HO HO FUCKING HO.

I think I can safely, and quite securely, say, without fear of contradiction or anyone disputing the fact or telling me otherwise, that I have finally and eventually, completely without question or doubt, finished, terminated and brought to a conclusion, my course on synonyms, no wait a minute...

THAT'S not what I intended to say, what I intended to say was THIS - I've finished my UNIVERSITY DEGREE! (Roars from the crowd, fanfares, clashing of symbols (sic - two semesters of semiotics!), fireworks whoosh into the air lighting up the sky). My final paper was a complete success (got a 10), now I believe I shall be invited to universities around the world to give my lecture on Greek Tragedy in The Tale of the Children of Húrin, maybe even the Nobel for Literature...

The dRUNK GerMan Guy in BEER ADvert in my previous post is NOT me. It's a very good friend who happens to be a Professor of Particle Physics at the State University. There is a certain resemblance to Einstein no? We regularly eat slabs of dead bovine beasts grilled over hot coals and drink large quantities of fermented barley, delicately flavoured with hops, and discuss The Meaning of Liff and what particles are the vogue.

SIX BLEEDIN' YEARS! Now I'm ready to do a masters' or even PhD. anyone out there got a job for me in Wales, Ireland or Scotland, or even, dam it all okay...England?!. I know everything about Greek Tragedy and subordinating conjunctions because I have studied thoroughly. Because I have studied thoroughly, I know all about subordinating conjuctions. HA HA mighty clever indeed.

dRUNK GerMan Guy in BEER ADvert

As the Welsh consul and cultural attaché I get invited to a lot of the ambassadorial events in PoA, actually it's just a matter of us gringos getting together, doing a barbie and drinking vast quantities of FBAs all paid for by HM's Gov, George W, or Kim Jong-il. Actually it was the latter who financed the last one at the luxury pad on Guarujá Hill overlooking the lake and untouchable sun-set. And the question came up of course of whether my government would be adopting a nuclear policy and "Flankly mister Alan, in your country, have you got big bums?" took me a while to figure that he meant big BOMBS; this was after I'd expounded for about five minutes about the girls of Aberdare, much to his confusion. After sorting the communication problem out, that took another few FBAs, we came to the conclusion that Brazil is probably the best place on earth to live. No scary bomb stuff, no George W or Tony.
Then I reminded everyone of the politicians here. AH yes...well. Second round of the general election's coming up. Nobody's quite sure who to vote for, Lula, whose government has seen more corruption than...than...well... than a Brazilian government? ...in the past few months, or someone who no-one at all seems to like, at least no-one I've spoken to. 29th October, don't hold your breasts...oops I mean BREATH! BREATH!

By the way, I told him Wales have the biggest nuclear arsenal in Europe and that that is the reason why England haven't invaded us again since the 13th Century and that they went over to Iraq not to face a home embarrassment. He believed me.

It's such fun driving in PoA. The PoA adult motorist has not yet grasped the basic concepts of traffic flow, traffic lights and car indicators. There's a stretch of road on the way to my home where at one point there's one of those speed trap thingies that flashes, up when you pass, the speed you're going at, if you go over the limit, 40kph, you're photographed and fined (there is actually a 10% tollerance) soon after, the straight continues and the limit is 60kph and there is no speed trap of any sort. The PoA motorist, when passing the speed trap 40kph limit slows down for about 300 metres to 15-20 kph. As soon as they pass the trap, where the limit is 60 kph, they speed up to 80-100 kph. Do your maths guys, YOU'LL GET HOME AT THE SAME TIME!!!

BewAre thE JaBBerwoK, meu Filho!

I copied these quotes and the photo direct from the BBC website news story, it wasn't the story itself that caught my attention...

"An international manhunt is under way for Rahan Arshad, who is believed to be the husband and father of the victims.
The 36-year-old's BMW 320 diesel car has been found at Heathrow Airport."

"...Mr Arshad, a local taxi driver.." (my italics and bold)

Am I missing something here?? Should I move back to Britain immediately and get a job maybe as a pizza delivery boy and buy a mansion in the South of France??

Drinking Beer Is As Drinking Beer Does

Technology has changed my life... a mobile phone with a digital camera has enabled my amazingly beautiful fizzog to be transmitted to millions of bleaders (I have just at this very moment invented that word, thank you very much, it's Blog Readers, when it gets into the Oxford Dictionary in 5 years please remember this post, I WANT CREDIT!)







The lovely lady stuck onto my face is the famous Angie.

BRAZILIAN ELECTIONS ARE SUCH FUN

Why are we subjected to crap? Do we have to put up with it? The answer of course is YES, we put up with it or switch off the TV or get out of society and live in a cave in the Himalayas somewhere.

What am I talking about? Election time, actually the general elections, we're going to vote for a new President of Brazil, actually I'm not going to vote, not being a citizen with citizen's rights and all that (got a permanent visa though), on the 1st of Oct. the camaigning starts NOW however.

It means...8pm everynight, politicians bullshitting on TV. ON EVERY CHANNEL THE SAME CRAP (unless of course one is priveleged enough to have cable or satellite). Switch off.

It means... trucks going around laden with loud speakers and amplified sound blaring, and I mean BLARING! out a jazzy catchy tune about how beautiful our country will be, without crime, with low taxes, with jobs for everyone, with marvelous free education for our children, if you vote for Senator Presidential Candidate Joaquim Fartbumph da Silva. If we do a quick survey, could we say that anyone actually likes those loud speaker trucks? I think on a popularity scale they would get a big ZERO, can you imagine anyone answering that question with; "Oh yes, I quite like that truck passing in front of my house twice a day, it's a nice tune, I think I'll buy the CD" NOT!! Then why the FUCK are they allowed???

It means... thousands upon thousands of plastic posters and banners showing the face of Senator Presidential Candidate Joaquim Fartbumph da Silva with his huge plastic smile littering the streets. Again...quick survey...you know the question...SO WHY THE FUCK IS IT ALLOWED, AGAIN???

It means...crowds of people waving huge coloured flags at every crossroads and cars beeping in support as they drive through. Get a life PLEASE!

That's it.

THIS HAS BEEN one of those bizarre Winters that hasn't really been a Winter. Way down in the South of Brazil, situated as we are, we're supposed to get some form of cold weather that should in theory start about June and go right on through Septemberish. Not so. Okay, so there were a couple of days cold enough to justify the use of my very-expensive-to-run electric oil filled radiator. I have to get up 15 mins before getting-up time in order to switch the radiator on in the bathroom. Damn thing takes that long to warm up the tiny room. Those days were few. Now in the middle of August and I've put it away in the spare room and I'm doing barbies every weekend again. Again no, I haven't really stopped doing barbies every weekend.

BARDO WAS HERE Saturday, I called him up at 1pm, well into lunch time, and told him I already had a couple of chunks of dead animal over the hot coals. I'd just put the phone on the hook when he was at the door. I had to go to the supermarket at around 5pm to top up on meat, beer and charcoal. Salad? What's that? We got through three slabs of beer anyway. I was half expecting to get The Nasty Bug (about 6 foot 6, 6 legs, multiprismed eyes and punches you in the face without provocation) that had gone through Angie's family from Monday to Friday, one each day. I did get a little squeezy in the early hours of Sunday morning but I put that down to the beer, Fine Brazilian Ale always makes me a little squeezy wheezy after twenty or so. Anyway Sunday I was fine, no Nasty Bug and I was back on the FBA by lunchtime.

MY DAD WOULD BE down The Ivor, now "Y Ddrainog" (NOT I must stress any relation to Y Ddraig Goch, different bicho) at midday on the dot every Sunday, I try to keep up the tradition from afar, at 12 it's "bar's open" PSHHHHT! He refuses to go there nowadays on account of "the pricks present", you'd have to understand a little Welsh in order to get that one.

HWYL FAWR!

Bollocks

THAT'S IT OVER for another 4 years then. The green and yellow that covered PoA over the past two months has completely disappeared overnight, no-one's speaking much about football these days.

NOTICE TO the PoA motorist!
Attention drivers of Porto Alegre! How to make the most of your motor vehicle and make driving a pleasure for yourself and other road users. Some advice and tips:

1. Please be aware that your motor vehicle is equipped with a small lever device, usually fixed around or near the steering wheel. On operating this lever (by a deft flicking up or down action with the hand)a small orange light on the front and rear of your motor vehicle, either the left or the right, will begin to flash intermittently.
And what is the purpose of this? You may ask.
Excellent observation, for this intermittent flashing light will actually ADVISE OTHER ROAD USERS OF YOUR MANOEUVERING INTENTIONS! Isn't that just incredible?! We are assuming here of course that you are aware that there ARE OTHER ROAD USERS.
It's a good idea then, when operating this INDICATOR (for that is what the device is called), to LOOK IN YOUR MIRROR, to see if there are any other road users approaching from behind before carrying out the manoeuver.
We are aware that some of you have already discovered this device, however we advise that it should be actioned AT LEAST 75 METRES BEFORE THE INTENDED MANOEUVER AND NOT AT THE MOMENT OF THE MANOEUVER ITSELF.
When observing this intermittent flashing light of a vehicle ahead of yours this means that the vehicle intends to MOVE INTO YOUR LANE or TURN LEFT OR RIGHT according to what side the flashing light is on. If you observe this then it is essential to GIVE THAT VEHICLE SPACE IN WHICH TO MANOEUVER and NOT ACCELERATE TO PASS THAT VEHICLE, which brings us to point,
2. You don't really HAVE TO pass that vehicle in front of you. No, really! He won't think bad of you if you stay behind. Despite what you may think, it is NOT WRITTEN IN THE LAW that you have to pass every vehicle in front of you. You may notice that in passing a vehicle, after perhaps a 100 metres or so, you will come across a RED TRAFFIC LIGHT (see next point), and that vehicle will soon be behind or alongside you. You are not Ayrton Senna.
3. A traffic light, when changing from orange to red actually, believe it or not, means YOU HAVE TO STOP, and NOT ACCELERATE TO PASS.

and finally:

The size of you vehicle does not determine your priority on a public road. That means - IF YOU GOT A BIG 'UN YOU'RE REALLY NO BETTER THAN THE REST OF US!
(John Holmes and Ron Jeremy, on their salaries, could argue that point)

HWYL FAWR.

4.30pm. TUESDAY 13th JUNE, I must have been the only person in Brazil not to have been sitting in front of a TV. I had left my class at 3.30 only to find the roads packed with everyone trying to rush home, green and yellow and honking horns everywhere. To avoid stress overload I parked up at Angie's until the traffic calmed down. She was busy with her final paper so in fact I wasn't the ONLY person not in front of a TV. At 4.15 I deemed it safe enough to venture out onto the roads, and indeed it was, a deserted city, the roads deserted of traffic that is, but life was there - passing a few bars, there was a seething green and yellow mass spilling out into the street. At home I settled in front of the computer to get some work done. A roar from around the city followed by swish bang bang bang over the next few minutes at around 4.45 indicated that Brazil scored. Can't wait for the next game.

ISN'T A DJ'S JOB just to stick a record on the deck and leave it there? Seems like they fool around with the record now, pressing buttons and twiddling knobs. And how come all Brazilian DJs are Scottish? MCJean Paul, MCFulano, etc.

WELL THAT'S YER LOT for today.

4.30pm. TUESDAY 13th JUNE, I must have been the only person in Brazil not to have been sitting in front of a TV. I had left my class at 3.30 only to find the roads packed with everyone trying to rush home, green and yellow and honking horns everywhere. To avoid stress overload I parked up at Angie's until the traffic calmed down. She was busy with her final paper so in fact I wasn't the ONLY person not in front of a TV. At 4.15 I deemed it safe enough to venture out onto the roads, and indeed it was, a deserted city, the roads deserted of traffic that is, but life was there - passing a few bars, there was a seething green and yellow mass spilling out into the street. At home I settled in front of the computer to get some work done. A roar from around the city followed by swish bang bang bang over the next few minutes at around 4.45 indicated that Brazil scored. Can't wait for the next game.

ISN'T A DJ'S JOB just to stick a record on the deck and leave it there? Seems like they fool around with the record now, pressing buttons and twiddling knobs. And how come all Brazilian DJs are Scottish? MCJean Paul, MCFulano, etc.

WELL THAT'S YER LOT for today.

Let them Eat Bolo

THE PEASANTS ARE REVOLTING in São Paulo.
They should take a shower now and again.

THE CITIZENS and DENIZENS of SP are in fear of their lives. Civil War! Cry the headlines. Things are pretty calm here in PoA so far, I'm just waiting to see if this general violence will spread to all the major cities as these things are want to do at times like these.

"Baldrick, does it have to be this way? Our valued friendship ending with me cutting you up into strips and telling the prince that you walked over a very sharp cattle grid in an extremely heavy hat?" (Blackadder to Baldrick "Duel and Duality")

Financial Poo

I'M IN FINANCIAL CRAP. Well what the hell, who isn't. MY fun started when I neglected to pay the minimum monthly payment on a credit card. Of course the next month it had almost tripled so I couldn't pay it! Next I went on the shit list, the Dirty Debters, a hundred years ago I would've gone to Fleet Street Prison for a couple of months.

SO I GOES to my bank and says, I want to get off this list by paying off the bill, a mere R$700, that's only about 170 quid guys! Uhm... I need just a little loan to pay off this bill to get me off the DD list. "Sorry, no can do, no loans I'm afraid...you're on the List".

I WENT TO CityBank who's advertising claims: "Doesn't even seem like a bank", by the advertizing I assumed they would be open, friendly, I assumed it would be a doddle to open an account. The nice young lady was open and friendly. After showing proof of my income... "Hmmm, Sorry you need to earn at least R$3,000 a month to open an account here." (My thoughts went back to Barclays when I was a young lad..."I'd like to open an account", "Have you got a quid?", "Here you are.", "Okay, thanks, just sign here".)

I HAD NO OPTION but to open an account in the bank of the credit card, which I had been trying to avoid doing. I have to deposit a monthly payment in order for them to extract that payment for the bill. So here's me opening the account...compare this with the Barclays business above:

DO YOU HAVE PROOF OF WHERE YOU LIVE?
(I hand over an Electric bill with my name and address on)
PROOF OF INCOME.
(Last income tax declaration)
MOTHER'S NAME.
WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU NEED MY MOTHER'S NAME FOR???!!
I didn't say that, just supplied the info. Incidently my dear mother died 34 years ago.
ANY DEPENDENTS?
Two children
NAMES, AGES, EDUCATION UP TO NOW.
Now I'm getting a trifle annoyed. WHAT THE FUCKING HELL HAS THIS GOT TO DO WITH WHAT MONEY I WANT TO PUT IN OR TAKE OUT OF BANK???!!!
LOTS OF OTHER NORMAL INFO, JOB, TELEPHONE NUMBERS ETC.
okay, I don't mind that.
THEN SHE LOOKS AT THE ELECTRIC BILL NOTES DOWN THE AMOUNT AND PAYMENT DUE DATE.
NOW I'm mad and tell her. THAT IS AN INVASION OF PRIVACY!!


I WAS MAD. All that info went on the bank's computer of course. At the end I wanted to say, "oh you forgot...the colour of my underpants and prefered method of contraception while having sex, I use those damn rubber things you know, I'm thinking about getting the snip because injected hormones bloat the missus up too much and the oily rubber is quite yucky after doing it, isn´t it just? In fact it's quite yucky BEFORE doing it too, what does YOUR husband think?". But Brazilians don't quite understand irony so I stayed clammed.

((This is a test for a link, for some reason the inserted links didn't appear on my last post below so I'm trying it here, if they don't appear again... I've got a problem they are:

A Word or Two on Culture

MOTEL.
In Brazil, is not a place where you'd stop over with your family on a long journey.
MOTEL.
In Brazil, is for SEX!
Individual rooms, not in an apartment or hotel block type building, but in individual cells, though joined like mini terraced houses, with private parking for each one. You drive into the garage, very discreet, walk up the stairs straight into the suite.
The motels themselves vary in style, sometimes with a particular theme, Greek, Egyptian, Roman or whatever, and the suites vary in luxury, sometimes with fountains, most have ceiling mirrors and jacuzzis - the size depends on how much you pay (they even have suites with huge beds and jacuzzis for groups - invite your friends! Let's swing together!) Other facilities include a mini-fridge with refreshments, champagne or beer (Ultra expensive of course - I recommend you take yer own), room service for lunch, dinner or breakfast, depending on what time of day you stay (yes they are open 24 hours, you can pop in at 3 am, for a quickie). Ah, yes, they usually charge minimum 2 or 3 hours, and it's between about R$30 and R$200 for that, depending on the luxurity, let's convert that to pounds sterling - about 6 quid to 40 quid. For 40 quid you'll get a large jacuzzi, mirrors all over, 29" TV with porn channel, even mini heated swimming pool and open air solarium in some places.

Per night, motels are actually cheaper than HOTELS and a lot more fun, so if you come to Brazil as a couple with no kids, I recommend you stay in motels, not hotels!

As I Walked Out On a Summer's Day

I WUZ IN THE supermarket today, buying lunch - beer and meat, when at the beer shelves an old lady was a little indecisive in her choice and seeing me without hesitation directly grabbing a slab of my preferred Fine Brazilian Ale asked, "What is the beer we have to drink in the Winter, Kaiser Gold?", "No dear" I replied, "That would be Kaiser Bock". What the hell, drink any figgin' beer you want in the Winter. The wonders of modern advertizing.

AS MY REGULAR READERS (all 3 of 'em) know, I don't have a TV but occasionally my son brings his over for the weekend and I regress to vegetal state watching Sunday afternoon programmes. The other day on click went the box and what! I was instantly transported back to my wee childhood days a few million years ago - "BILL AND BEN THE FLOWER POT MEN" !!! Only it like wasn't the Bill and Ben that I used to know, there were no strings holding them up, though they still said "FLOBALOBALOB" only in Portuguese, and Weed also said "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED" also dubbed. Perhaps "regress" wasn't the right verb to use there, implies I was a vegetable before, well maybe I was.

The Actual Day

THE ACTUAL DAY. was 3rd May. Spent a few wonderful hours in a jacuzzi with Angie and a bottle of champers.
Want photos?
Fuck Off!

AND a Good Time was Had by ALL

NO COMMENTS since my "Where the FUCK is Waldo" post. I offended loads of people with the word FUCK and with a photo of naked people I suppose.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!
etc.

now yer all waiting for the photo of naked people again eh? well fuck off.

THE ANNUAL BIRTHDAY BASH went well. Barbie on the terrace with the best of friends, Victor YES! He made an appearance, only after calling him about 5 times. So at some time during the afternoon I was over the road buying more charcoal for phase 4 when V walked past speaking on his mobile "So where's Alan's flat then? I'm now walking past a corner shop..." , "HEY VICTOR you fuck!" (that fucking word again) so then as we're coming into the gate, Bardo arrives by car.

PHASE FOUR started with some fine slices of picanha mal passado of course there are always those that want it bem passado but tough shit, they have to wait until phase six at least. By phase six I was well pissed so I don't remember much but I still managed to serve the meat - that is after branding the palm of my hand with a U shape because of grabbing the red hot grill handle and consequently - I think, or it may have been another moment of relapse caused by BEER - dropping the picanha into the coals. I managed to fish it out with a skewer, nobody noticed the ashy taste.

SOMEWHERE / TIME BETWEEN phase six and seven we were dancing to THE KINKS, la-la-la-la-Lola, la-la-la-la-Lola, I know what I am, and I know I'm a man, and so is LOLA, in the 1 x 5m space between the computer and bookshelves. Also somewhere/time between phase 6 and 7 Angie threw up and went to have a "lie down".

MIRIAM OR VICTOR had brought a joint - we smoked. It was brown, I've never seen a brown joint before. I think it was the brown joint that induced the Kinks dancing scene and the vomiting Angie scene.

PEOPLE I HAVEN'T MENTIONED. Those present apart from Victor, Miriam, Bardo, Angie. Simone, insisting that next time the barbie must be in her place. Ian, without Carmen, trying to enjoy himself. Sergio and Lucinha, also trying to enjoy themselves, but with two super dooper kids anxious to discover everything and anything in a shorter time possible, quite tense.

SOMETIME / WHERE after phase seven myself, Victor and Bardo went out in the latter's car to get more beer in the supermarket, don't remember much from this only that we were breaking all the normal drinking and driving laws.

Just now I googled "Alan's 43rd birthday party" for images and it didn't find anything, none of my guests took a digital camera. Google found "Robert's 43rd birthday party" so there's a tiny photo up there on the right somewhere. I don't know who the figgins Robert is or where he's from but I guess one 43rd birthday party is pretty much the same as any other though Robert doesn't seem to be having as much fun as I had.

PEOPLE WHO WEREN'T there that maybe should have been or I would have liked to have seen there. Clara Northfleet, whom one day I shall meet. Albert Einstien also was not there.

KIDS are important, Sergio's and Lucinhas dynamites and Andreas, WHAT a combination. aNanda is no longer classified as a kid, next day she was asking why I kept saying that she is amazing. Well it's because she IS amazing.

NEXT DAY, the usual stomach like a washing machine full of liquified parmesan cheese, diced carrots and tomato skins. But I held it in folks!

I guess we'll be having FISH dinner, FISH supper

FISH breakfast, for the next few weeks or so

WHERE THE FUCK IS WALDO?

Look out of any window, any morning, any evening, any day,

MAYBE THE SUN IS SHINING...

Haven't got time for Jack Shit nowadays, you may have noticed - haven't been blogging.

Now there's a semantic puzzle, I HAVEN'T got time for Jack Shit OR I've GOT time for Jack Shit? What it means is I'm fucking BUSY-O. Especially with reading, I'm still ploughing through Aristotle (who was, as we know, a bugger for the bottle, Emanuel Kant was a real pissant and René Descartes was a drunken fart - I Drink Therefore I AM!)

THE NIGHTS are arriving earlier down here in the South of Brazil, right now it's 18.30 and dark already and a chill in the air.

Reading Narn i Hîn Húrin for the umpth time, after 8 years or so, I've noticed a huge gap in the story; one moment he's living with Mîm the Dwarf in Bar-en-Danwedh next he's back at Dor-lómin, searching for his mum and sister. The complete text can be found in The Silmarillion, though the Unfinished Tales version is longer and more detailed, The Silmarillion version has the whole story and doesn't leave any doubts such as the killing of Beleg Strongbow.

LOTS OF harmatia and peripeteia I can extract from that to get my final paper done.


TERRIBLY EXCITING blogging tonight what?
I have to go out and drink beer.

BY ZEUS! I've been reading Aristotle and Sophocles 'till it's been coming out of me bum (not ears) (I knew I shouldn't have eaten that curried shish kebab) for I have chosen (Fanfares please) to write as my Final Paper : "The Tragedy in Tolkien", (roars from the crowd) and who is the Tragic Hero one asks? Yes, HE - Turin Turambar (my faithful readers will remember March 2004 post, If I were really smart, or could be bothered, I'd make a link right HERE, but you can just click over there --------> ).

ME AND THE GOOD LADY celebrated one year together, March 16th (which also by the way is my big bruv's birthday), in a hot tub with a bottle of Spanish bubbly, followed by hot gratuitous sex.

YOU MAY DEDUCE from the first paragraph that I'm back at PUC after an absence of half a year. Lots of reading to do this term. Apart from the stuff I'm reading for researching the final paper, obligatory reading is Edith Wharton's "The Age of Innocence", beautifully written, but excruciatingly boring descriptions of New York's "society" of the late 19th Century; there are some wonderful pie-in-the-face ironies: "...an unalterable and unquestioned law of the musical world required that the German text of French operas sung by Swedish artists should be translated into Italian for the clearer understanding of English-speaking audiences."

MY LOO has a flusch (it's a German loo) problem, there always seems to be one of Churchill's (or maybe Fidell's - but I heard he gave up years ago) favourite Havanna's floating around, reluctant to depart from this world. Just thought I'd share that with you.

If God is my Witness, does He need to swear on the bible?

DYDD GWYL DEWI HAPUS!

To everyone back in The Land of My Fathers (and my mothers and grandparents too actually), and to any of the Cymraeg ex-pats all over the world and even that bunch of Argentinian Welsh in Patagonia - Feliz Dia de Santa Davi (Okay, I can't speak Spanish, but Portuguese is close enough)

I think I'll go and drink a few beers and eat raw leek to celebrate.

I'm a Jiggly Tits Man

I THINK I ACTUALLY transformed into vegetable state today. My boy, here for a few days during carnival, has brought his TV over, a 14inch wee colour jobby, and I watched TV for hours s'afternoon, "Faustão" followed by "Fantastico" and then the Samba parades in Rio. It's taken me a while and a few beers to revert to human form.

GOT A MESSAGE below from one Rafael,for some reason I couldn't get an e-mail to you Raffa but if you send me your e-mail address I'll write something, meanwhile, and this also applies to anyone interested, if you want to know about my personal history with regards to being Welsh and the Welsh language follow the link on the right "Y Ddraig Goch Fiction", there's something I wrote a few years ago ("The Search for the Red Dragon" is not fiction).

FROM NOW ON it's Samba samba samba all the way, naked painted girls with quaking bums and jiggly tits, it's samba, and there's four or five days of continuous naked painted girls with quaking bums and jiggly tits on TV this week. I only have a borrowed 14inch for a few days. Imagine if I had a 50inch plasma jobby.

Wasn't it Kafka who wrote "I'm a Jiggly Tits Man"?

I woke up in the morning with an arrow through my nose

IT'S CARNIVAL TIME AGAIN! Naked women and 24 hour samba! PHWOAR!
Discovered on Saturday night that Mick Jagger speaks fucking awful Portuguese, at least he mentioned Porto Alegre along with São Paulo, Rio and Bahia. Mighty fine show,couldn't afford the bus / plane fair to get to Rio meself to squeeze on the beach alongside million and half sweating South Americans but almost got the same effect in my spare room with the window shut, some sand sprinkled on the floor, stereo speakers with gentle surf sounds and TV up full volume. Now I need to work on something for the Rio carnival,wonder how many naked women I can fit into my spare room.

(I've been instructed to write (by Nanda)that Bono Vox also speaks crap Portuguese)

There was an Indian in the corner trying on my fucking clothes!

The Dickwick Papers OR A Tale of Two Titties OR...

I TYPED "fucking weird stuff" in the address bar of my Mozilla Firefox navigator and it came back with a page on the Wizard of Oz!

HERE ARE SOME BEAUTIFUL LINES:
"She touched his organ, and from that bright epoch, even it, the old companion of his happiest hours, incapable as he had thought of elevation, began a new and deified existence.".
None other than Charles Dickens! Move over D.H. Lawrence.

SO WHILE ON CHARLES I did some delving and found some other gems:

"The sergeant was describing a military life. It was all drinking, he said, except that there were frequent intervals of eating and love making."

I, having served 11 years in Her Majesties Daft and Barmy, couldn't agree more.

"A person who can't pay gets another person who can't pay to guarantee that he can pay. Like a person with two wooden legs getting another person with two wooden legs to guarantee that he has got two natural legs. It don't make either of them able to do a walking-match."

Sounds like Brazilian negociations.

"Bring in the bottled lightning, a clean tumbler, and a corkscrew."

At once!

"Well, then, when you tumbled upstairs, I was romping with the girls. In point of fact, we were playing at Puss in the Corner."

This followed by Hide the Sausage no doubt.

Victorian London was such larks!

I wonder if my organ will begin a new and deified existence tonight.

Barkis is Willing!

An inspireutron (that's one of them quantum physics particles that come from outa there somewhence, this one inspires) hit me yesternight, it pierced right through my brain lobes, or it may have been the beer, anyways check this out, as I observed the end of day potential storm:

the wind sucked with a mighty force (for who are we to question whether wind sucks or blows, if you've ever been out on a really windy day, you will conclude - wind SUCKS!), SUCKED with such a might force that the two fig palms, silhouetted black-gray against the blackgray night (OH Please!) undulated together like two gigantenormous starfish SHAGGING, do starfish shag? on a blackgray beach.
Try as it might, it didn't rain, the blackgray (OKAY THAT'S IT!) night Zipped and Zapped like some huge great Zippy Zappy thing; when I looked down it seemed to Zip and Zap more as if to try and attract my attention though I saw but one big Zap right infront. Not one Zip did I see.
Accompanying the Zipping and Zapping were rumblings that sounded like my innards an hour or so after curried beans.

AT THIS POINT I went to bed. And still it didn't rain. When does the next Nobel for Literature come up?

HEY, IF SHAKESPEARE was so brilliant, how come he didn't win a Nobel for Literature EH?

BONUS POINTS if anyone can recognise my posting titles.
JUST LEAVE a message.

Summer Time and the Living is

IESU GRIST! but it's friggin' hot today.
So what's been going on...

SUNDAY 2006 1st JAN, had a relationship crisis. The Good Lady asked for some "time off", I took that as a message but since then (principally because of a wonderful conversation with the GL herself) I've realized that our relationship is in fact stronger than ever and the "time off" is just that. We all need our time off.

I'VE TAKEN UP my Irish Tin Whisle and started to blow and PEEEEEP away again, it's a beautiful little instrument - in fact I've got three of them, each one has a distinct sound - at the mo I'm trying to learn "A Fig for a Kiss", an Irish jiggy reely thing. I can't help wondering if my neighbours are getting pissed off but according to my friend Sergio, a professional musician and Highland Pipes player, in order to practice and perfect one shouldn't be concerned about neighbours. I wonder what HIS neighbours think of him and the bagpipes?!

AS I MENTIONED right there at the top, it's been jolly hot today, a marvelous build up to a summer storm which happened just now. I couldn't resist going out onto the terrace into the pouring rain, dressed only in a pair of short shorts, wonderful feeling - didn't quite have the courage to strip completely though I would've loved too, if the GL had been here she would've perhaps encouraged such outrageous behavior.

I'VE JUST RUN OUT OF BEER!!
I'm away down the corner shop


FUCKING HOT AND STUFFY.
and a ice cold beer helps