Berlin - May your teeth and clothes be with you

During my last stay in Berlin, the hotel that I booked tried to put me into a smoking room. My single, not unreasonable request was to have a non-smoking room. I have a special skill you see; I can detect that someone has been smoking through at least three walls and over a time period of around three years. On a good day, I could give the princess and the pea a run for her money, in the detecting stakes. I went through four rooms before the hotel got the picture (aside 1) , they were dealing with someone who would not accept sleeping in, what amounted to be an over sized ashtray. They begrudgingly upgraded me. I have never done this before, requesting to change rooms in a hotel. I can definitely recommend it; it’s like the good old days when you could happily send food back in a restaurant (aside 2) before all those TV exposē programs appeared, demonstrating all the unspeakable things that happened to the food when you did.

The upgraded room was all of 1.5" bigger, had an extra mirror and a semi-organic kettle. How do I know it was semi-organic, some of you may ask. Well that’s easy, organic non-food items are biodegradable so that they do not have a future impact on our environment. This kettle started to break itself down as soon as it boiled. Incidentally, it is the actual boiling process that prevented it from gaining true organic status. By boiling, the kettle disqualified itself ; a true organic electrical item would fail to work, thus saving the Earths vital resources.
The Organic Kettle, environmentally friendly but like all Organic non-food goods, ultimately useless for what it is designed to do. Just don't get me started on the food.

With all the stress from the hotel, I decided to have a nice relaxing massage. Whilst I accepted that there would be a certain amount of nakedness on my part, I had not expected “inappropriate nakedness” from my masseuse. One minute it was all polite conversation the next her clothes just fell off, leaving me speechless to say the least. I was just relieved that I had gone for the “classic” rather than the "intimate" option. These Europeans just have no inhibitions. When my friend Mitch heard about it, all he wanted to know was "Did you get a boner?" Good god man I was too busy keeping my eyes shut to notice. Mrs B was equally unhelpful asking me if the woman had prodded and probed my nether regions and if she was sporting a Brazilian. I explained to Mrs B I was too busy doing a possum impression (aside 4) to take much notice. I am pleased to report that I was offered no extras, unless you count fruit and some chocolates; I really don’t believe it was "that" type of establishment and although the poor woman suffered from cheap clothing, that apparently fell apart with the slightest movement, she was actually a very good masseuse. I did not however leave a large tip in case it was misinterpreted.....

Readers of a more delicate nature will be delighted to hear that there are no pictures of this incident, at least I hope not. Until the next BlackLOG may your clothes and teeth be with you...


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1) The porter, who was showing me round was doing his best to sympathise, stating in broken English "I know vort u mean, I do nort like the Smokey smells myself". This would have cut more ice if he did not have yellow stained fingers and reek of cheap booze and fags. It was like being in a scene from "Withnail and I".

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2) I only remember sending food back once in my life. I was about 19 years old and some friends and I had spent a long weekend in Bournemouth (aside 3).We decided to stop off at a sophisticated restaurant on our way home, something like a “Bernie Inn”. We all ordered a Florida cocktail as a starter, believing mistakenly that it would contain prawns. We called the waiter over and questioned what we had received; he apologised, whisked the dishes away and returned about half an hour later. The only apparent change was the dishes now had a Glace cherry on top. Looking back, I hate to think what happened to those dishes during the 30 minutes absence from our lives. Having seen the film “Road Trip” where the guy sends his French Toast back I now feel a bit queasy…..

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3) I believe the purpose of the trip was to pick up ladies. Unfortunately we were a bit fussy and one of our requirements was that the ladies had to sleep with their own teeth and I don’t mean in a glass on the bedside table. In hindsight a little more research might have steered us away from Bournemouth and indeed Eastbourne, the destination of the next failure to pickup suitable women tour. We gave up touring shortly after that believing that no women under the age of 60 lived beyond an hour’s drive of Upminster.

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4) Yes Clive, having spent some time with you in India, your Possum demonstrations proved far more useful then I would have ever thought. Feel free to invoice me, you won’t actually get paid but do feel free to send it….

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McG demonstrating his possum pose