Heat, Sweat and Brundlefly

I'm lying in my room in this heat, stuck with sweat to a leather sofa. I feel like I'm in a 1980s Cadbury's Flake advert. Or maybe an African mother whose breast milk has dried up thanks to Nestle (allegedly).

I'm not sure which, I'm very dehydrated. I can't get up, I'm here stuck like brundlefly.



I was going to tell you all about a dream I had last night but then I remembered that other people's dreams bore the fuck out of me.

Knife Fights In Alleyways With Crackheads and Hookers Shooting Dope or maybe that was a dream I had

I've given the blog a bit of a revamp so it doesn't look like My First Blog 1.0. It now looks gritty, like you can read about my adventures in London and imagine me walking around with something like this playing as a soundtrack.



How gritty? City Life! Cool! Yeah!

I'll be hanging out with crackheads and having knife fights in alleyways in no time. This isn't quite the life I planned to lead when I came here so we'll see how it goes.

Which brings me on to why I came here. You see I keep teasing by not saying where I'm from but it's not just a case of "go on, bet you can't guess." It's really that there's some nasty wankers would be very interested to track me down and pummel my head in. Kick me down a flight of apples and pears if you get me.

So in a way I suppose I am teasing about where I'm from, just not teasing you dear reader. Unless you're someone who wants to catch up with me from where I'm from. In which case I think that London's a great place to hide.

Oh and that picture isn't of me. It's of some guy I found on google image search. I look like him a bit I suppose, in the right light.

Larging It Up The Apples and Pears

It's been a week since you heard from me, and that's kind of because I haven't been larging it up the apples and pears like I intended to. Don't worry I haven't been sitting in the house bored. I've been taking my time to explore the city.

First thing I should say is that I love Camden. I'm sure there's people who can say bad stuff about it (like N-Dubz come from there), but that doesn't bother me. I walked around the markets thinking about how any time I'd went to markets back in ________ _______ that this is what I wanted them to be. Basically it doesn't disappoint because anything it does it does it properly (or proper, or even propah! see I'm picking up the accent already).

I went and got my hair cut in a salon called Hob near the Regents Canal. I did model for them (you see I'm good looking enough to be a model). It wasn't like when I did stylists model back in _______, where you just got a free haircut. No they sat me down and talked about what styles they could give me, and what techniques would work best on my hair. It was great. I came out of the salon with a swanky new do that made me look great (I'm saying this not to boast about myself but to compliment them on giving me a great cut)and walked through Camden like Burt Reynolds on holiday (I have no tasche).

I'll tell you about other places I've explored as I explore them, but Camden (which isn't too big a bus/tube ride away from where I'm staying at the mo) is my new favourite place to go here.

Dumb Burglar Experience No.1

Some dumb bastard tried to burgle my house today. He tried to be a crafty cunt and ring the doorbell first to see if anyone was in. My housemates and me always lock the door when we're away out (whether there's anyone else in the house or not - it's habit rather than being anal). So I had to get my keys and run downstairs. This took me a while and as I reached the top of the stairs I heard a clicking like he was putting something in the lock.

I opened the door and asked what he wanted. He said he was "here about the Fiesta" I told him there was no fiesta at which point he didn't look too disappointed and started to walk off. My neighbour who was going into his house at the time said "he was trying your lock with a screwdriver" and took a photo of the dumb bastard would-be burglar, who promptly took to his heels.

What every Fiesta buyer needs

I'll give the photo to the cops but if they do nothing with it I'll stick the thing on here for all to see, just in case any of you in London happen upon this dumb bastard. I've had stuff nicked before and I'm not letting some dumb bastard do it too me in London.

Burglars get fucked.

My First Celeb

Being in London I knew that at some point I'd see someone famous, like properly famous, not just some regional maybe-is that shows up for photo ops every chance they get (supermarket openings, voxpops for regional news snippets, funerals of other non-famous people) because they aren't famous anymore or worse never were (except for some time they slabbered at someone on the radio or their band played support for a nearly famous band or had a number 2 hit in an obscure country [that last one is alright actually - if only they'd go there and stay]).

Anyways there I was in Camden a couple of days ago, browsing through clothes in the market and who should I come across but Kaya Scoled, Kaya Scodol, Kaya scodeler Effie from Skins.

Her face when she realised I was staring at her

I was getting reading to bang out my best London Lines Danny Dyer style, just taking a minute to go through my lines, and when I looked up again she had disappeared into the crowd.

That's how it is in London. You get one chance and then it's, oh fuck I don't know I'm just pissed off it didn't happen. Now I don't have some story to sell to the tabloids about me and some bird from Skins. I could really do with the money.

Ways to get respect and street cred number 1

I've moved the blog to this address http://ldnpiss.blogspot.com because it's easier to scribble on toilet walls.

I've also moved the first two posts, just in case anyone thought I was some over excited type who just endlessly posts and posts every thought that comes into his head (eg. I just ate a packet of prawn cocktail crisps! LOL!).

I still haven't made any friends yet, but I saw someone on my bus home from Shoreditch last night that made me feel better about it.

I say saw I didn't see him because I was on the upper deck but I heard him loud and clear, so did everyone else on the bus.

There was all this shouting downstairs as someone new came on the bus. He was shouting something about 'respect' and how he wanted to be shown it. He kept repeating himself, over and over that 'you don't show someone respect by slamming a door in their face'. I think what happened was he tried to board the bus as it was pulling off from the stop and he had to squeeze in through the closing doors like a low-rent male Gwyneth Paltrow in that film that brought me here.

Balls

It's funny how he was shouting away about respect to a bus driver. A bus driver isn't there to show you respect: he's there to drive the fucking bus. True, it's nice when they're nice but if you're the sort of person who has to demand respect off a bus-driver then you're really just setting up hurdles for yourself.

I hope the guy didn't do something bad like go home and trash his house, then burn it down, then say to the cops and the fire brigade:

"It's was all the fucking bus driver's fault. He made me so angry because he didn't show me any respect!"

Charlie Fink's Hairdo Spotted in Shoreditch

There I was, all friendless and wandering around trendy Shoreditch hoping to make cool friends when I went into The Book Group. I had a great idea how to make myself instantly likeable. I started whistling the start of 5ive Years Time by Noah and The Whale (giving it real pep) but nobody took any notice. No one could hear me over the noise of the ping pong table.

I was crushed (my heart was crushed - it's metaphorical like) but I resorted to plan B (not the sensational Rap/R&B -er) I took my wallet out at the bar and said to two tasty ladies in the style of Danny Dyer (see previous entry):

"What you want giwl a dwink? Want a Tech-iwa, a couple of cheeky tech-iwas? you laaaaaaaaaaaaaaave it?"

They didn't answer. I drank the tequila's myself and went outside and sat on the pavement all dizzy and unhappy. Then I saw what looked like Charlie Fink from the aforementioned Noah and The Whale come wondering out. It was hard to tell when I was so pissed, it might only had been his hairdo, or maybe his hairdo's stunt double. I couldn't be sure, and when I opened my pissed mouth what came out in my ______ accent was too garbled to be intelligible to anyone but me.

When will I make friends in London?

My First Day

I've moved to London. It's been a funny few days, proper something or other I'm not sure. I've only just started learning the London lingo. I don't know any Londoners yet (my housemates are all French) so I haven't had a chance to expose them to my ________ accent yet. (I'm not telling you where I'm from you see).

What I will tell you is that, on my first proper day here (after sleeping off travel exhaustion etc) I went for a touristy walk (and tube). I saw Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament and a prostitute in Soho arguing with a customer in front of a bobby (London cop) about how she'd slept with him so he wasn't getting his money back.

It was great. I feel like a local already.

That said I'm not sure I want to lose my _________ accent. Though based on past experiences I'll be sounding like these mutherfuckers in a few weeks: