Tuesday, October 31, 2006


I had iTunes set on Party Shuffle mode. This came on and, having not heard it in a month or so, blew my mind. Just wanted to share. It's Ladle - by Bea Arthur, brought to you thanks to Brian, him having given me the album when he was over here in August.

Please download it and listen to it, you'll be so glad you did, dear reader. However, downloads are limited to one hundred or seven days - whichever comes first. So be quick!

Just click here.



Blogger is shit.

It's been nothing but trouble since Thursday.

I've tried to upload some photographs to my Kamikochi post. The document contains no data.

My arse.

And does YouSendIt not work any more? I've been waiting for half an hour for a file to uplaod. Nothing works!

Geeking out over Doctor Who and Torchwood

Please humour me/indulge me for a few moments.

I've been thinking...

Dangerous, I know, but I have.

Captain Jack seemingly has The Doctor's hand (as cut off in The Christmas Invasion). He's thrown about in time and space, both with The Doctor, before and after. How did he get to present day earth in Torchwood? And where are the Cybermen appearing from in the trailer for next week's episode?

Has the rift reopened?

Will Jack get sucked into the Time War, change the end result and thereby bring the Time Lords back into the equation?

And with all this running about in time, back and forth, will it become clear that the Hand Of Omega is not a device, but actually The Doctor's hand? Think about it. For us, in this time line, The Doctor is the first Time Lord. All others (if they do return) come after him.

This might also explain the speculated reappearance of The Rani!

What do you think, dear reader?

Monday, October 30, 2006

Kamikochi - 15th Septmeber 2006

You can't fight the moonlight.

No problems with breakfast on our final day in Matsumoto.
Sweet was open for (sticky) business. We had a selection of cakes, pastries and doughnuts, coffee and a fag. Oh, and I had a jam piece!

We checked out of our hotel and made our way to the bus station.
Took the 09:30 to Kamikochi. As ever, the passengers formed an orderly queue and the bus left exactly on time. To the second.

The journey was spectacular with busy roads, tunnels and precipitous drops drops beneath the road. The approach to Kamikochi was through an amazingly long tunnel. Before entering it, although we were deep in the mountains, we could see other mountains on the horizon. Once on the other side, although we'd continued to climb, we seemed to be surrounded by peaks with no view of the horizon. Slightly claustrophobic. And very disorientating. I actually wondered if the tunnel was a wormhole. Before entering, the day was grey and misty. On the other side, the peaks of the mountains were clearly visible, the sky was blue and the full sun shone down on us.

We were very keen to leave the bus. Kamikochi seemed like another planet. Very beautiful. Almost Swiss in its appearance. Pine cabins, clean and bright. The fresh mountain air added to the atmosphere.

Sadly, there was one thing which detracted - and isn't there, always, dear reader? We put our suitcases into left luggage and popped into a shop to buy some lunch; sushi of some description, chilled green tea and water. I was careful, on entering, to avoid a giant spider web stretching from the eaves of the shop to the ground. Phew. Sadly, like the idiot that I am, I was not so lucky on the way out. I removed my spectacles to celan them as I walked. Christ! I walked right through the giant web! Awful, spitting, screaming, stamping...! Thankfully, the spider itself was not on me. And no money spider was this beast. A web that large must surely be built by something uge. And it was. Black and about the size of a child's outstretched hand.

Calm. Calm. Calm.

Time to start our hike. I like to say hike because it makes me sound like some muscle-bound exercise freak, fit, strong and powerful. If the truth be known, it was a walk.

From muscle-bound, we soon found camp in the form of a fabulous example of Engrish. For a camp reception office. I suppose a visitor would find an office full of fey queens talking about Abba, disco music, frocks and cocks.

We made our way past and over various bridges, some dedicated to Kappa. Their presence was felt, reminded by signs, pictures and hearing the word in the conversation of the Japanese.

The scenery was beautiful with glimpses of the nearby mountains through the sunny

We paid extra to walk around a beautifully managed pond on our way back to the bus stop. The largest of the mountains reflected in the still water, broken only by playing carp and the odd duck. The Japanese among us gasped in awe at the beauty of their surroundings. They are obsessed with nature, have a true reverence for it and appreciate it greatly. One would never find a group of teenagers taking a walk like this in the UK - unless under duress. We saw many.

Not long after our pond detour, we were joined by an elderly Japanese gentleman, Yuzo Koyama and a younger man. Was he his relative, employee, friend or boyfreind? We couldn't decide. Yuzo spoke excellent English and we discussed everything from monarchy (very rare for Japanese to touch upon such a subject), Shakespeare and haggis to languages! He invted us to stay with him at his house in Kobe. Although very kind, this was a curious invitation as we'd only known the man for around an hour.

However, he was very kind, very interesting and made our daytrip a memorable one.

His friend/lover/assistant, whatever he was, jumped to action on command, going into a souvenir shop to buy a pen in order for Yuzo to give us his telephone number.

"You can call me, any time, day or night," he said. "Wherever I am in the w
orld, I can be contacted. In less than an hour."

He walked with us all the way to the bus which we caught with seconds to spare, Yuzo kindly helping us out with a bus employee who evidently could speak no English, knew we could not understand what he was saying and simply gave up on us. Stoopid tourists.

The bus took us to Takayama and our ryokan - Tanabe.

The ryokan was beyond our wildest or greatest expectations. The Madame spoke reasonable English and was so welcoming and friendly.

Before our evening meal we had an onsen, on site. It was fabulous. Really hot water, clean and inviting. We had the place all to ourselves. If only I'd brought the damned camera...!

The meal itself was extensive, varied, delicious and fabulously brilliant!

The staff member serving our meal, in our room, was quite the joker. She reminded me of a Dick Emery character. I kept expecting her to say, "Ooh, you are awful. But I like you!" Madame soon joined us again and was amazed to learn that I even knew what Haiku was, let alone wrote any. I should have told her about Haiku Saturday, but doubted she would have understood the intricacies of my conversation and instruction.

On their departure, we removed the deep fried turtles from out table, wrapped them in toilet paper and placed them in a bag. I just couldn't bring myself to touch a turtle, let alone eat one.

After eating, we took an evening stoll about the town. We dubbed Madame's assistant Mrs Perm (due, obviously to her afro hairstyle) and decided that travel is merely a byword for exploration. If we were exploring, what were we looking for, dear reader?

Abba V Joan Crawford

Sunday, October 29, 2006

I'm Fib Sunday, like my saviour!

It's Sunday.

The clocks went back an hour last night. It's 09:56. That's GMT. Real time, not this BST bull shit. Many people think that this time of year is splendid because one gets an extra hour in bed. I spent my hour of time travel chatting with XWiz last night on Adium. He's a clever boy and I am stupid. Together, we got it up and running. Then chated.

We spoke (albeit briefly) about the new songs we're working on. Two songs (without giving too much away) about religion. We need more lyrics, so I'll be working on that shortly, but I'm inspired by our musical style to delve into the depths of my mind (yes, it can be deep at times) and find something funky. I may give up. I might not. We'll see.

I was thinking a lot about inspiration last night. It seems our new effort is a celebration of all things electronica, from its earliest days until now. Today's sound, tomorrow's technology. Ok, so yes, in XWiz's words, "Yesterday's technology." But that's fabulous. We love old skool. We love retro. We love the past. Everything that's old is new again.

It would be so fabulous to create a world in which all the sounds we adore can co-exist, in a world where they wouldn't necessarily live together in a state of happy union. I'm thinking of a flat share, inhabited by Laurie Anderson, Army Of Lovers, Pet Shop Boys, Bent, Kraftwerk, Erasure, XWiz and Minge. Lo-fi electonica.

It's Fib Sunday.

As you may or may not know, dear reader, Minge has been away. But I'm back now. While I was away, some gorgeous hunk hosted Fib Sunday for three fabulous weeks. I'm sure you'll agree with me that he did a most fabulous job. If he's not rewarded in this life, he'll most certainly be rewarded in the next. If there is one. Let's cross our fingers. Please.

If you don't know how to play, or what's going on, please click here for instructions.

Basically, one creates a poem whose syllables follow the number sequence of the Fibonacci sequence (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8), using the topic proposed by the previous contributor. Our last topic was provided to us by an anonymous contributor and that topic is:


In a shoe.
With too many kids:
So she sold them to the gypsies.

Next topic:


Saturday, October 28, 2006

Haiku Saturday

You know what to do, dear reader: click here. Or else.

10 things

10 things I didn't know this time last week:

Kath and Kim is inspired by a 1990s fly-on-the-wall series called Sylvania Waters.

Pelicans were introduced to London's St James Park as a gift from the Russian ambassador.

A very small front garden can hold seven hundred different types of insect.

Edinburgh used to be in the Kingdom of Northumbria.

The number of people committing suicide in the UK has fallen to its lowest recorded level.

Finland is the only country in the world which broadcasts the news in Latin.

The price of a prostitute in Roman times was equivalent to eight glasses of wine.

YouTube is used to catch criminals.

Nuisance crime increases by around 20% during Hallowe'en.

A one hundred million year old bee fossil found in Burma was so good that scientists can see individual hairs.

And you thought the internet couldn't be educational, dear reader!

Friday, October 27, 2006

14th September 2006 – Matsumoto

We got up early to go to Sweet before our 0900 train to Nakatsugawa. Sadly, although this fabulous bakery and coffee shop was supposed to open at 0700, it was still closed at 0750. My heart sank, which was set on a beautiful custard doughnut for breakfast. Actually, I could have cried. Imagine, a wee boy looking forward to Christmas and waking up on 25th December to no presents. That’s how I felt.

How can anyone make up for the presence of no gifts on Christmas morning? How can anyone make up for Sweet being closed?

We found ourselves in The Daily Hot instead, discovered en route to the train station. Vile in comparison. Filter coffee, mass-produced pastries (and more pastry than filling at that) and a vulgar, plastic table and chairs to boot. I say vile. If such a place had been found in this country, I’d be calling it fabulous. In Japan, it was not. Sadly.

Surprisingly, our train out of Matsumoto was a couple of minutes late. The gods were smiling down upon us, though, as we were able to sit at the very front of the train and were able to see exactly where we were going. How often does anyone get to look out from the front of a train? Hardly ever. This was quite fabulous. The scenery was amazing.

I’d love to sit in the cockpit of an aeroplane and see where I’m going. I don’t suppose this will ever be possible post 9/11. Who knows, one day I might win the lottery, get myself a solid gold toilet, wipe my bottom with twenty pound notes and buy myself an aeroplane?

On alighting the train, we took a bus to Magome. Our hike route began along the former post road, the Nakasendo. What a super walk, taking us through a mountain pass and into lots of wee rustic villages. There was a slight odour of a tourist trap, but not a stench.

We stopped for lunch in Tsumago. Soba noodles. Mine came with mountain vegetables. Ian’s came with mushrooms. Quite delicious. Oh, and there seemed to be something like broccoli buds floating around in the broth, but broccoli it most certainly wasn’t! A very unusual flavour that I really can’t describe, though with a very floral scent. I’ll probably never know what this was and it will trouble me unto my grave.

The town was idyllic. Almost a tourist trap; it’s saving grace was its sheer beauty.

From Tsumago, we walked onward to Nagiso for the local train back to Matsumoto. Japan is a land of diversity. Sometimes they are organised and informative, sometimes they are not. Sometimes there are road signs every ten paces, sometimes there are not. Sometimes these road signs point to two roads. Finding our way from Tsumago to Nagiso, many road signs to start with, none to be found mid way through the route, was not easy and our finding it depended more on luck than judgement. However, find it, we did, coming across an abandoned steam train on our way. In the mountainous recesses of Japan, one finds oneself surrounded by the past, enveloped in a fog of all things passé. Finding the steam train seemed to thicken the fog for me, making it something of a smog. However, the smog cleared once we’d made our way onto the platform of Nagiso station and onto the train. It might have been a local train, stopping practically everywhere and doubling the journey time of our return leg, but the locomotive and rolling stock were modern, clean and fast. Our journey was smooth, our arrivals and departures were bang on time. Japan certainly does not live in the past. Their long-gone steam trains smack of futurism. The British rail infrastructure really is set in the past. The Japanese planned the Shinkansen routes in the 1930s. World War II getting in the way and the reconstruction that followed put pay to that, but get on with it they did. By the 1960s, the Shinkansen were up and running. Here in the UK, we take ten years to even consider resurrecting a railway route which Dr Beeching ordered abandoned in that same decade. It really is quite shameful.

On arriving back in Matsumoto, we found quite a beautiful Chinese restaurant. The guy greeting prospective punters at the door met us with a very broad smile.

“Do you have an English menu?” I asked.
“Do you speak English?”

His last response was, quite obviously a lie, but with such a painful hunger and our feet so tired, we resolved to trust our handy phrase book, go in and see what we ended up with.

Ian asked for a small beer. Indeed, it was a small glass of beer, along with a very large bottle. I should imagine two litres. He might have drunk one by the end of the meal, certainly no more.

I knew Sake would finish me off, so ordered orange juice. Very nice. Another drink also arrived for the two of us. Compliments of the house, it would seem. A very delicious aperatif.

We managed to inform the waiter we wanted no pork, but would like rice. Remember, now, dear reader, he told us he spoke no English:

“Do you like chicken? Fish? Shell fish?”

His English was limited, but he was able to have a brief chat with us, beginning with the usual, “Where are you from?”

He was surprised to learn we were Scottish and went on to tell us he would be in Glasgow, Scotland sometime in December to see one of his favourite football players. I think Ian recruited another fan, our waiter having asked him for his name, address and telephone number.

I’m not jealous.

The meal was out of this world. A large tray, choc-full of goodies. Very enjoyable and unlike any Chinese meal I’ve ever eaten in the West. I also wonder how it might compare to Chinese fare served in China. I don’t think I’ll ever find an answer to that question. I have no intention of going to China, not while the human rights abuses continue as they do – and there’s no sign such things will end any time soon. Sadly.

After eating, we returned to the castle for some by night photographs, taking some others en route. I had an edgy feeling that the castle grounds became a cruising area after dark. Eek!

So tired was Minge, I barely remember going from the castle to the hotel. I do remember, however, that I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Black eyes

A man with a black eye boards a plane. He notices the man next to him has a shiner, too and asks, "How did you get that?"

"Instead of asking the big breasted girl at the ticket counter for two tickets to Pittsburgh, I asked for two pickets to Tittsburgh," he replies.

"Oh," says the first guy, "I got mine like that, too. I wanted to ask my wife to pour me a bowl of frosties but I accidentally said you've ruined my life you evil cunt."



Is it fair to say there would be less litter in Britain if blind people were given pointed sticks?


Je m'appelle Minge La Chatte und ich wohne in der Königreich der Northumbria.

Aren't I just so cosmopolitan, honey?

Or mad?

Or living in the past?

Or clutching at straws?

Or trying to find my roots?

You decide.

The fourth prime number

Seven images of Phyllis/Titty/Ian:

Seven trivia:

"Waiting for you" is track seven on Bent's new album, "Intercept!"
Seven is a happy number.

There are seven ways to love.
Herod Archelaus was dismissed by Caesar Augustus in the year 7.
I was seven years old in 1979 and 1980.
There are seven syllables in the second line of a haiku.
The Seventh is a Star Trek: Enterprise episode.

In the last seven days:
Seven lines from Chain reaction:

You make me tremble when your hand moves lower
You taste a little then you swollow slower
Nature has a way of yielding treasure
Pleasure made for you, oh
You gotta plan, your future is on the run
Shine a light for the whole world over
You never find your love if you hide away

Does this sound dirty to you, dear reader?

The most recent seven songs I've played:

Chain reaction - Steps
Not while I'm around - Stephen Sondheim
Leavin' me - Bent
A secret Rumours Of Whores demo
Time heals everything - Bernadette Peters
I won't send roses (reprise) - Bernadete Peters
Bright young things - Pet Shop Boys

Seven films I'd like to see:

Little Miss Sunshine
The Devil wears Prada
The history boys
Marie Antoinette
Casino Royale

Seven Scottish facts:

Scotland has only one land border - with England
Scots is considered a dialect by some, a language by others
Greater Glasgow is home to 40% of the Scottish population
The Kingdom of Scotland was an independent state until 1 May 1707
Scotland consists of over 790 islands
Our delicious First Minister is called Jacky
The Scots originally came from Ireland, invading or settling in Scotland a long time ago

Minge et sister

This is a photograph I took of a photograph of my sister and I. I found it while rummaging around in my old bedroom in my Mum's house, Bournemouth. Sorry about the quality. I zoomed in as far as I could.

It looks like it was taken in or around 1979.

Now, which one, do you suppose, dear reader, is Minge? And which one is my sister?

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Sven Sundgaard

We've found a hot man, dear reader. Thanks to Moncrief Speaks and It's Svensational!

Click here to read Sven's blog and look at delicious photographs of said man.

Question: Sven Sundgaard - hot or not?

We are bleesed with a few hot male weather forecasters here in the UK. Thank the lord, Michael Fish is nothing now but a horrid memory, you know, like remembering the time, when you were eight years old - you accidentally touched something brown, thought it was chocolate, put your finger in your mouth and then heard your Mother screaming, "Noooo! That's dog shit!"

Tom Schafernaker - hot or not?

Philip Avery - hot or not?

Matt Taylor
- hot or not?

John Hammond - hot or not?

Alex Deakin - hot or not?

Darren Bett - hot or not?

Richard Edgar - hot or not?

Some of these weather-men are hot, some are not, some are eye-candy, some are rough slags. If you have an opinion, dear reader, please share it with me in the comments section.

Target flasher

Someone's been flashing in a Target store... It wasn't me. Honest! Click here to read all about it.

Now, how long will it take me to get to Savage...? Let's hope and pray that he's not caught before I get there.


Here I am, dear reader, once more peddling my wares.

Click here to have a look at the green scarf (left) which I knitted or click here to have a look at the pink one which my Mum knitted. Her one is longer than mine. I was dead jealous. What would Mr Freud say about that?

Also, click here to see everything I'm selling.

What would your last wish be?

What would you do if you knew you only had three days to live?

Where would you go?

Who would you see?

What would your last wish be?

I'm sure I'd do nothing but hide in a corner, see no-one and wish that three days could pass with the blink of an eye.

How could you wish for anything or see particular people without putting other people's noses out of joint? With only three days to live, you could only see a small amount of people. How would the other people feel, those you didn't get to see? Your life would soon be over, but they'd live on for years knowing that you didn't care enough about them to make an effort to see them.

I could go to Ecuador and cross the equator. Sure, I've always wanted to do that. But how could I? My dear friend Martin in Australia would be more than upset to learn that I'd gone to South America and not to Australia to see him and his beau, Heath.

Upset, heartache and harassment. What a way to go.


Nobody has ever measured, even poets, how much a heart can hold.

Zelda Fitzgerald

Baby albino giant salamanders in Hiroshima

Click here or on the photograph to find out more.


In Baltimore, USA, it is illegal to take a lion to the cinema.

What Islamic citizens do on the web

The country where "sex" is searched for most often on Google is Pakistan. Also in the top ten, Egypt, Iran, Morocco, Indonesia and Saudi Arabia. When the terms "boy sex" or "man boy sex" are entered guess which four countries top the charts? Pakistan, Iran, Saudi Arabia and Egypt.

Sadly in all these countries, although man-boy
sex has long been part of the culture, if you try to practice it you generally end up just fucked by the police.

Jaroslav Kaczynski

Homophobic Polish Prime Minister Jaroslav Kaczynski, a bachelor who still lives with his Mother, has been investigated by Polish authorities who thought he was gay and in a long-term relationship with another man.

13th September 2006 – Matsumoto

Our only period of bad weather (unless you call hot and humid bad) was in Matsumoto, from the moment we arrived until well into the next day. Let’s call it a blip amidst an otherwise unspoiled meteorological landscape. The rain was heavy and without a break.

We had a Japanese style breakfast in the hotel that morning. It didn’t seem to go down that well. A barely cooked and cold poached egg (to be eaten with chopsticks, no less), bony salmon, and steamed wasabi leaves seemed simply wrong at 8am. Breakfast should be a jolly affair, not an interesting or enlightening one. 08:00 is far too early in the day to begin broadening one’s horizons. Something sweet and/or familiar was in order. We’d endeavour to correct our faux pas the next day.

After breakfast, we made our way to Matsumoto Castle. Whilst there, I surreptitiously took the photograph on the left. Japanese fashions often blow my tiny mind! The castle was a lovely place, despite the weather. Sadly, it was quite empty, just a shell. The odd information stand, yes, but next to no exhibits or signs of (former) life. After leaving the castle, still on the grounds, we were offered a free English language guided tour. Oops. Too late. Our ticket had already been torn and in any case, we were eager to see and do other things. Like have a cup of coffee and a cake.

I always scoff at tourists who complain about the local food and seek familiarity. Sadly, I did this on more than once occasion on our trip to Japan. I simply don’t know what got into me. I think my need for coffeee wasn’t a response to the Japanese obsession with tea (green or otherwise) but namely because I’ve become addicted to it over the past year. I’d never considered myself to be an addict before my operation last October, but since then, that it what I’ve become. Hello, my name is Minge and I’m a coffeeholic. I haven’t had a coffee in two hours.

I’m not a breakfast fan at the best of times. I dislike raw milk. Cereals leave me cold. I have to have toast hot and fresh from the grill. No-one can prepare any breakfast to my liking. Unless it’s a mountain of custard doughnuts and/or all manner of things sweet. In that word lies my saviour.

On leaving the castle, we found Sweet – a fabulous bakery and coffee house, not a stones throw from our hotel, serving the most delicious pastries, sandwiches (including jam!) and coffees. It was so unbelievably fabulous that we decided there and then to return the next morning for our breakfast.

After recharging our batteries with a rest, some caffeine, sugar, fat and nicotine, we returned to the area of the city from which we’d just left, visiting the castle, to visit the Matsumoto museum. It was very absorbing and infinitely better than any other museum I’d ever visited before due to its lack of pots, broken or otherwise. Museums’ obsession with old pieces of pottery really breaks my heart. One can usually make a corner in a museum and find a display case with yet more pots after having previously seen another five hundred. What is that all about?

To add to my joy, not only was this museum disinterested in pots, but they were mad about cocks! There were pictures of them, replicas of them, models of them; cocks made out of wood, cocks made out of stone, cocks drawn on paper… It was almost too much for wee Minge and I was teetering on the edge of a panic attack!

We were still quite full from Sweet, so skipped lunch. Naughty, I know.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent buying and looking for souvenirs. The town is well known for paper dolls and balls (nothing to do with the cocks) around which are wound threads in geometric patterns. We bought a ball, as you do, but not a dolly, considering the dollies in the museum quite expensive. Sadly, our search for a dolly was fruitless. Not because they were no cheaper elsewhere, simply because we couldn’t actually find one! It’s like going to Italy and not being able to find a pizza.

Looking back through my journal, it really does appear that we’re obsessed with food. I seem to devote at least half my entries (and so does Ian) to what we ate, when we ate it and if it was good or bad. Metaphors are food based and comparisons always seem to have something to do with food.

We’d heard that Matsumoto is famous for its Soba noodles, so tried looking for a Soba restaurant. We went along to the tourist information office in the hope of finding some timetable information about a train trip into the mountains the next day and decided to ask the lady there for her Soba restaurant recommendation. She gave us directions and off we went. I think we found the place we suggested. I don’t know for sure, though, because it was closed and everything suggesting what might be sold there was in Japanese. Alas, ne’er mind. On we went, deciding, now that we were ravenous, to go into the first good place that we found. This is an easy task as all eating establishments are good in Japan. No, really. It’s true. We ended up in a ramen noodle bar. Cheap as chips and really tasty. About ¥700 each, for a giant bowl full of deliciousness, including some really good sake!

Only slightly drunk, we returned to the hotel to find our beds had been laid out on the floor. We had a bath, Japanese style, of course, and took an early night. We’d need to be completely rested before our expedition into the mountains the next day.

To sleep, perchance to dream... Do you think that the dead dream, dear reader? Or do you suppose they even sleep? I'd love to know.

When I die, if I get to heaven, I'll sleep all the time. That's my idea of heaven, lounging around in my pyjamas, under a big feather duvet, nice and warm, watching old films on the telly.


LogoThere are:
people with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

Wednesday, October 25, 2006


Linguine with garlic, basil and lime!


We ate this tonight. Click here and here. Go on. It'll all make sense.

It was delicious.

Pasta suace

Make this, dear reader.

Go on. You know you want to.

I look like Magic Johnson!


If you're from the USA, please vote - and please vote with Matthew Shepard in mind.

Click here to see how and why.

Go on, you know you want to.


You know what it's like, dear reader. You're looking at Wikipedia. The USA Presidential line of succession. Before you know where you are, you're looking at Sassenachs, Lorna Luft and then Prince Max! I don't know how I got to him, but I did.

And ain't he spooky, dearie?

If we'd hung on to our Catholic King James VII and II, we'd now have wee Max as our King!

As if Liz wasn't German enough. What do these people want with us?

By the way, dear reader, did you know that Prince Charles' surname should actually be Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg. Charlie Wales? Shall I start calling myself Minge Edinburgh? Are all members of the Royal Family loonies or just most of them?

Btw - take a look at this jolly gallery. It is quite fabulous. I love thinking about what might have been, what could have been and what should have been. Most importantly, what should not have been. Do you ever think about any of these things, dear reader?

Btw - I got it totally wrong, this guy, Max's Father, would be King. Apparently.

London Minge

This time last week, dear reader, I took the train from Bournemouth to London Waterloo.

An interesting journey, it was, no mistake.

Although my seat had long since been reserved, carriage G no less, the train pulled into Bournemouth station and was only four carriages long. How the hell could there be a carriage G? Or had there been an alphabetical revolution whilst I was away in Japan? Indeed, no. No revolution. No carriage G. Of course, all my other fellow travellers realised as I did that the whole train was unreserved and a mad charge was made at the train as soon as it came to a complete stop. There were far more seats than travellers, though, thank goodness. Phew. I took a fabulous seat around a table and had it all to myself. I sat next to the window, facing forward, and placed my wee man-bag, choc full of gubbins, including my pyjamas, a clean change of clothes and toiletries.

Not long into the journey, perhaps at Brockenhurst, Southampton Central or Southampton Parkway, a man and his wife got onto the train.

Jesus H Christ.

He clearly wanted to come and sit next to me, hovering around the seat occupied only by my bag, as it was, his wife having sat on the seat next to it, on the next aisle. I was listening to Hooked on radiation by Atomizer, turned the volume down on my iPod and waited for the guy to ask me to move my bag.


He didn't ask me to move my bag, dear reader. No. He simply picked it up and gave it to me. Taken by surprise, I actually apologised. Unbelievable, I know.

Why didn't he and his slutty wife want to sit together? There were plenty of double seats together, even the two opposite me. They constantly chatted and laughed (loudly) then began exchanging foods. Crumbs that were scattered all about his person, with a flick of his wrist, simply ended up all over me.

"You've no social skills, have you!" I muttered.

Fear not though, dear reader, Minge always knows how to get his own back... After the vile wee man belched for a third time without excusing himself, I simply leaned to one side, pointed my bottom in his direction and farted rather loudly. It stank. I said, "That's better."

Not a word did he utter nor a move did he make from that moment on until I pushed him out of my way in order to alight the train at its final destination.

I hope he'll remember me and speak of me, hopefully at dinner parties where social climbers exchange anecdotes.

Next stop, Chislehurst. But first I had to find Waterloo East station. Not a problem. A doddle, in fact. I know what you're thinking, dear reader, that it can't have been that easy. Well, no, it wasn't. On arriving at the station, I asked a girl, ahem, at the information point, which train one should take to Chiselhurst.

"Dunno," she said, looking at her colleague.

Very helpful.

The colleague asked me where I wanted to go. I told him. His reply:

"Platform C."

"But which train do I take? What's its final destination?"


"No, I know the platform, which actual train do I take?"


I walked away.

Luckily, on arrival, an announcement was made advising passengers where the trains stopped.

I got the train to Chiselhurst and Gabby met me on the platform. It was fabulous to see the tarty whore again. We're like a couple of old women when we get together and do nothing but chat - only about all things fabulous, of course.

A short bus journey and a few footstepts later, we found ourselves in a very posh part of Bromley. Janette must live here. And she did.

I met her wee boy, Kyle, for the first time. What a dear wee man. Very friendly and what a gorgeous smile. He's going to break a few hearts in the years to come!

From Janette's house, we took a trip into town, did some shopping, had some lunch, saw a brawl, returned home and talked constantly. With only the ordering of a Chinese and Indian take-away to interrupt us, we talked non-stop until four in the morning.

And you thought I was too old for this, dear reader?

We rolled into bed, looked at some photographs of Janette's and Gabby's men (past and present), then went to sleep. Janette slept on the floor, Gabby and I sharing Janette's bed. I've never slept with a lady before! Thankfully, Gab didn't fart, belch, snore nor talk in her sleep and I slept like a baby.

The next morning, I tried on Gabby's spectacles. She took my picture.

Then Janette, Kyle and I posed for the camera.

And finally, La Evans and Minge.

From Bromley, Minge went to North London to visit wee Robin!

I was a bit late, trains being what they are and my state of mind being what it is, but got there in the end. I love Robin to death and we had a few hours to chat, drink tea and eat carrot cake.

Poor Robin, though. He's hurt his bottom and lower back. That's old age for you, hen!

En route to London Waterloo, utilizing my travel card, I took a wee look around Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square before heading off for my train.

So worried was I that I'd be late, I arrived at the station more than a full hour before my train we was to depart. I asked if I could take the earlier train, but due to the restrictions on my cheap ticket, I had to sit and wait.

Nae bother, hen. An hour for Minge is soon filled with fabulousness, this time, a walk along the South Bank eating custard doughnuts and drinking coffee.


My train journey to Bournemouth was a non-event. However, arriving quite late, I was keen to get to my bed. Mum was pleased to see me (after her rant - click here) as were mes chiennes.

Oh, I almost forgot, on our way into London, Gabby and I saw Little Miss Jocelyn! Fabulous! Check my lyrics!

And another thing:

I'm overjoyed to find that Pet Shop Boys are going to play Edinburgh for Hogmanay! Tickets go on sale this coming Saturday. I'm going. Are you?

Tickets can be bought from The Hub in the city (The Hub, Castlehill, Edinburgh, EH1 2NE), by telephone on +44 (0)131 473 2000 or online.

In honour of this and the fact that I've been waffling on about London, take a look, dear reader, at the video for London by Pet Shop Boys. Go on, you know you want to.