Friday, February 09, 2001

9th February 2001

The week began well enough with a visit to a Turkish Bath. No, not
one like that you smutty individuals, a proper one. I had always
fancied a visit to this old Turkish Bath in Ironmonger Row in London
since I saw a feature on it during a local tv show. I fancied having
the full massage, body scrub and shave but decided on the £10 for as
long as you want to sweat. Stayed in there with my mate Phil for a
few hours and came out absolutely squeeky clean. The cold plunge was
a vibe but does not do much for your self esteem when you look down
and see your tackle has shrunk to the size of a small acorn and your
nuts have headed north to your stomach to avoid being frozen ( sorry
about the graphic details ladies ). I think we are going to go once
and month and get a few chaps along and pretend to be gangsters in
there planning our next big job. The week ended with me doing a
short spell behind bars. I wasn't arrested I'm afraid, nothing quite
as rock-and-roll. I was serving drinks at a barn dance in my kids
school. I figured that volunteering for bar duty would get me out of
wearing dungarees and prancing about with a straw in my mouth
whooping along to Shania Twain. Line dancing is my pet hate. We have
imported plenty of great things from across the pond but if I was in
charge I would have line dancing outlawed and anyone found wearing a
cowboy hat and a checked shirt would be hung from the nearest tree
unless they were from Nashville. Radical, I know, but these sort of
measures have to be taken.


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