Friday, March 21, 2003
Friday, and another working week splutters to a close. Stretched out before me now lies the Weekend. Obliging - even daring - me to go out and taste all the treats she has to offer in this, the most cosmopolitan and cutting-edge of all cities, where chucking-out time's at eleven, and you'd better hurry, mate, or you'll miss that last tube home and, yer know, there ain't another one for five hours. C'mon, darlin',she breathes seductively to me, you know you really, really wanna piece of me, doncha?
Well, as a matter of fact, no, I don't, you deluded old tart. For a start, I'm saving myself for next Wochenende in Berlin, where the bars don't even open till eleven. Besides, there are times when no amount of third-rate cabaret, second-rate music, or even top-rate totty, can beat an Hawaiian Tropicana with extra pepperoni, a bottle of Merlot, and a stack of campy videos.
And this, my old, smart-ass dear of a capital city, is just One Of Those Nights.