I rounded off my year in style by getting thrown out of the Hogarthian place for my appalling behaviour (31st Dec 2006)

I rounded off my year in style by getting thrown out of the Hogarthian place for my appalling behaviour. In five years I don’t think I have ever seen anyone thrown out, unless they were actually cracking bar stools over other people’s heads. How low can a boy sink? I think it was watching the Consul in Under the Volcano the previous night that inspired me to these dizzying depths of depravity. I was already worse for wear when I arrived, had one more, discovered Lucky now has dark hair, Crystal discovered I now have dimples, headed off to see La Antonacci. I had a standing place, but found I kept nodding off, and coming round just as my knees were about to buckle. I left after an hour, not even making it to the interval. As Carmen made her escape from jail, the lights momentarily dimmed, and I made my escape from the opera house, running in the direction of rain-soaked Kingsway where I made my fateful decision to get the 91 BACK to King’s Cross. Things then went from bad to worse. Israeli Helen, —–, Stella, Chloe, Arleni, Sindy, Demi. I seem to remember buying Demi a box of chocolates as she told me it was her last night [it later turned out it wasn't].

A brief visit to Sunset Strip (29th Dec 2006)

A brief visit to Sunset Strip, after the appalling enforced Christmas abstinence, to see the divinity that is Jolanda and the callipygous Helen. It is amazing how much more naked a stripper looks when she takes off her shoes. The first thing Helen always does when she steps on stage is to take off her shoes, & then slowly pads around the stage, Salome-like even without the Salome costume, on the balls of her bare feet. All strippers should dance barefoot, I think. Without wanting to get too personal, she does have the best behind in London, apart OF COURSE from Hannah/Pink at the White Horse who possesses a bottom that you would follow anywhere if you met it in the street. 

When Jolanda steps on stage it is like how Zola describes Nana: “Then scarcely was Diana alone than Venus made her appearance. A shiver of delight ran round the house. Nana was nude. With quiet audacity she appeared in her nakedness, certain of the sovereign power of her flesh. Some gauze enveloped her, but her rounded shoulders, her Amazonian bosom, her wide hips, which swayed to and fro voluptuously, her whole body, in fact, could be divined, nay discerned, in all its foamlike whiteness of tint beneath the slight fabric she wore. It was Venus rising from the waves with no veil save her tresses. And when Nana lifted her arms the golden hairs in her armpits were observable in the glare of the footlights. There was no applause. Nobody laughed any more. The men strained forward with serious faces, sharp features, mouths irritated and parched. A wind seemed to have passed, a soft, soft wind, laden with a secret menace. Suddenly in the bouncing child the woman stood discovered, a woman full of restless suggestion, who brought with her the delirium of sex and opened the gates of the unknown world of desire. Nana was smiling still, but her smile was now bitter, as of a devourer of men. “By God,” said Fauchery quite simply to La Faloise.” 

Jolanda wore a lime green see-through slip of fabric for my first sight of her, then a pink dress for her double act with Helen, finishing with that Stokerish white see-through dress. I realise now not only is she a Nana, but a blonde Zora Suleman, and there is not much better than that. For me, she is the Queen of Sunset Strip. Miss Soho 2006. Jolanda is a girl Toulouse Lautrec would have designed posters for. Why don’t they do that anymore!? 

Dorothy Anstruther she’s a Belgian dancer living in London (26th Dec 2006)

Dorothy Anstruther she’s a Belgian dancer living in London—the girl in the Country Girl video!!!! ********* How fantastic those porn films were in Munich Inter City! The Italian ones. There is such a special feeling when I go to Munich. Knowing Italy is just the other side of the Alps. Those memories from Munich, and Vienna, and Berlin, are the best of my life. There is a soft lubriciousness about Munich. I have to go back. 

CHECK EUROPEAN TRAIN TIMES BEFORE BOOKING TICKETS, or deciding whether to stay in Munich Sunday or get train back to Brussels. So I cannot get it out & have sex in Munich; but did I enjoy it with Pamela or Francesca? with Alla? with Margareta? I can use the kabins. I realise I can only enjoy music when I am drinking & when it is turned up full deafening volume. No I cannot have sex in Munich, but the greatest nights of my life have come there, Patricia in Atlantic City let me come on her breasts in séparée, —– —- fell in love with me, Susi & Irina, Emily in Femina let me come on her breasts in séparée, Viktoriya, Martina massive breasts in Nuremberg Pils bar. It only works if you totally lose yourself in it—music. Drink, sex. 

Perfect in Brussels to go from hotel, really drunk, to California to get turned on & sober, then back to Empire ready to feel something.

Yes I think going to strip pubs is about sex (22nd Dec 2006)

Yes, I think going to strip pubs is about sex. I only enjoy watching a girl strip if I want to f–k her (for those who like dirty talk). There is nothing worse than watching a girl strip who you do not fancy. This is the time to get up & get another drink or go to the lavatory even if you do not really need to go; although, thinking particularly of Sunset, it always looks so rude when a man gets up & leaves his seat as soon as a girl comes on to dance! I try and do it delicately when her back is turned. The dirtiest striptease I ever saw was Hungarian Janet at the *[Hogarthian place]* dancing to Madonna’s Material Girl this year, during her all too brief stay on these shores. I pray for her return in 2007. Nothing else has ever come close to Janet for pure (!) dirty sexiness. It is almost always all in the eyes, I think. You can be watching a dancer and be completely unmoved, but then she looks you in the eye for a couple of seconds, and straightaway you are turned on, as the “smutty provocations” pass between you. But then that is the same anywhere, of course. Tenseness, Eroticism, Repulsive Pathology. 

The plethora of Christmas decorations hanging down from the Queen Anne ceiling made it seem like a tropical whorehouse; oh, I do apologise, HOThouse. Like a mangrove swamp, with the tendrils of fog curling through the door every now & again easily mistaken for steam; if it wasn’t so fucking cold. And it seemed so DARK in there! Obviously the effect of the new lighting. I like dark, so I am all in favour of this. Also, the music seemed louder than I have ever known it. Still not deafening, but louder than usual. In contrast to the Esteemed Maestro I love going to strip pubs at Christmas as they are so packed & the atmosphere is so good, and the Queen Anne was certainly packed. 

And then, there she was, the loveliness that is Ms Adaire. In Santa hat, and little red lacy Santa outfit {Great Tontoolian Marshes! “And those white Martian Princesses have to be seen to be believed!”}. With no disrespect to the other ladies present I enjoyed watching Redd sitting down more than I did watching the others dancing. Why pay to watch? I’d pay to watch her doing nothing. I’d pay to watch her sleep. Still recovering from my Golden Arm excesses of the previous night, and my weakened body already succumbing to a cold, I would not have bothered coming out for anyone but her. I did not stay long & did not indulge in a private dance as the thought of having to sit on my hands when such temptation was right there in front of me was too much to contemplate. I am not that strong.

I like big girls so I don’t know why I like Honey so much (21st Dec 2006)

I like big girls so I don’t know why I like Honey so much. An almost child-like body, implacable face half-hidden behind long wavy honey-blonde hair. She is a fast dancer. The slow, quiet cinema-seated somnolence of the Sunset often seems to be reflected in the dancers; they prowl & pad around the stage in a languid, cat-like way & if they lie on their back a tad too long you suspect they have actually fallen asleep; Honey bounces around the stage like a baby kitten. As soon as a few men are standing at the back the atmosphere immediately seems to improve. The snowball fights it seems are just a distant memory. I am sure the poor chap who always had to come around afterwards looking for all the snowballs under the seats and between people’s feet is glad about that. It was good to see the place so packed. When Honey was on I thought she is the star of Sunset Strip; yet when Jolanda came on in her almost Stokerish see-through white dress, I thought, no, it is Jolanda; then when Melani was on I thought, no, of course it is Melani; but then Fernanda is so lovely; and “French beauty” Lilou is so stunning; oh, and Lana; and let’s not forget the electrifying Elektra who wasn’t even here tonight. 

That, though, was only the start of my night of appalling debauchery. I wake up at 630AM the next morning, and just think “Shit”, still six hours until the pub opens again. What on Earth am I going to do for those six hours? They stretch ahead of me like an eternity. It is four hours until I can even get a McDonald’s Hamburger & Fries for breakfast. 

Pondering obsessively on Simon’s “lost” weekend in Amsterdam, those still unaccounted for three days. I have become so hooked on his Around & Abouts that I now want every SECOND of his life accounted for. I am The Man with the Golden Arm, and for two, no more than TWO, days in a week, I am just shooting up, lost to the world in my strip addiction oblivion.

There seemed to be a party going on in the Sunset Cinema bar (20th Dec 2006)

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Well at least I am not crying like I was at end of October (7th Dec 2006)

Well, at least I am not crying like I was at end of October, for three days in a row! I feel happy now. Yes I spent £1200 in the last six days but I feel ok about it. I met Clarisse & Polish Margareta in Brussels, and Evalina, Olga, Alla and Nadia in Berlin. Berlin feels brought back to life.