Missing the bus

Like The Cure meets Patricia Highsmith- with added little deaths!”

I am living. I am deceased. I am a stranger in your bed. But more of that later.

You remember what happened in yesterday’s barn-storming, back-slapping and barrel-scraping episode of Fun With The Foreigners? Yes, that’s right, I wasn’t quite sure if I was a bon viveur, an existentialist, or a cuckoo! Well remembered. Today we’re going to be much more grounded, as our spotty hero heads for the border, denounces sloppy programming, and invariably misses the bus. Continue reading

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Hang on- aren’t I a foreigner?

“Like Proust meets Cervantes- with added sex!”

For a long time, I had a habit of getting an early night, with someone whose name I could tell you – but shan’t until later.

You remember what happened in yesterday’s scintillating episode of Fun With The Foreigners? Yes, that’s right, I didn’t go to a barmitzvah, I had mustard on toast, and then I discovered you weren’t so pleased to see me after all, and were actually carrying a secret weapon in your pocket. Continue reading

The barmitzvah

Like Proust meets Cervantes- with added sex!”

For many years, I went to bed early, with someone whose name I do not wish to recall. But more of that later.

I thought of my best friend’s coming-of-age party as a barmitzvah, which is a bit weird, as not only was he a Hindu, but I wasn’t aware of ever having met anyone Jewish, and had certainly never been to a barmitzvah. I think I was just aware that when a one-liner fell flat, you were supposed to say “I’m available for weddings and barmitzvahs!” Continue reading