Thursday, April 26, 2012

The beast strikes again

It’s my fault. I said I wouldn’t drink any Bavarian beer but it was a choice of Becks or Pilsner Urquell in small bottles or Augustiner in large. I went for the large. Small bottles are small, Becks is piss, and Augustiner – like almost all Bavarian beers – is good.
It’s the last time I go to that pub unless I want both teams to lose. Every time I’ve watched Madrid play there they’ve lost. And I only went there for the important games, Barcelona, the Champions League...
When I arrived the place was full of Bayern fans. I expected a few Spaniards and a fiesta. But they’d been münchked up. I was on my own.
I didn’t celebrate the first goal, but couldn’t help it for the second. Jumping up shouting, fists in the air, met by stony silence. I went mad when Casillas saved the Lahm effort, but it was all false hope in the end. The black beast struck again. La Décima debe esperar. Gaah.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

La bestia negra!

Circumstances have thwarted me again. I don’t know what they have against me. But I promise I’ll get those nipster pics to the last post by the end of the week. Can’t tell what week that’ll be, but definitely by the end of the week.
Right now I’m en route to München! Again. It’d make more sense for me to live there at this rate. Der Irischer Münchkin, I don’t think so.
It’s the BIG one! Bayern vs. Real, Champions League semifinal!* Only one bigger. (May yet be the final, calm down, calm down!)
La Bestia Negra. No one but Barcelona gets under Real’s skin more. Madre mia, they’ve always been epic battles.
I remember when they met in Madrid in 2004. We were outside the stadium, tickets were going for €1,000. We watched in the pub. Zizou struck the goal that put Real through. ZIZOU!!! Me and Gav, we both had Zizou shirts. We celebrated long and hard, right through the night. So hard, in fact, that we slept through the Madrid train bombings down the road the next day. Our pension was about 300 metres away. Woke several hours later to find 100 missed calls and as many texts enquiring for our safety, each more frantic than the one before. That was a mad day.
Of course Real won nothing after that, threw away La Liga, screwed up in the Champions. It was around the time they bought Beckham. They didn’t win anything for years. Until 2008, I think. I was in Madrid again, this time with Noddy, and again when we celebrated long and hard. Any excuse. We got shot at by riot police – for added excitement.
I’m neutral now of course, really, I am. If they’re paying me I have to at least pretend to be. Like they need to pay me, I’m a slave, I really am. I’ll have to do my best not to shout, scream and jump up and down with 69,000 Bayern fans and the word’s press around me. It just wouldn’t be appropriate. But I can safely say there’ll be pints afterwards once the work’s done.

*My wonderful preview can be read here:
And I didn’t take that pic at the top, but it was kindly tweeted to me by Real Madrid. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me reproducing it here. It sums up nicely how I feel.

Addendum; sometime later with photos from the game added – Bayern won 2-1, but it’s still all to play for in Madrid on Wednesday. If anything it’s more exciting now! Real made amends by winning El Clásico in Barcelona 2-1 on Saturday night! Woohoo! But la bestia negra remains to be slain. It won’t be easy, but another momentous occasion beckons.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Snotshot of madity 3: 1¼ years! Squid pro quo

The neighbourhood’s safe again; he’s slugging on his bottle. Christ, you’d think he hadn’t been fed all day, so worked up was he until he could get that warm milk to his hungry mouth.
But he’s eating us out of house and home, like an elephant, anything and everything. Elephants probably don’t eat everything, but you know what I mean. He was eating squid yesterday. I’m pretty sure elephants don’t eat squid. Maybe they would if they could. The nip was lashing squid into him, squidelicious. Left me with the noodles and shite, ate all the good stuff. More squid, more squid! Squidiculous.
Prawns too are guzzled down with insatiable gusto. Squid pro quo. He’ll eat anything, in fact, that can be eaten. Only one thing is certain – it won’t be enough.
I wonder where it’ll all end. He turned 1¼ today and he’s getting bigger, bolder, brasher at a scary rate. He’s a little man and that’s all there is to it. To think he used to be a nipper!
He isn’t talking yet, not in anyone else’s languages I mean. He’s a real gabbler in his own tongue. Bleh,di,bleh,de,bleh,di,bleh,de,bleh,di,BLEH! You’ll notice he doesn’t pause between words. Then there’s hmm?hmm?hmm? when he wants something. HMMMM?! It’s usually always food.
He can say Nein. Hurrah, his first word. But I’m not surprised. It’s a word he hears a lot here. I supposed it won’t be long till he’s saying Verboten.
At least he says “bye bye” as he waves at people leaving/gone. Usually he does it when they’re gone. He came up with it all by himself. No one here was ever saying “bye bye” but we’ve adopted it per his instructions.
He greets people by waving too, not only people but dogs or other animals. He’s incredibly social. Of course the dogs are German dogs so they don’t wave back, the fuckers, just keep trotting along with their tails in the air. But he doesn’t let their ill manners get him down, he’ll wave to the next dog he sees too, tweaking his greeting to “bow bow” as he sees them.
It can get a bit much. He’ll wave at people across the street. In a park he’ll walk to the middle and wave at everyone around, like a royal condescending to his subjects. He was waving at an aul’ one about 100 metres away with bags of shopping. She waved back! Of course that just encourages him to keep waving. I think he wants to be a windmill.
If you ask where his shoes are he’ll get them, if he can find them. He says baaaa when he sees sheep, his favourite animal, and he brings me (or brought me, he hasn’t done it in a while) my slippers in the morning. I’d send him out to get the paper but he’d been gone for ages waving at everyone. And of course there’d be (two) teeth marks all over the paper.
I know I shouldn’t feed him from the table but when he looks up at you with those big brown eyes... And he’s so happy to snap up whatever it is you’re eating before trotting off, and then coming back for more.
For he’s never happy to sit still. There’s too much to SEE!!! He crawls into spaces he can’t get out of, onto heights he can’t get down of, down holes he can’t come out of. Seriously, we need to watch him like hawks. His latest thing is to crawl onto chairs, grab the edge of the table, stand on the chair and then climb onto the table. Nothing is safe anymore, he grabs everything.
Needless to say he’s covered in wounds and scars. He’s got a deep gash above his nose, his legs are black and blue and he’s got a dent in his head Jenny reckons will never straighten out. Of course he hates the helmet I got him, wouldn’t wear it for love nor money. Can’t say I blame him.
Don’t dare take a spoon from him, even if he has two, or he’ll explode in a fit of histrionics. Dunno where he gets that from... Thankfully it’s shortlived and the grub distracts him from his troubles.
We found a babysitter for him. The poor girl. Theresa like the mother, only a good bit younger and still alive. Still, she’ll need all her saintly powers to handle him when Jenny goes back to work on Monday. At least she can always occupy him with squid. We’ll be paying quid pro squid. He’s great. It’ll be worth it.

More pics will be added tomorrow, circumstances allowing. Right now I gotta get some sleep, while he is. Make sleep while the son sleeps...

Apologies for the delay with the pics. But tomorrow is tomorrow, and here they are today!

Friday, April 06, 2012


A nationwide Tanzverbot is in full swing again today, ironic though it may sound. No dancing allowed anywhere in Germany. Kein Tanzen! Nein! Verboten!
There are several days on which a Tanzverbot takes hold in this country, and I wrote about it briefly before, but today’s is by far the most rigorous, with dancing outlawed in most states for the whole day. The whole day!
Berlin being a city with next to no morals only outlaws dancing between 4 and 9pm, this being the time, presumably, when Jaysus was being nailed to a cross. His own personal Tanzverbot.
Christ, I’m sure if he was half the fella people say he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t want people to stop dancing just because he couldn’t. And if he does, well...
So the Making-Things-Verboten Office strikes again (though that’s verboten too.) What if you don’t believe in Jaysus, or care? Why should someone else’s religious beliefs affect my dancing opportunities? Goddammit, the one thing that makes me feel like dancing is a Tanzverbot.