Back In Blighty

We're home.

The charming Deadfast, as is his way, fell in love with a Shanghai lady he met in a bar and boy, was she... special.

The good thing is that the Shanghai police department are lovely people and, with a little persuasion (I now owe Lt. Fi-Laan the keys to the ranch in Montana), we escaped a term in jail and were allowed home (for "allowed home" read "escorted to the airport and onto a plane by four burly men with tattoos neck-to-toe").

The Shanghai lady in question turned out to be not so much of a lady as more of a young man dressed up as a lady.
Which Deadfast discovered after a heavy night of boozing, and wasnt' too pleased.
Cue lots of shouting, throwing of things, and Deadfast running into my hotel room at 2am two nights back.

"Walter!"
"Hmm?" I was in bed, and have a habit of crying in my sleep.
"Stop snivelling and help me!"
"Wha?"
"SHE HAD A COCK IN HER HAND AND IT WASN'T MINE!"
"What?"
"She... he... oh, I've come over all queer and need a sit down!"
"Erm..."
There came a knocking at my door... for a moment, I expected a raven (don't ask; I had just woken up and wasn't quite with it yet!).
"Mister, mister... let me in!"

Deadfast went white as a sheet which, considering how red his cheeks were due to the constant boozing, was a site to behold.
"It's her... him... them!"
"How many people have you annoyed?" I wondered, as I put my dressing gown on and went to the door. "I'm letting them all in."
"No, they'll get me!"
"You'll be fine, now..." I swung open the door. "How can I help?"

In came a very attractive young man, dressed as a lady, and my brain clicked.

"I thought she was a he... no, wait... he was a she..." Deadfast wailed. "I'm confused!"
"Mister, you left your wallet in your hotel room and I thought you'd better keep it with you... the maids can sometimes get a little light-fingered in Shanghai."
"Erm..." Deadfast was hiding in my wardrobe. "Go away!"
"I'll take that," I said, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry about him."
"That's cool, friend," the young man said. "You may want to watch out for the police who are on there way, though..."
"Police?" I asked.
"Yes... if you hadn't noticed, your old friend there is naked."
"I hadn't." I was so used to seeing Deadfast in various states of conciousness and dress, it never crossed my mind that he had burst into my room naked. "Is that a problem?"
"For me? No. For the receptionist, the two maids, the old lady next door to you and the Colonel in room 203, yes."
"Ah."
"He may have startled them a little..."
"I see."
"I think you should get him dressed!"
"Ok, thank you... you speak very good English, by the way."
"I watch a lot of TV..."
"That'd be it."

With that, the young man gave me the wallet and left. He was nice, I thought, as I turned to the wardrobe and realised it hadn't shut properly. It was closed, but there was a small gap and... well, something was peeking out.

"I think," I said, hearing footsteps running towards my room. "We should get you dressed..."



As for the Golden Foot of King Dingle Dangle Dong... we never did find it.
Deadfast's contact was the one who took him to the bar where he met the Shanghai lady, so... that's that.

Seedy Dvds?

I forgot to mention the rather odd conversation I had in the market.

A man approached me and said, in a thick accent, "Seedy Dvd?"
I looked around, and thought briefly "Why not?"
But I came to my senses and said a firm "NO!"

"Seedy Dvd?" he persisted.
"No."
"Seedy?"
"I'm not!"
"Dvd?"
"I'd like a dvd, perhaps, but not a seedy one."
"Seedy dvd?"
"No!"
"Seedy?"
"NO!"
"Seedy Dvd?"

By this point, we'd walked about two hundred yards or so, and people were beginning to stare.

"Seedy Dvd?"
"Have you got any wholesome family entertainment?"

He nodded, and waved his hands at me.
He had a dvd in one hand, and a cd in the other.

*sigh*

Shanghai

I'm in Shanghai.

Previously, when I said that the "adventure's a-foot" I meant that the adventure IS a foot... Deadfast is in search of the lost Golden Foot of King Dingle Dangle Dong.

For some reason, the golden artificial limb of this ancient Ducth king is worth a lot of money and Deadfast knows a man who knows a man who knows a woman who heard a man who met a woman who had heard a conversation on the back of the bus about a man who had met a man who had a friend who had killed his uncle and had stolen and then sold a foot made of gold.

Or something.

Anyway, Deadfast is off talking to one of his "contacts", so I've had some time to wander around the city and see the sites.
Which is nice.

It's an excellent place, but very strange.

For a start, they don't tell you in all of the brochures that the first thing people do when they get out of the airport is start spitting.
Seriously; they have spittoons next to all of the bins so that the old people and their phlegm doesn't splatter the pavement.
So, the first sounds I heard in Shanghai were "huuuuck---pitooo".

After finding the hotel and getting a little sleep, I venutred off to explore.
As I wandered along on my way, I walked past a school.
There were about 400 kids in the playground, all listening to a tannoy, and dancing in time.
400 kids doing exactly the same thing... I thought I'd wandered into "Children Of The Corn" for a moment!
The dancing stopped, and they marched into the school.
I'm telling you now; these people will take over the world, all led by some evil headmaster with a masterplan and a loud-hailer.

Past the school, I came to what at first I thought was a Kung-Fu movie shoot... there seemed to be alot of people all performing bullet-time Kung-Fu moves.
As I got closer, I realised that I was the only person in the entire park who was under 70 years of age... and it wasn't a movie; they were doing Tai Chi.
About 150 old people, all performing various slow-mo moves.
There was also an old man sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette, which is a martial art discipline I'd never heard of before.

I moved slowly, as not be noticed, and made my way past the Tai Chi old people.
I then came across, in the same park, a even larger group of old people taking part in some ballroom dancing.
I'm sure that isn't the most efficient martial art, but what does a Westener know?

I left the park as soon as I could, and followed some signs to see "THE JADE BUDDHA", which is situated near the People's Park, apparently.

I was very disapointed.
The sign was wrong.
It wasn't a jade buddha. It was a jaded buddha.
A fat man, drinking Guinnesss, was sitting on the steps of the temple, moaning about how he wanted a Ferrari.

Shanghai is an odd place.
I'm back in the hotel bar, wondering when Deadfast'll turn up.

A-ha!

The adventure is a-foot.

Attack of the pirates!

I've just got in from the police station.

Keira Knightley has gone mental, and is stalking me!
But, worse than that, now she's got Orlando Bloomn involved!


Friday morning, I was rudely awoken by a kerfuffle happening downstairs.
Deadfast naturally was sleeping through it all, so I headed downstairs in my dressing gown (and little else, I might add, it was 5am!), and cautiously opened the door.

"A-har!" a voice shouted at me, as a cutlass was pointed at my throat. "I'll teach you the error of your ways!"
"Um, hello," I said, as casually as someone threatened with death-by-pirate could do. "Can I help at all?"
"You violated my good friend this past day, and I'm here to avenge her!"
"Oh, right."

With that, we both stood there, and nothing was said for a moment.
He looked at me, I looked at him, he looked at his shoes, and then I realised...

"You're Orlando Bloom, aren't you?"
"No! I'm... well, yes, I am Orlando Bloom but I'm in character at the moment as pirate guy, so..."
"Wait a second," I said, pushing his sword away from my neck and opening the door further. "Has this got something to do with that maniac driver the other day?"
"This has everythign to do with that, sir, and you'll mind your manners if you wish to see another dawn!"
"I don't know anyone called Dawn," I told him, and yawned (which I thought quite poetic). "And the sun has just came up."
"Erm..."
"Do you have my wallet?"
"Do I... what... huh?" The young man looked confused, and smoothed out his stick-on moustache. "Eh?"
"Look, you obviously got my address from that woman, who has my wallet, so can I have it back please?"
"Um..."
"Go on."
"Oh, ok..."

With that, he reached into his pantaloon pocket and handed me my wallet back.

"It's empty."
"Yes, well, I had to get a taxi here, and..."
"Oh, I don't really care."
"Oh." He stood there in the doorway, admiring my dressing gown for a moment. "Um... hey?"
"Yes?"
"Was I convincing?"
"As what?"
"A pirate-type?"
"Well, you're no Johnny Depp..."

He didn't listen to the rest of my comments, because he flung his cutlass to the floor and flounced off in a huff.
I closed the door, and shook my weary head.
I needed a cup of tea and some crumpets.


I had my breakfast, and then later on in the afternoonI reported the odd actress to the police.
Hopefully, that'll be the end of it.
The desk sargeant told me that there'd been alot of this lately.
I didn't hang around to ask "Alot of what?".

I'd left the grill on at home...

A not-so-smart SM@RT car incident.

I had an afternoon off yesterday, so I headed to Primrose Hill (in London) and paid a visit to a little restaurant I know.

I tucked into a nice pasta salad, washed down with a delightful Spanish wine that complimented the chicken nicely (or was it Mexican? I forget...), and took a stroll around the area since the evening was warm and pleasant.

I was minding my own business, ambling across a zebra crossing, when a maniac in a tiny tiny open-top SMART car came speeding towards me.
I had no time to react and, before I knew it, I had rolled over the windshiled and had fallen into the passenger seat!

"Oh, god!" The driver squealed. "Get out of my fucking car!"
"Erm.... ouch," I muttered, as she pulled the car over. "Thanks for driving like a blind person."
"Oh, piss off you little man... do you know who I am!"
"No... I can't see at the moment due to the blood that is pouring into my eyes."
"Oh... would you like a tissue?"
"I wouldn't say no to a hospital appointment, if truth be told."
"Well, I'm in a rush, so how about I give you a tissue and leave you here by the kerb?"
"Erm..."
"Great, out you get!"

With that she reached over me, opened my door, and pushed me out onto the street. She then slammed the door and pulled into traffic (narrowly avoiding a nun on a bicycle) and drove off at high speed.

"Tissue?" I called after her, but she was long gone.

I heard footsteps and, from where I was sitting on the kerb, looked up and saw the Spanish waitress who had served me my wine earlier come rushing up to me. She had a tissue.
"Ohmigodoyouknowwhothatwas!?"
"I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish."
"I said, do you know who that was?"
"Oh," I mumbled, reaching for the tissue that she hadn't bothered to offer me. "Who? And please don't say Jude Law."
"Jude Law?"
"Yes."
"It wasn't him."
"Oh, good. I'd hate to have a celebrity stalker."
"What are you talking about?"
"Who was driving that car?"
"Keira Knightley!"
"Oh, her."
"Yes! You should have got her autograph!"

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked off back to the restaurant.



I've spent most of the day in bed, resting.
My back is killing me and, worryingly, I think Keira Knightley stole my wallet.

Murder most fowl

It was a nice sunday day yesterday, so we took a drive to Kingston-Upon-Thames.
It's a nice area, and it has some lovely bars and things down by the river (I prefer Richmond myself).

Anyway, I parked the car and we took a wander by the river.

Deadfast, in a jovial mood, suggested we hire a speedboat and take a ride up the river.
You can hire speedboats and even canoes all along the Thames, if you know where to look.
I thought about and, after I had made him agree to being a passneger only, we secured the loan of a nifty-looking boat and, with life jackets worn, off we went.

As we pootled along on the river at a nice pace, I relaxed my guard for a moment and actually let Deadfast control the boat.
Big mistake.

The first thing he did was open up the throttle and tear across the water like a bat out of hell.
I was standing as I tried to make him move back to the passenger seat when he suddenly yelled out "DUCK!"
Thinking we had come up to one of the low bridges, and there are a few on this area of the Thames, I dropped onto the passenger seat and ducked my head.
Only to hear a "Quack... THUD" sound that didn't sound like something I wanted to hear.

"I did tell you..." Deadfast began, but I was too busy looking over the edge of the speedboat only to see a duck floating on its side, with a chunk of its head missing. "That doesn't look good..."
"No," I muttered. "Sit here, and let me take over."

I turned the boat around, fished the poor thing out of the water, and quickly bagged it in a carrier bag that was already in the boat (so much for the previous user being tidy after themselves!). I then headed back to the jetty, and we scarpered back to the car (not before I put the duck in a near-by rubbish bin).

Naturally, Deadfast wanted duck for dinner, but I told him to sod off.

Please not: for most cases in the above account, you may be able to insert the word "swan" for the word "duck", but that would result in us having broke a law, and possible treason, so... let's not do that.
I'm saying nothing.

A celebrity, a monkey, and a bucket of soapy frogs.

We headed into shiny ol' London town.

It was early, so Deadfast had some time to go shopping.
Worryingly, the man loves to shop.
We spent a good two hours in Harrords, where he bought several lampshades and a small belgian waffle.
We went along Oxford Street, but the "common people" scared him so he soon had me back in the car and driving to Regent's Park.
It was in the park, whilst strolling around as Deadfast told me the story of how he almost became the Ethopian Queen, that we saw something we didn't expect.

Jude Law was being attacked by a small monkey!

I rushed over, whilst Deadfast fell about laughing.

Poor Jude.
He was trying to act "cool", but the monkey was a vicious little bugger. It was sitting atop his shoulders, biting his left ear.
"Argh!" he yelled, spinning around like a child's toy. "You got your picture, now get off of me!"

Hang on, I thought to myself. What was this about "got your picture"?
Then it clicked! Jude Law thought that he was being attacked by a member of the tabloid paparazi!

I ran over, and tried to bat it away with a rolled-up copy of The Times.
Unfortunatley, I'd been reading a "small size" copy rather than the "broadsheet" edition, and the monkey barley felt the blows I rained upon it.
"Blast you, tabloid scum!" Jude yelled, falling to the floor. "What more do you want from me!?"

Deadfast, who had by now hired a deckchair from a near-by vendor and was happily eating an ice cream as he watched this drama unfold, laughed heartily as Jude managed to smack me across the throat, renedring me unable to breathe.
I collapsed to the floor, sturggling for breath, and slowly began to turn blue.
It was at this point when a particularly violent backwards headbutt from Jude Law sent the monkey tumbling from his back... and it crashed onto my heaving chest!
I gulped down a desperate mouthful of air, and the monkey ran off into the bushes.

"Hey, guy, are you ok?" Jude bent down, offering me a hand up. "Sorry about that... the press are after me for... well, you know."
"Yes," Deadfast shouted out from his chair. "We know what you've been up to, you bad boy!"

Jude ignored him, and helped me to my feet.
"Thank you, Mr Law."
"Oh, call me Jude, it's fine... um, I'm going to get going, if that's ok?"
"Yeah," I coughed. "I'm ok. I think maybe we should notify the zoo that one of their monkeys is missing, though."
"Don't worry, I'll get my agent straight onto every tabloid in London... how dare he attack me like that just because I didn't want my picture taken!"
"No, that isn't what I meant..."
However, before I could explain to Jude that he'd been attacked by a real monkey from the near-by zoo, he'd promptly marched off. I could see he was already speaking on his mobile phone.

"Well, Walt," I heard Deadfast say from his chair. "That was a thrilling piece of entertainment!"
"I'm glad at least someone enjoyed it..." I muttered, aching for a glass of water or some lemon tea for my throat. "Shall we get going?"
"What a capital idea!" he yelled, leaping to his feet and sending his ice cream tumbling to the floor. "I've always wanted a monkey!"
With that, he charged into the very same bush that the monkey had escaped into.
"I didn't mean that!" I tried to yell, but to late... he was off, chasing the monkey that had been on Jude's back. "Oh, wonderful..."

As I jogged into the undergrowth, I tripped over Deadfast's prone body.
"Down here, boy!" he whispered. "Keep your mouth shut, and your eyes open!"

I hit the ground, and lay flat on my belly, and my eyes followed the finger that Deadfast was
pointing.
Up ahead, in a clearing between the bushes, I couldn't believe my eyes.

"I can't believe my eyes!" I whispered.
"I can't believe the size of his rectum!" Deadfast replied, and I had to agree.

In the clearing ahead was a site I'll never forget.
A man, wearing nothing but a gimp mask, was on all fours.
Behind him, a woman in a buisness suit was reaching into a bucket that was on the ground next to them both. She pulled out something, and promptly pushed the object into the man's bottom!

"BLOODY HELL!" I gasped out loud, and they both looked my way! "Oops."

The woman in the business suit leapt to her feet and ducked into the bushes on the far side of the clearing.
The gimp, for that was all I can think of calling him, got to his feet as quickly as he could and slowly waddled off into the bushes after her.

"Well, we may as well see what was in that bucket," Deadfast mumbled, as he too got to his feet.
"Sorry I scared them off."
"It's ok, lad, I'll see Gerald at the golf club next week. I doubt his secretary will be showing her face for a while, though!"
"You knew them!?!"
"Oh, Walter," he said with a wink. "I know everyone."
With that, he walked into the clearing and peered into the bucket.

"Hmm, I wasn't expecting that!" he exclaimed, turning away. "Cancel the meal at Pierre's tonight... I've gone off French food."
"Oh, ok... why's that?" I said, looking into the bucket. "Oh..."

So, after Deadfast had let me wash the frogs clean, I let them go in a nearby pond, and we headed home.



I never did find that monkey...

Here we go again...

After checking the finances (Deadfast has alot of income; there's the family seat, then he's got two cafe's in Paris, a villa in Spain that he rents out, a ranch in Nevada that I've let out to... well, it's a nice place to relax... and these are just the tax accountable places!), I went to see how he was.

He was clean, vaguley sober, and ready to head into town.
So, into the car we climbed, and off we went...