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Drinking, smoking and homosexuals November 30, 2006

Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.

Just settling in for the long haul. I’ve had a brilliantly constructive day. I must have thought about doing a jot of work for at least twelve seconds, perhaps twice, before confining the idea to the dustbin, but it’s good to know where you stand. Then the Russian and I went off on a shoppery. I’ve got a feeling brokeness might be about to attack again soon so, before it could get a look in, I decided to be extra extravagant. Card not refused. Signature correct. Got home. Had a delicious and early dinner, to whose manufacture I contributed, thus avoiding a domestic moment. The Russian dashed off to bed, because he’s been working like a demon of late and didn’t sleep AT ALL last night. So here I am. Just me, you, the computer, red wine and fags.

Which all sounds heavenly. And is heavenly. But, and I don’t know if it’s from vestiges of religious guilt and me feeling naughty at having sniggered at religious leaders’ garb earlier, but I’m feeling awfully conscience-stricken. I might have to pour myself another glass of red.

I think it’s perhaps a combination of religious residue and exposure to Russia, actually, that has sent my conscience whirring into a rare moment of activity. I think I was vaguely brought up to think pleasure and comfort are sins and best avoided by doing soul-destroying work and eating sandpaper between meals. And then Russia is only going to reinforce that message.

And I had such a deliciously debauched and fun evening yesterday. Proper, straightforward, non-religious, non-Russian fun. Drinking, smoking and homosexuals. An awfully good combination. (Though I love my hetero-brethren too, I hasten to add.) (But queens are better gossips.) (I think.) And I even met another Berlin blogger. The list of bloggers I’ve met in the flesh grows at a cracking pace. And I’ve so nearly met, and will soon, I’m sure, one more.

So the queens and I had a lovely night out. Gossip. Drinking. A bit more gossip. Making concessions to nominal grown-uppery and talking about work for 10 seconds. Then a bit more gossip. Willy-talk. More drinking. Smoking like mad. Saying, “No, we really must go home.” Then staggering in at an obscene hour, frazzled but happy, only to find the Russian red-eyed and exhausted slaving away over a hot computer. The poor bastard.

“I’m bored of this regime,” said the Russian, wearily, as he sipped at his constitutional glass of red with the delicious and early dinner to whose manufacture I had contributed. The Russian, being an immigrant from an undesirable country (as far as the EU is concerned), is strictly limited in what work he can do. Student jobs within the university are the best option, as they are less time-restricted, but he has found a labour-intensive one, which has the saving grace of being perfectly interesting. But he’s slaving, slaving, slaving. And all for a pittance. While I blog and drink and smoke with homosexuals.

So I’m feeling awfully guilty. I’m feeling more pangs of conscience than I did even when I nicked a Mars bar aged about ten and decided to make use of my cousin’s coat-pocket as the hot goods’ getaway vehicle. We got away with the crime, it turns out (but was my cousin – not the perfect one. Another one. My childhood was just like Eastenders. Endless tea and popping in and out of each other’s houses – not pleased at being an unwitting accomplice) but my conscience made me tell my mother, who promptly took me to the scene of the crime and instructed me to pay for the item I’d “forgotten” to pay for… I mean, I don’t think there’s anything morally reprehensible about drinking and smoking myself rancid – with homosexuals or otherwise – but I sometimes worry I’m an awfully poor husband. Is there an operation one can have to remove the fun-seeking elements of the brain and have them replaced with seriousness?

Cheers anyway.



1. Daggi - December 1, 2006

Maybe soon, eh..

Those studenty jobs at the uni pay quite well, in fact – for a studenty job at least. I know many students are very damned jealous of anyone they know with one. They get paid holiday (plus holiday spending money too) , an Xmas bonus (13 months pay for the price of 12), etc. etc. These studenty job people went on strike for all that in West Berlin in the early 80s, and there’s a strike every few years when the universities say “hang on, why don’t we just give them 2,20 an hour and throw them some biscuits”? This is all assuming he’s at a Berlin uni. If he’s in Potsdam or Frankfurt/Oder, my commiserations. I’m not even sure if the Fachhochschule Eberswalde goes as far as the biscuits.

2. Mangonel - December 1, 2006

Are you mad? You are mad. Mad you are then. Why doesn’t the Russian join you at these debaucheries? Sorry to be filling your comments with links, but http://gapingvoid.com has some good manifestos. Manifesti?

And ezzakly how many fags can you fit into your mouth at once?

3. David (TEFL Smiler) - December 1, 2006

Oh go on – get married (“civil-partnered”), and then the Russian will most likely be able to work as much as any EU citizen, and you’ll be able to be a kept man, free to enjoy his excursions at will.

Understanding, by the way, for ye olde “need to be with my own kind”. Too much time in heteroland is just vile and suppressive. Not that anyone you know tries to make it like that – it just is, without them realising. And then, one night out with the bitchiest of queens is enough to last a while, really. But boy, is it needed!

4. David (TEFL Smiler) - December 1, 2006

Having just had my own night out with the queens, I take no responsibility for my comments making any sense. Well drunk, I am!

5. pleite - December 1, 2006

David, yes, it’s fun stocking up on gayness every now and then. I must say I only felt the ‘need’ to go to specifically gay places when I was freshly queer a billion years ago (and when I was in Russia, where I had to lead a partially double life), but it’s still nice going to fraternise (reginise?) once in a while.
As for marriage, don’t you have to actually like each other to do that?
Mango, ooh-er missus! And there was me trying to engage you in a nice respectable convo about religion! No, please link away. And the Russian and I lead fairly separate lives, which is sometimes miserable and sometimes nice. He doesn’t want to come with me to the virtual UK/US and I don’t want to visit the virtual Soviet Union with him. And we both stubbornly refuse to accept the possibility that we might actually live in Germany.
Daggi, it is a Berlin uni, and they’re fine, and it’s fine. Everything’s probably fine, but I just can’t resist the temptation to moan about it endlessly. I didn’t know about all those bonuses. He was obviously planning on hiding those from me and buying himself a life’s supply of buckwheat porridge.

6. MountPenguin - December 1, 2006

As far as I can recall you don’t actually have to legally prove you like each other to get married, just as long as both parties look reasonably consensual during the transaction.

Dunno how it would work out in your case, but Mrs. Penguin, despite being a very non-EU citizen, has got her very own EU citizen’s residence and work permit, which was ridiculously easy to obtain. Only valid for Germany though.

7. BiB - December 1, 2006

Penguin, that is encouraging on both counts. If I grimaced throughout and kept my fingers crossed, would I still technically be married? Though I do like the idea of having a fully economically exploitable husband who could look after me.

8. wyndham - December 1, 2006

This is a troublesome topic for me. I’ve given up smoking again – it’s coming up to a week now but I’m off out carousing tonight. I’m trying to be strong but thoughts of cigarettes keep creeping into my brain – and then I read this!

9. BiB - December 1, 2006

Wynders, will there be smokers amongst the other carousers, in which case I’m struggling not to harbour thoughts that non-smoking might go for a burton. (What in buggery’s name is a burton?) And is it going to be riotous or grown-up carousing? At someone’s house or out? I haven’t got any fags here at the mo and am tempted to give up again today. But I think I’m about to go shopping, to avoid work and trick brokeness, so I might struggle as much as you are doing to resist the temptation. Mind you, you’ve done a week. Good stuff. Stick with it. And forget your wallet, actually. People will buy you booze but it’s forbidden to ask folk to buy you cigarettes.

10. wyndham - December 1, 2006

Chief among my many failings of personality is a terrible habit of nicking other peoples cigarettes with a cheery smile when I’ve run out. It’s not very appealing, to be honest. It’s going to be a long night at a pub and then a club: I may even have to go down the chemist and buy myself a patch. If I can get past the newsagent’s.

11. BiB - December 1, 2006

Pub and then club! Cor blimey. The last time I made the mistake of going to a nightclub in London was when I took the Russian to Heaven, thinking it was still a vaguely fun place and not knowing it was now frequented exclusively by 15-year-old girls from Gidea Park. And then some security cow accused the Russian of rolling a joint, or doing something untoward involving narcotics, which he wasn’t. And it was just all too ghastly. But I’m sure you’ll have selected a much better venue.

Poncing one’s friends’ fags is utterly allowed, but you mustn’t ask a stranger, as that’s a crime on a par with paedophilia.

12. wyndham - December 1, 2006

The second part of the evening is not exactly my cup of tea, it must be said, but at least it’s a sad, middle-aged indie kids type of club, where I can root myself near the bar, bore everyone silly with my life story and hang on on the the handrail if anyone is misguided enough to attempt to pull me onto the dance floor.

I must confess I have, once or twice, asked for a fag off a stranger but, these days, I tend to be devious enough to befriend them before dropping my bombshell!

13. Daggi - December 1, 2006

(Marginally) better Gidea Park than Rise Park, similarly better Harold Wood than Harold Hill.

14. pleite - December 2, 2006

Daggi, you’ve got local knowledge expertise on your side, have you not? Are Harold Wood and Harold HIll places or people? Perhaps both. I can imagine a nice, human-interest story in the local rag, The Harold Herald. “Harold Wood (94) has to laugh every time he [arthritically] picks up a letter from his doormat. His address reads, ‘Mr. Harold Wood, 25 Harold Wood Rd., Harold Wood, Essex etc.’. Or is that Essex over there, or the London Borough of Somewhere? All of those East London ‘burbs are a mystery to me, I must say. Is it best I don’t bother buying myself an All Zones Travelcard next time I’m in the Big Smoke to go and explore?

Wynders, on the street you’ve asked, or in the cosy surroundings of a party or discotheque? Of course I’ve occasionally been tempted to do so here on the street, as it’s allowable, but I’ve just never plucked up the courage. Anyway, I hope you got through the night smoke- and dance-free. I’m sort of giving up with you, out of solidarity.

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