Specs in under an hour. My fucking arse.

I must have gone into at least five opticians that advertised new glasses in under an hour, but not one of them could deliver. Apparently I have a strange prescription, which means it will take take them TEN DAYS to make the lenses. It’s not as if I have Marty Feldman eyes or an extra one growing out of the middle of my forehead.

I suspect the “glasses in under one hour” promise only applies to the non-prescription sunglasses section, and even then – given the average level of service in Hungary – they would probably struggle to meet this deadline.

“I’d like to buy that pair of sunglasses, please.”

“Certainly. Please wait around for 30 mins while I smoke a fag, talk to my boyfriend on the phone, idly pick my nose, randomly move some empty boxes around for while and then inspect my plucked eyebrows in the mirror. Maybe then I’ll serve you, but only if I can be bothered. Even then I’ll probably sigh as if you’ve just asked me to make the glasses myself, thus endangering my precariously long – not to mention vicious – nails.”

“That would be fine, thank you. I’ll just stand in the corner and bang my head to a bloody pulp on the wall.”

The upshot of this is that I am having to walk around the city, blindly groping in front of me. Actually, that last bit isn’t really necessary. I’m just trying to cop a feel.

Kids! Do you want to feel like you’ve been on a five-day crack and heavy-duty liquor binge but find yourself lacking the necessary funds? Simply break your glasses just before you’re due to go out and then wear someone else’s contact lenses. I did it last night, and it worked a treat.

So, apologies to anyone I didn’t say hello to in the Bardroom. I was having enough trouble finding my seat, never mind spotting familiar faces.

It actually worked out OK, though, as it added a much-needed new dimension to seeing Benjamin Zeppaniah. Although he was still funny, his material – including all of the build up anecdotes to his poems – was almost identical to the last time I saw him two years ago in Banja Luka. The fact that I saw him with two heads – one out of focus and the other in – made all the difference. I think the blurry head was marginally more amusing.

Bizarrely, I met someone who quite clearly had been taking crack: a very nice Scottish man, who seemed incapable of putting two coherent thoughts together. Within two minutes of meeting we were talking about the possiblity of trading in egg futures and putting wheels on the nut-dispensing machine so that we could stand on it, roll across the room at high speed, and dispense salted and unsalted nuts to everyone. Top marks for randomness, although I think he does perhaps have to cut down on the herbal cigarettes.

Kalman also deserves respect for possibly the best introduction for a poet that I’ve ever heard. It was a just a shame that Zeppaniah had decided to go on earlier.

Kids! Do you want to feel like you’ve been on a five-day crack and heavy-duty liquor binge but find yourself lacking the necessary funds? Simply break your glasses just before you’re due to go out and then wear someone else’s contact lenses. I did it last night, and it worked a treat.

So, apologies to anyone I didn’t say hello to in the Bardroom. I was having enough trouble finding my seat, never mind spotting familiar faces.

It actually worked out OK, though, as it added a much-needed new dimension to seeing Benjamin Zeppaniah. Although he was still funny, his material – including all of the build up anecdotes to his poems – was almost identical to the last time I saw him two years ago in Banja Luka. The fact that I saw him with two heads – one out of focus and the other in – made all the difference. I think the blurry head was marginally more amusing.

Bizarrely, I met someone who quite clearly had been taking crack: a very nice Scottish man, who seemed incapable of putting two coherent thoughts together. Within two minutes of meeting we were talking about the possiblity of trading in egg futures and putting wheels on the nut-dispensing machine so that we could stand on it, roll across the room at high speed, and dispense salted and unsalted nuts to everyone. Top marks for randomness, although I think he does perhaps have to cut down on the herbal cigarettes.

Kalman also deserves respect for possibly the best introduction for a poet that I’ve ever heard. It was a just a shame that Zeppaniah had decided to go on earlier.

I just had my professional website redesigned, and I’m not entirely happy with the slogan that Tony came up with (sorry, Tony).

He had “One finger on the pulse of Europe” but this raises the question of what I’m doing with the other nine.

So, suggestions welcome.

Brainstorming so far has produced:

Ten fingers and some toes on the pulse of Europe
All of my appendages on the pulse of Europe
To Central Europe…and Beyond!
News, Reviews and stuff for all youse (for Glaswegians only)
From Istanbul to ma hoose, I write stuff
Give me some work or I’ll starve
Crap articles from the areshole of Europe (Graham’s suggestion)
Who gives a fuck about Hungary anyway?
“Hungary? No, I’ve already eaten.” – plus a 100 other things people think they’re the 1st to say (Graham again)
Monitoring the pulse of Europe (sounds too much like I think I’m George Clooney)
Have fingers, will type
It’s coming out of both ends (Graham again)
Quality Journalism from Central Europe (this is a fairly serious suggestion – don’t laugh)
Objective Journalism from Central Europe
I am a cock monkey – spank me!

I think that’s enough.

I just had my professional website redesigned, and I’m not entirely happy with the slogan that Tony came up with (sorry, Tony).

He had “One finger on the pulse of Europe” but this raises the question of what I’m doing with the other nine.

So, suggestions welcome.

Brainstorming so far has produced:

Ten fingers and some toes on the pulse of Europe
All of my appendages on the pulse of Europe
To Central Europe…and Beyond!
News, Reviews and stuff for all youse (for Glaswegians only)
From Istanbul to ma hoose, I write stuff
Give me some work or I’ll starve
Crap articles from the areshole of Europe (Graham’s suggestion)
Who gives a fuck about Hungary anyway?
“Hungary? No, I’ve already eaten.” – plus a 100 other things people think they’re the 1st to say (Graham again)
Monitoring the pulse of Europe (sounds too much like I think I’m George Clooney)
Have fingers, will type
It’s coming out of both ends (Graham again)
Quality Journalism from Central Europe (this is a fairly serious suggestion – don’t laugh)
Objective Journalism from Central Europe
I am a cock monkey – spank me!

I think that’s enough.

These pictures are all entries from various drunken scribblers, all hoping to provide the cover art for my zombie cow novel (which will no doubt become a blockbusting move starring Tom Cruise, Benny Hill, Angelina Jolie and that cow from the Magic Roundabout).

I omitted my own effort, for the simple reason that I draw like a serial-killer after a heavy lobotomy session.

Nats, Victoria and Esther are responsible for the doodles.