In Soviet Russia...Vodka drink you!

So the other week I went on a wee voyage to Moscow to visit my old mate Dr Graham von Kopenhagen. We used to work together as language assistants in France, and unfortunately he's a lanky yankee bastard.

Firstly went to Geneva for an all-nighter. Was sat next to a Heineken swigging Feyenoord fan who's got a English bird. 'She's even got me drinking tea with milk, all my friends think I'm gay or retarded or something!' fucking crack-a-jack. Anyways this guy recommended an expat pub in Geneva called The Clubhouse.

I went in there and chatted with a scouser behind the bar, scouse attitude, scouse gab...just not scouse prices. fucking £6 for a Carlsberg eh eh eh what the fuck mate eh eh eh. He booted me out after 1am and I had time to kill. Walked a few miles to the UN building and took a few photos and whatnot.

No guards around so I tried to break through the fences, and waved at security cameras. Got tired and went to a tram station. Decided the pavement looked comfy and as no-one was around I lay down on the floor to sleep. Didn't work, got worried about being bum raped, but I found a public toilet (this is Geneva so you can pretty much eat your dinner of a toilet seat) laid some toilet paper down and curled up on the floor of a cubicle using a toilet roll as a pillow. Slept like a baby...who needs hostels eh.

Went on to Moscow. Was expecting to meet Graham at the airport, instead I got greeted by shitloads of Uzbekistani 'official' taxi drivers, wouldn't recommend 'em unless you wanna wake up a week later with certain vital organs missing. Chances are Liam Neeson won't be around to fetch you either. Eventually that cunt Graham showed and we went back to his hood in Varshavskaya, SE Moscow. The metro is pretty cool, there are many beautiful stations yet it can be gritty like shitty Paris metro. The punishment for not swiping your ticket isn't so glamorous...a swift blow to the kneecaps by a motion sensor. Very cruel. Very Russian.

All is well 

Paralympics for you boyo 

Thing about Moscow is you've gotta look past the whole eastern Europe thing and realise this is an expensive city. There's like a billion billionaires that live here...however there are also reams of old ladies with nicer mustaches than Ron Burgundy. It's not overly nice in Moscow, though there's a surprising lack of hobos...I think they get liquidated in the night by Spetsnaz. There is however lots of street advertising.

Unfortunately the Doktor had to leave me on occasions as I couldn't fit into his schedule so I'd wait at home for him whilst he was teaching, he took me with him another time though, leaving me in the park for 40mins to play Angry Birds whilst he went upstairs to rail his missus. Didn't get laid out there, not much of a shock though if we're being honest. They're all homely women like Welsh Girl, that aren't up for a quickie (maybe unlike Welsh Girl in this sense), but wanna make you dinner, knit you socks and eventually make beautiful Soviet children with you in the West.

Had a few good days of sight-seeing though; St Basil's Cathedral, Red Square, The Kremlin, the Cosmonaut Museum, more Cathedrals, McDonalds and shit like that really. Was devastated to hear Lenin's tomb was closed, couldn't sleep that night.


I got drunk every night and played pool. It's like £4 a pint in most places so it's pretty depressing. Surprisingly our Russki cousins don't slurp voddie like a whore on spunk, barely saw the stuff, they're mostly lager louts like us to be honest. Realised on my last night that I'd yet to try vodka and caviar, so we went to a resto and had our fill. Vodka was alright, caviar was interesting. £4 for a bit of fish spunk, think they saw me coming on that one.

One thing I liked about Moscow was the language. It's not normal letters, it's fucked up stuff that only seems normal after a few pints of Сибирская корон! It made shopping fun though, plus they like weird shit too. Got more photos on Facebook but here's a few. 

All in all it was a good crack out there, good to see Graham again too. Wouldn't recommend Moscow if you're looking for conventional tourism, the locals recommend St Petersberg and I do too.


My brother Paddy is now an aspiring rapper so please check his shit out. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6GA_xBVYNo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KaF-ZuMl4U&feature=relmfu

Saloufest & one last trip to Reims

Managed to wrangle a week off work to go to Salou with the lads. Basically it's a massive pissup in Torres land disguised as a uni sporting event. Sure we got to play some flag football, but we were boozing too!

The coach journey...26 hours of a match made in hell - the brains of the organisation pairing the Stags on a coach with Solent rugby, and while you're at it you might leave a Chinese restaurant owner alone in Battersea dogs home!

Lots of chunder, lots of boozing, a bit of Sharpie rape...wish I'd have paid the extra few bob and Ryanair'd it down there.

We had a good laugh out there, again lots of chunder and lots of boozing. Fancy dress themes were a good crack with the following:

Tight n Bright:



p.s. i don't like absinthe!


300:




Superheroes (in my case super-Tebow!)




and finally...Pokemon: Diglett




don't ask me what I was doing, most likely slung a few Pesetas at a chica for something or other.


We even made various media outlets. There was a video of us singing our hearts out on some Spanish website, and Metro online had a photo some paedo pete took of the boys wearing speedos on the beach.


Got to the flag football final, lost to Solent. Not bad considering we had a hungover QB wearing a dress with a 6-pack shaved into his gut.





Dana was having a good night...


Anyway did something naughty on the coach back that I shouldn't talk about on here, so ask me about after a few snakebites in Jesters.

Got ditched at Calais and made my way to Reims where I met up with the gangbangers. Will, Jen and Welsh Girl came to visit. We had a laugh.





At the Martel Champagne House with the bitches...they didn't take kindly to me using International Drinking Rules, not my fault if double taps and pennying are built-in boozing mechanisms!


We went to Lazer Game aswell, fucking quality time. I came 2nd out of 12, got beat by Will 'Fish Filet' McStay. Gunna send my scores in to the boys at Hereford, shouldn't have a problem getting into the SAS the way I poon the noobs.





With all the Americans playing, surprisingly there was no friendly fire!


And that was it.

Did you hear about the fight at the chip shop...the fish got battered!

So this weekend I went to visit a few good friends of mine in Angers, out west near Nantes. Jade and Welsh Girl live there. The kids came too...fuck think I forgot the family photo.

Started off pretty grand, the sun was shining and there wasn't a homeless person in sight. Had a bit of a run-in with a local restauranteur as his board price differed to the bill for my steak...cheeky bugger was feeding me a load of old cobblers saying that the board price is just a 'proposition'...propositions are for window workers in Amsterdam. Prick ruined my day.

We went bowling as a family and a few of Welsh Girl and Jade's friends came along, and it wasn't like Bowlplex I tell ya, they even sold Duff beer too. Instead of playing as WILL2, I decided to play as RAYMOND...somehow things got muddled in the translation so I became BRAYMOND, we also had PETHANY and JELLEAN playing too!




Dyslexia or not...the guy at the bowling alley was still a cunt.







Pretty fuckin' cool eh.


Needless to say I won the first game, fucking dominated with the Mack Daddy strikes, then in the second game the Duff's got to me and I was shite, I mean Emile Heskey shite. Jen won the second game...she got 3 strikes in a row. I was proud.


We went out to a place called 'SoftBar' sounds like a place where the Gary Glitter Fan Club hang out, but really it's like a homely version of Sobar. Ended up doing the standard late-night kebab jobbie whilst Barbie was getting chatted up by the mush cutting up my packwrap. Played a game of 'Shag, Marry, Kill' when we got back and I was getting too philosophical in my answers, preferring to kill a renowned local feminist out of principal then having to bite the bullet and marry a ginger. swings and roundabouts i suppose.






McStay mastering the art of putting duvet cover into said duvet.



So Jade tells us there's this lake with sand nearby and that we should check it out. An hour of walking and we've still not arrived...never been a fan of relying on a woman's directions but hairy muff there wasn't any whining about it.

We meet all the gang down there, we just sat down, got a grassy arse and watched kiddies brutally hack off the head of a dead fish, tryna give it the Marie Antoifuckinette treatment. There was an audience, it was like a Roman ampitheatre but instead of Russell Crowe it was a gang of 6 year olds playing pinata with the fish by beating the fuck out of it with a stick, they were proud 6 year olds too. I asked one of the youngsters if he wanted to come to my car with me cus I had sweets for him, oh wait that was another time, but anyway they let me take a photo of the carcasses they had created, funny how when the jerries come over the border they'll surrender but they'll show no mercy to a poxy dead fish.

It's a hard fuckin' life, I bet he had kids an' all.



Will and Jen got into that typical everyday sibling argument as to whether a car can pass its MOT with a speedometer that doesn't work, I decided it cus I've got a mate that drives without one and he's just fine. Then we went and got drunk a bit, saw the girls get into a pushing and elbowing match with some eyeties, they were pretty feckin' monging aswell wouldn't touch 'em with a barge pole, all for the minibus queue to a club we didn't go to. Went to another club, it was alright. Bare no dwarfs was the cry when Verne Troyer's bitch passed us by.


All in all a pretty tidy weekend I spose, always good to be back with the gang, they'll be in Reims in 2 weeks so I'll hit you up with another tale then...if not, then just wait longer.


Hearing murmurs there's the odd Claude, Pierre and Mathieu reading this that aren't keen on the way I talk about France/Frogs/Quality of Cheese on this here blog. Well, no-one's perfect, especially France, deal with it. Peace out bitches.

Guzzling Guinness with the Galloise.

Last Saturday was St Paddy's Day so thought I'd celebrate it in style. Went around the block a bit, firstly to T-royes on Friday night, had a few beers with Sarah and saw in St Paddy's in an Irish pub there called 'Le Furious' not a bad little joint either. 

Got a covoiturage to Reims with someone called Camille. Turns out it can be a blokes name aswell :S Best covoiturage ever though, got a free beer on the ride to Reims.

Met Kiersten and Lauren, both reppin the rugby shirts and went to the Sherlock pub, but it was decked out in Paddy gear all day. It's a weird old place where the heating is on full whack, the waiters wear kilts and the clientele deserve a good slap to the head...myself included.

Got my Guinness on, watched the rugby, Wales beat France so I was happy to get on the wagon and be a sheepshagger for a couple of hours. Watched Ireland lose to England...thank fuck I didn't watch it in blighty I suppose. Post-match packwrap.

Turns out the best way to sober up after drinking all afternoon is to play Lazer Game, like lazer quest, quazar, kony wars etc. Had a half hour game on there and felt more sober than George Best at his own funeral. Fucking great time shooting people with lazers, getting the COD tactics on the go n shit like that. Our team won of course, with Devin 'Shoot 'em Up' Merchant being the marksman on the team.

Surprisingly there was no friendly fire given all the Americans playing!






















They even gave us cards with our stats on...can't wait to tell mum. 3rd out of 8 isn't too bad, better than Ross Kemp.

Then we went on to Hemingway's for the standard Saturday night jobbie. Ended up meeting a few German birds, buying a packwrap, going to a house (French people love inviting you to their home because you're foreign...and thus more susceptible to chloroform), never ate the packwrap, went back with zee Germans at like 5.30 ja and that was it really.

Off to Angers next week to re-unite with the gang, so expect another post next week then.



Boggy on the line...he didn't realise Rumble's had a tit job. Oh I laughed.

Allez les rouges!

I had a pretty neato weekend in all fairness. You've probably seen me bragging about it on the Facebook and thought, 'cuntasaurus-rex alert', that's what I tend to think when people are having fun whilst I'm sat alone in the dark surrounded by Coke cans and crusty Kleenex.




never heard of it.

Friday I was all over the shop. Felt good telling people how bad their English was...and got paid to do so. Went Troyes for a bit, then ended up in Chalons with Big Mike and Dave. Mike was well cool and tried transferring 300GB of shit to his laptop from Dave's hard drive...pretty much fried his Dellboy.

Reims on Saturday. Went to the footy, Reims beat Angers 3-0, pretty cool.

Went on the beers, got the standard rejection notice from this bar cus we're Brits, walked off effing and blinding...all of a sudden the Reims football players leave the bar, we have a chinwag in the street and cus there's bare bitches with us they take us on to this other club.




mush in the middle is number 9, cedric faure.


We get to the club, rub a dub dub. Getting dodgy vibes from the Reims boys, that awkward moment when you're not used to VIP, not sure where to sit, which is my pimp slapping hand etc.
Stood at the bar to avoid it but faure, the legend, taps me on the shoulder 'nous sommes la-bas' (translate it yourself) and i rock up in VIP. Spent the next few hours mingling, meeting players, photos, bitches and whatnot. Personally I sold my soul to the devil by actively pimping out the girls just so I could hang out with the ballers and drink free champagne. Reminds me of the old Nazi dating exchange:

'Retired Army officer of 45 with GSOH seeks young maiden of 18-25 to pro-create with. Must have aryan features and child-bearing hips. Kinder, Küche, Kirche is a must.' 








Now, where was I.




Me and Kamel Ghilas...9 goals this season and on loan from Hull City. He likes Jimmy Bullard.

Oh yeah, had a lot of fun and I didn't get molested so it was ok. I feel like more and more of a cunt every time I write this shit.


Standard Sunday of chocolate milk, trains and having to deal with French people.

Xantu's Palace

It's been a fun few days in my world. Or has it, I dunno but either way it was pretty rad. Went to Reims last weekend, had a few beers, couldn't sleep one night cus I thought it would be a good idea to OD on coffee at 4am. Funnily enough the other lads in my room paid for extra rooms cus they were out with the Pussay Patrol that night...shame paying 50euro each didn't result in getting one's willy wet. Swear down Amsterdam is cheaper and more efficient.



Then I went to Troyes, saw Lenny Henry score on his return for Arsenal. Hairy muff, that's why fairytales were written. Tuesday started out shite as I had to go for meetings and spend the day speaking French about how my job is going, and improvements I can make to it. Spent most of my time eyeing up the potential and taking the mick out of foreign people, bloody Spaniards came so we had to speak French...poxy San Miguel chugging cunts.

***I'M SUCH A FUCKHEAD FOR FORGETTING*** Ginny had us introduce ourselves and I was first up. 'Bonjour, je m'appelle William, et je suis alcoolique'. That was me sorted for the day. Beats the teacher who during her turn started airing her grievances towards Ginny (sporting a new haircut) all the while our buddy Alex has his name mentioned every other sentence as his responsable starts chatting shit about the hard life of an assistant, personally I zoned out and started thinking what a lovely pair of tits the girl sat near me was sporting. Loving life 2k12.



Went for lunch at Xantu's Palace, and had a lovely portion of scrambled eggs spiced up Indian style by Head Chef Xantu...the restaurant is also situated at a hostel with a drug den, brothel and ping pong facilities on-site.

Shantanu 'Xantu' Pendharkar and me at Hemmy's in Reims.

After a boring afternoon of shit French talk, and me and Copenhagen talking about the different ways we'd kill the annoying French teachers (my favourite was the standard 'hey does this smell like chloroform to you?' then you go for a cheeky 2am trip to the Ardennes forest) they finally let us go.



We returned to Xantu's Palace for Ping Pong, Amsterdam Navigators and Live Lounge from one of Copenhagen's kiddies. One of the kiddies that lives with Xantu was at mackem uni up in Sunderland last year and he was a laugh saying 'down it fresher' and talking about crazy pub crawls in his French accent. Le lol. Poor fucker got battered by a Geordie for wearing a Newcastle Utd top his mates bought him as a joke on his bday, fair play for saying he was a mackem though lol.


We had this new girl join the gang, Laura, of Paddy-Yank origin. Well I'm pretty sure she just tagged along but hey ho. She's a little thing but hairy muff she was chugging back the Amsterdam Maxinator's without taking a trip to Chundertown.

And that was about it really.

Blighty and a shit attempt at philosophy.

I've been a bit quiet lately, mostly because I've been getting acquainted with Modern Warfare 3, and re-acquainted with Babestation. I've been back in blighty for two weeks and now I'm told I've gotta be back in France on Monday. Fuck a duck.

It's nice to be in a country where I'm not watching my every step for dog shite and romany gypsies. Christmas was nice, was with the family and I got some slippers and a few wifebeaters some I'm loving life. Nothing much happens. Get drunk some nights, spend the next morning regretting it in the sink (or on a train like this morning fml) play a lot of Madden, poon the odd noob on COD, then crack into my Michael Palin box set. Exciting times.

I write this in 2012. Whoop de fucking do. Buy a new calendar. Nothing really changes. All the people that see it as a new start. 3 weeks later and they're back on the fags and the dust has settled on that Max and Paddy fitness DVD. You want to change your live. Move to the North Korea. I'm sure Kim Jong-Un would appreciate a good barber. They say the world's gunna end in 2012, fuck the Mayans, it'll be that obese gook at the forefront of it, riding shotgun with the devil himself.

On the upside Katy Perry's back on the open market.