Introduction

Depending on which way it's pronounced Kwai can mean either water buffalo or knob. What I really mean to say here is water buffalo or penis but one of my secret admirers is a bit of a prude when it comes to seeing words like that in print, so for her sake I'm cleaning up my act and sticking to knob. Goodness gracious, does one really need to use such cheap tactics to make people sit and take notice? Of course not. I was only trying to put across that certain words interpretations can be determined by their deliverance and the word in question was Kwai. Like everybody I know I've always said "Kwy", so that probably accounts for why there are so many highly sexed females in that part of the world.

I can just picture it now. Some poor old bugger who's fought in two world wars and he's trying to relive his past by visiting the bridge where the famous battle was. "Can you tell me where Kwy is"????? It stands to reason that if the girls get questions like that too often, then pointing to fella's danglers will eventually become second nature. Before we go any further, if you're thinking that I'll never get the Nobel Prize for Literary Achievement for this I agree with you. If I wanted to be a serious writer I wouldn't be wasting my time on books though, I'd be penning epitaphs instead as there are a lot more people dying than there are learning to read.

I'm one of those guys who never frets and never regrets, never gets upset, and never gets involved in anything more difficult that two plus two. Consequently I've had a lot of time for the good things in life and in the odd serious moments I've thought "w hat a great loss to the world my death would be". I've also given the occasional thought to my tombstone which would probably read along the lines of "Died at the age of....But never stopped living" or "Sadly left this world. Too young to worry too old to care". Yes, death's a very serious subject but it's still popular with the stiffs which is probably why I treat it so lightly.

It's not often that I talk about death but I'd been watching the news and a flash came up that four people had been killed in the miners riots in Bucharest. That's typical though isn't it? Yours sincerely books his first holiday for two years and where is he going? To a war torn country full of communists. You'll soon see though that this guy doesn't take a three hour plane ride to his vacation destination, check into a medium priced hotel, read books in the day, drink Pimms in the evening and spend the rest of his time talking to conservatives on the promenade. No siree. Get drunk, find a woman, mix with the Mafia, get thrown into prison and never know if I'd get out of it all alive. Now that's what I call a holiday. O.k. there's a little bit of exaggeration in there but I do tend to live life on the high wire and there have been more than a few occasions when I've been somewhat concerned about my safety. What was it that McDonald's the burger kings had as their sales motto? "Life is very short and there's no time for fussing and fighting". On reflection though it could've been Paul McCartney. They're next to one another in the Riddley's book of Famous Names so I'm always getting them mixed up. On one occasion a few Christmas' ago when I went into a fast food place in London and asked for Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band the sales girl gave me a complimentary coffee, led me to the corner, and introduced me to a group of subscribers to Dateline. On that occasion though my mistake turned out to be my good fortune because I played along with the act and ended up in bed with a divorcee who likened me to her first real lover.

I'm sorry. Didn't I mention to you that I'm crazy? Well I am. Loveable crazy I like to think but crazy all the same , which brings me back to what I was saying originally. That old saying "life is very short etc. etc.". Nothing could be further from the truth. There's plenty of time. If you don't like someone kick the shit out of them. No, but seriously Americans in particular have more than a passing tendency to go to the shrink when things aren't going too right , or if they need a shoulder to lean on. In Britain though the only people who go to a psychiatrist (or an analyst as the Americans prefer to call them) are considered nutcases. I have my own theories on insanity which are something along the lines of: if you're totally sane there's no need for a shrink but if you go to one you need one on the strength of you going to one in the first place. On the other hand, if you're a few colours short of the pastel box there's no need to seek professional assistance because if you're a loony you wouldn't know it and you'd have to be a real straitjacket case to pay for a head doctor if you thought you were o.k. That brings me to the conclusion that everybody in the world is mad except me.

I never have been, am not now, and never will be mad, ha ha hee hee fo fum.....I'm crazy instead and my philosophy on keeping a level head is to relieve all your frustrations when the needs require. Every day for as long as I can remember I've spent at least five minutes doing all those things that make a person feel better. I have five minutes on my own in total silence with no outside influences. I have five minutes of uncontrollable laughter. I have five minutes with a confidant when I pour out my most intimate secrets which I usually discolour so much that they're completely unrecognizable and I have five minutes of kicking the door and swearing at the television. Oh and there's the fussing and fighting. If that's what it takes to make you feel better , then do it as long as it doesn't hurt anybody's feelings.

There is an exception to every rule however and in my case the exception is Mormons. I've got no time for people who waste time for the sake of it, especially if it's mine. I remember a few years ago when some Mormons knocked on my door and even though they didn't introduce themselves I cottoned on to what their game was straight away. I invited them in, put a blue movie on and asked them if they'd prefer a vodka or whiskey. When they answered that they'd like a tea I had to explain that it was never drank in the house because with living on my own the milk kept going off. After about two minutes flat they made a hasty retreat saying in unison "hallelujah" and other insignificant mumblings, so the moral of the story is to always keep a few spirits in the house to ward off your neighbourhood Mormon.

You may wonder why I'm telling you all this. Well I'm not your old pro when it comes to writing this stuff. With being a musician of sorts I'm more used to sitting down with a guitar and five minutes later saying "there's another song written" but with books it's different. There's no chorus and no melody line, and if I get fed up with writing something I can't put it down and write something else like I do with a song because the chances are that I would've already put too much work into it. That's the case here. I've just spent seven weeks of my life putting together the events of my 1991 holiday and some smart arse has told my that it has to have an introduction.

Why?????

No. Sod it. I'm not going to bother with one. Everybody does that and how am I expected to make a name for myself as an individual if I do the same as everybody else.

O.k. Well now we're all agreed on that you can use the rest of this page to make a note of what's on the TV. tonight in case you get fed up with reading the following pages.