Nottingham

A few words on Nottingham, where the Cistern Kid, iPOD Perv and I have spent the last few days. These are deliberately disjointed jottings (if there can be such things).

Sherwood Forest - lost - iPOD Perv looking as if on verge of death - 8 miles, mostly without water

Wind - terribly foul. Always ensure I am walking ahead of iPOD Perv.

Victoria Hotel, Beeston - excellent

Newark - blimey! It has a castle.

Chutneys - bleedin' crooks

Bramley Apple - lovely (glug)

Harts - lovely restaurant. One of the guests was a young lady in a 'little black number'. Beautiful. Accompanied by chap wearing lurid shirt. Semi-dork. Food was exquisite.

Hotel - drunkenly cavorting behind reception desk trying to woo Slovakian receptionist with a rendition of Edith Piaf's 'Non, je ne regrette rien'.

Tom Browns - flirted with staff (mostly female). One of our party went in and out of consciousness during the meal.

Not much mixing between races, judging from what we have observed in the city centre. Me and the guys have had the odd funny look. Sad. Unless of course they think we make a particularly unattractive looking gaggle of gays (which we do).

Famed ratio of women to men - utter bollocks.

Drunken women in her 50s hitting on the Cistern Kid with the winning line of 'How big is your tadger?' He slowly backs away.

Yes, it's all fun, fun, fun!

Now some photos:

A Fine-Looking Piece of Fowl

Drinking: the Sport of Champions

Wicker Man: the Musical

The View from my Cell after I Take the Wicker Man Restaging Too Far

The Cistern Kid Looking Ready for Lurve (I assume that's what his left hand is doing)

The Cistern Kid's Harem