The Connaught Mayfair

It was raining. I looked for a shelter inside my trike. Suddenly I was approached by two, smartly dressed gents in their fifties. "Take us to Connaught Mayfair. We want to pass by Bentley salon." - They politely ordered. I started to pull down the rainshield. They said they didn't want it. "You'll get wet." I warned. "We'll get wet like you guys!" I smiled internally, thinking that to get wet together is a great example of solidarity... There was something unusual about them. They spoke English with a very thick Atlantic twang, however between themselves they used French. It was a very bizzare French though. Were they some exceptionally snobby morons or, maybe, they came from Quebec? We will never find out... They asked me to stop by the corner of Bruton St. and Berkley Sq. to take a look at those fat Bentleys inside the salon. They cheered and shouted like little boys. Both of them produced their mobile phones and started to take some pictures... After a while they got enough of that and sat back on my trike. "Let's go to the hotel." Then, very unfortunately indeed, I got cofused. I couldn't remind myself where that bloody hotel exactly was. I was going in circles for a while. They didn't mind much, clearly enjoying our little journey. Finally I stopped by Chesterfield hotel on Charles St. and asked at the reception. Those very kind people who work there gave me directions. My destination was near by. I got there quickly. Believe me - The Connaught Mayfair is a VERY high profile hotel. I felt quite guilty so I said quickly: "Gentlemen, my apologies. If I were a Japanese I would commit a ritual suicide." They laughed. One of them asked: "How much do we owe you?" "20 quid." "20 what?" He didn't get it. "20 pounds." "Nooooo! This is too much!" I was soaked, sweaty and felt pretty humiliated. I just wanted to get over it quickly. "Okay then! Pay me whatever you like..." They exchanged a few phrases in their grotesque French. Then counted some change, one of them passed it to me and they were gone. Some say rich people live too far from reality to be human but "it occurred to me that, like most of the very rich people I had known, he was trying to save money" to buy a new Bentley, I suppose.

Three crazy Froggies.

I started late and that time I coudn't get anything at all. Finally on Coventry St., right in a corner by Prince of Wales Theatre, where they show Mamma Mia, I spotted three lads in their mid twenties. They were pissed, frisky and French. Fortunately one of them spoke quite good English. Soon I had to take one of them mischievous creatures off my trike and put him on the floor as he was about to drive away by himself. There was a lot of laugh but we couldn't agree a price. They wanted a very cheap lift. I refused, they went towards Piccadilly Circus. Passing through China Town I started to reproach myself. "What kind of a salesman are you?!?" I asked myself and decided to give it another try. I went around quickly and entered Coventry St. again. I found them sitting on a fellow rider's trike. He looked very unhappy and clearly didn't know what to do. Apparently he didn't want to take them anywhere and they didn't want to get off... They saw me and came running. This time we found a compromise and set sail. Unfortunately two of them were all about fingering my arse. I had to stop twice to put an end to it. Next they focused on pulling my poor, old and worn out canopy up and down... They kept shouting some bullshit in French and did their best to rock my rickshaw like if it was a boat. Neither my rickshaw was a boat though, nor I was Bob Marley. Soon one of them jumped off and started to push the trike from behind. He was so energetic that I could hardly stop in red light by Shaftesbury Ave. Immediately he pulled out his willy and started to pee on the street right behind my rickshaw. Three plain clothes policemen got him then. I wonder how did they manage to tell him off, for he wasn't a linguist. His two mates, somewhat uneasy, passed me a couple of quid. We have never seen each other again since then.

Sexual equality

Whether Emily Davison wanted to attach a Women's Social and Political Union's flag to King's horse Anmar, or not, she was very much successful indeed with the bombing of Chancellor of the Exchequer David Lloyd George's house. That woman had balls, no doubt! How exactly did that contribute to a change in social views is not very clear to me. Nevertheless I'm really happy to see women serving in armed forces, police or being fire fighters. I feast my eyes on female politicians and businesswomen. I totally support Topfreedom. Notwithstanding, once I decided to take a leak at that urinal on Cambridge Circus. Unfortunately I wasn't able to empty my bladder in peace. A passing by French girl looked at me and asked: "Don't you think that it's a bit unfair with the ladies?" What did she really mean? Is having a willey something a bit sex-discriminative? I bet that bit could be a good fun indeed!
As my dear friend Uco uses to say: ¿DONDE VAMOS A ACABAR?