand crank!

Well, laugh, I nearly fell off the balcony when he stalled it a third time.

So, long and short of it, he eventually (and only due to the rotation of the Planet) managed to somehow align his car roughly with the road, avoiding the parked car and not running out of Gas, gears or tunes.

The best bit was the way he got out the car. In his head I’m guessing he was expecting half a dozen models and a camera crew as someone admirably draped a flowered hoop over his head and handed him a bottle of Champagne.


One thing missing to complete the look…

It was epic. So, he gets out, spends twenty minutes fiddling in the boot, in the front seat and with his crotch, and then after making sure its locked several times, walks right back up the street, turns the corner and disappears from view.

If I could, I’d have snook down, broken into the parked car and parked it behind him just for a laugh…

So, this got me thinking, and watching.

Now several weeks ago there was another incident involving what can only be described as the Greek Mr.Bean.

The street, as described was at this time packed, cars parked wall to wall and one space maybe three quarters of the way up the road, maybe 10-20 meters from my balcony.

It’s a good sized space but not huge, so perfect for most cars.

If you happen to say have a little VW Golf, great, you could take it apart and lay it on the ground piece by piece and still have room for a smart car and a kids bouncy castle.

So, I happen to be playing guitar and chilling out at the time and so am pretty uninterested in the goings on below until a squeaky, rusty presence rolls up in the usual ‘about to attempt parking’ mode.

So, my eyes glance down and there’s this VW Golf ready into position, roof looking like the Blob has tried to eat its way in, and at least one different coloured door on my side of the car that I can see. The front wing is damaged and I can see that it’s lacking at least one wing mirror.

I stop playing guitar and safely rest it across my legs. I know the signs now, this guys got ‘history’.

So, Crunch, Scrape, Grind and Kerchunk, complete with a cloud of smoke to equal the symphony apparent, it rocks backwards, engine revving like a bitch and squealing like a banshee.

The front dips as he wrestles with the biting point before easing up and back, at about 0.00014 mph, reverses the car…

Honestly. I though he’d broken time!

I had to wave my hand in front of my face to make sure I hadn’t slipped into some sort of catatonic state or been induced into a form of suspended animation.

I looked around waiting to see the mothership on the horizon with full tractor beam sucking up people into the sky, but alas, nothing.

WTF I thought to myself as I watched hair sprout on my chin, wrinkles forming on my hands and my clothes age and tear…

We’re talking f*cking Twilight Zone.

Twilight zone

If this guy had of gotten out the car, It would have been easier to process…

I’m not kidding, it must have taken nearly 20 minutes to move it about 3 feet. By now you could hardly see across the street for the smoke. The noise had rattled the fillings from my teeth and I realized my G-String was far too tight.

(It’s a guitarist joke. Don’t worry, made me chuckle)…

Seriously, if this guy had turned the engine off, put the handbrake on and thought about the car rolling uphill it would have moved faster!

Anyway, Forrest Gump proceeds to rock the car backwards and forwards for nearly half an Ice age before he’s now got it anywhere near a suitable amount of space from it sticking out the road, now finally allowing those caught up behind him to pass before their lungs collapse and they bleed out through their ears.

So, on what I assume and hoped was his final run up to angling the car, he puts it into gear, or doesn’t and then drives straight into the car in front.

I’m not sure what the suitable LOL – ‘I nearly just accidentally and uncontrollably shat myself’ modern text equivalent thing is, ( INLAAUSM) but, I nearly did ‘that’ right ‘then‘.

So, without acknowledging this in any way, he carries on, he slots it into gear, wrestles with the biting point and then tries to roll the Planet forwards slowly using reverse…

As he crawls out of the car he’s just hit, he gathers momentum and doesn’t stop until he reverses into the parker car behind!

Not content with just hitting it, or deaf and unable to notice or hear the impact he carries on seemingly trying to push the car uphill and into the one behind!!!

After a while I guess he either realized he had at least two cars stuck to his own, he was running out of petrol and or needed to stop before it was time to unpark the car.

At this I was now considering taking a photo mainly because if the owners to the parked cars had suffered much damage, then it wasn’t as funny as it f*cking was to me at the time, and I should at least be compensated for the pants I just nearly soiled.

Balcony trauma

The end result, me on the balcony!

So, while I’m fumbling with my phone waiting for the camera to kick in, he must have seen the light light me up, at this he starts the car up, slams it into first gear and then high tails it off, clipping the parked car in front as he goes…

To be honest I was quite glad, I couldn’t see for tears, was blowing snot bubbles out of my ears and was shaking uncontrollably from nearly having a seizure.

Best part was, not a single person came out to see what was or had happened!?

So, if you’re ever bored and in Athens and want to know what some of the best activities are around the city, just drop me a line…

To be Continued.

I feel like I’ve been writing for a week and only just touched on the subject I intended to. Ho Hum.

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