She saved them all in the end…
Long summer break. Very lazy with posts.
Spent all of my writing time editing my latest fantastically hilarious book featuring the voluptuous Fairy Hanny.
“Trans Uranic Elements: The Dark Side of Uranus.” will be available via Amazon as a Paperback or Kindle version before the end of the year.
Love and kisses,
Swifty
Atatürk Airport 9.30 pm on a Saturday night. Check papers, work your way through customs, throw off the term spent in Kazakhstan. Greeted by an old friend and guided to his Gaff. Meet the charming new partner; fantastic dinner with lovely wine.
But then out in the City by midnight looking for a bar that might be showing some World Cup football. I will call it football as I find the term soccer somewhat condescending from the Septics.
Chris somehow managed to get us home by 4 am, which due to the time difference with Almaty my body considered it was 7 am.
‘Hey Mr. M we’ve been awake for 24 hours again,’ it cried out to me as I collapsed into bed.
By 10 we were up and on the go again. First breakfast, as the hobbits would say, consisted of a cup of black coffee, followed as usual by a triple – S. Then into a taxi to head for second breakfast/brunch at a café down by the docks not too far from the Dolmabahçe Palace, a magnificent symbol of opulence built by the 31st Ottoman Sultan Abdulmecid. By that I mean he built the Palace not the café; though I’m sure even Sultans sometimes wish they could get away from it all and go for a pint with the lads.
‘Alright Sultan how’s it going with all the affairs of state, political intrigues, bribes, battles and beheadings?’
‘Fuck that, just get the ales in will you!’
Unlike the Sultan I was able to sit anonymously within the café and order a breakfast starter – one litre of Efes beer. Chris of course had one too! Then the next part of this splendid breakfast fair comprised two more litres of Efes; then two more; then two more. ..
It was a time for reflection. Last time I had visited Istanbul I was married; I used to say ‘happily married’ but my definition of happiness has moved on a long way over the years.
History.
History oozes from the pores of the City Streets.
Greeks; Romans; Byzantines; Crusaders; Ottomans; Turks; and everyone else in between and before and to come.
Football too, permeates the atmosphere; the new stadium for Besiktas under construction one hundred and eleven years after their formation, adding to the summer dust of this great city.
Sadly when I think of football and Istanbul I think of murder. Two fans from Leeds murdered; two fans from Chelsea stabbed; riots after local Derby matches. For many young Turkish men football is followed with a religious fervour.
Chris and I discussed this as the litres of Efes flowed. For my sins when I am in the UK I go to watch Everton or Ipswich – similar shirts and places where I have lived! COYB! Arriving at either Goodison Park or Portman Road thirty minutes before kick-off the ground will contain a few youngsters with their grandfathers, or increasingly, grandmothers. Then 15 minutes before the start of the game the ground fills and the chanting begins. Not so for football fans in Istanbul. The ground is full hours ahead of the start time, maniacal chanting, threats to the opposition fans, coins being thrown and bright red flares being lighted; I suppose you could call it pre-match entertainment slightly less formal than that organised by the Septics.
Anyway the ‘breakfast’ litres continued to flow as my belly continued to grow!
Sometime in the late afternoon we prepared for the main event of the day. Apparently Chris was going to dinner with members of his department to celebrate the end of the school year. So onto the ferry, not across the Mersey, but across the Bosphorus, to dip a toe into Asian Turkey. I know we went for dinner somewhere and I chatted all night. I remember gorgeous streets, cafes, bars, restaurants and stunning women. Then a ferry back, to eventually fall into bed, jet lagged and pissed.
No idea what time we got home, though I knew I had the good fortune to be able to stay in bed the next morning.
What a great breakfast!
Sadly young Beaver is not the smartest detective at the picnic. He misquotes though I’m not sure if it is deliberate or not…
Water off a Dutch back.
No pockets in a crowd.
Daft as a bush.
You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him think.
Too many cooks spoil the pudding.
He who laughs last, laughs last.
A stich in time saves mine.
All good things must come to amend.
All that glitters isn’t cold.
If you make your bed you’d better spy on it.
As you so-so shall you weep.
Beauty is only skin diver.
Beauty is in the eye of the cuckolder.
Better the devil you know rather than sorry.
Crime doesn’t play.
Excretion is the better part of valour.
Sitting, watching, pondering, wandering.
Istanbul bookshops and bizarre bazaars; favourite city,
Oozing my childhood testament from every pore,
City battered and beaten and rocked to its core.
“Simon! Simon! Phillip wants your money, pay up or die!”
Armies marching, marching, marching; did you hear that Mr March?
Constantinople; Byzantium; Istanbul.
Three Cities in One, like Jerusalem.
Three in one – there’s an idea.
But there is only one God.
Papal Bulls hit the Templars.
No decrees, though actually Nisi and Absolute.
Two degrees – well done old chap; I’d rather do the three degrees.
I watched as the stray dog described my mood,
Mooching, searching, lost; hoping for any sign of affection.
Affectation – can I borrow you pen?
Highlighting and delighting;
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home!
You moan, “she left me,” “he left me,”
Twenty more will come.
Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?
The waiter serves Fish – ‘I caught it myself’.
More beer.
Drink all your passions and be a disgrace.
A vain Malaysian man who ordered a penis enlarger online was stunned when the device was delivered – a magnifying glass!
To add insult to injury the magnifying glass came with an instruction that would at least prevent the man from causing injury to himself.
It read: Do Not Use in Sunlight.
The victim of an elaborate scam, which cost him the equivalent of £100 for a £5 magnifier has been named only as Ong, the chairman of Malaysia’s customer complaints bureau, Mr Seri Michael Chong, told The Star newspaper.
‘As you can imagine, he is feeling rather disgruntled,’ said Mr Chong.
The deflated and embarrassed customer has not come forward to reveal who he ordered the penis enlarger from.
‘The unfortunate gentleman is just one of many who have fallen victims to these kind of misleading scams,’ Mr Chong said.
‘Men and women are equally vulnerable to these scams. Three people lost a total of more than £15,000 to these scams this year alone.’
The man has refused to come forward and name the company he bought the enlarger from. Lawyers say he is unlikely to get his money back due to the dubious nature the business
Online tricksters, he said, lure their victims by selling their products at a low price and very often the items never get to their customers.
Lawyer Alex Kok said that unsatisfied customers who wished to sue online criminals would find it difficult to do so due to the dubious nature of the business.
‘It is especially hard if there is no proof of purchase, such as receipts.
‘We wouldn’t know who to sue or where and how to sue them,’ he told the paper.
I want to thank my friends at the Crack On Foundation for this one.
And what of Fairy Hanny?
Well it will be of no great surprise to realise that this stoic Handmaiden of the Fat King Innocent carried on regardless. She would have preferred to carry on cruising with her cousin Mutch; however she’d accept she would have to carry on camping with this bunch of retards. The swamp wood was depressing and she understood that soon they would have to carry on up the jungle in order to locate the Castle of Maurice. Her only real concern just now related to the creepy looks she sometimes got from Ken Tucky; looks that said he’d like to carry on up the Khyber.
Fairy Hanny 