Blogs are for updating.

Last entry October 13th...

I. am. slack. 10 days I have been in Berlin and not one fucking entry. Shameful.

Buuut, in my defence, I have been fucking busy... and my apartment is internetless. I had forgotten what an internetless world was like. Conclusion? I am way too dependent on the old world wide web. How on earth did people stay in contact before? How the fuck did we know what was going on in the world? Where to go? What to see? I just don't know anymore...

Anyway, let us not get bogged down in the fact that I can't refresh twitter every seven and a half minutes, because I am in Berlin. Being here makes up for the fact that I am not instantly updated every time that Stephen Fry inhales or David Attenborough has a headache.

Here is a quick run-down of the highs and lows of the big move:

Let's get the LOWS out of the way first:

- The actual process of moving. I wish I could go back in time, speak to my former-self who decided on packing so many books and stab that former me in the heart. That suitcase nearly killed me. I keep having flashbacks to when I was dragging that mother-fucker around whilst looking for my apartment and failing to even read a map properly. And you just know that I am never going to read any of those fucking books...

- A minor near death experience. Cars drive on the other side of the road. I am not bright enough to get out of that UK roads mentality. When walking out of my apartment one morning, a little tired, a lot worse for wear from the previous night, I stepped out and very nearly died at the hands of a motorbike. I genuinely let out a little scream. My whole life flashed before my eyes. It was distressing. Whilst I'm thinking of time travel in order to rectify any moronic decisions, it is only right that I let my much former former-self know that dressing exclusively from Camden Market doesn't make you appear interesting. You, unquestionably, look like an absolute twat.

- Registering as a resident at the Burgerampt. Okay, okay, it wasn't that bad and it was over pretty quick. But, when a terrifyingly stern man with an overwhelming moustache looks you up and down, examines your passport and scribbles something down on a form that you can't possible read you feel like an absolute English, ignorant cunt. Well... at least I did. "Ich spreche keine Deutsche" didn't seem to quite cut it. I threw in the, "I am here as I want to learn German" line as often as I could. But, still... afterwards I was so excited about being a resident and spent so long admiring my little certificate that I forgot about all that. This must be what having a baby is like.. the end result makes you forget the previous pain.

Now for the HIGHS:

- I am in Berlin! I fucking love Berlin. Without boring the shit out of anyone and everyone by rabbiting on about going to this bar and that place, I will simply summarise by declaring my absolute love for this city. Sure, I knew I loved it - it is why I came here. But it is totally different than when I've been here on holiday; I already feel like I know the city better and I love the fact that I have time to really discover it. I feel all settled and comfortable, kind of like this is home...

- Seeing Sonic Youth. They are more than a bit good.

- The apartment I am staying in, despite being internetless, is fucking amazing.

- I have eaten a pork based product and drunk beer on a daily basis since I have been here.

- Friends visiting. First was the turn of Hannah and Joe. Sure, I got them lost and took them to the worst club in Berlin (rock karaoke anyone?) but serious fun was had by all. I am soooo excited about all my upcoming visitors! People I love in Berlin equates to awesome times.

- Finding new places that I love, making a couple of friends and finally getting out of "This is a holiday" mode.

I am going to be good from now on and update this bloody thing on a regular basis, I promise. I might even get round to uploading my Holga pictures, what with that being the whole point of the fucking thing...

x

I live to serve.

In exactly one week I am moving Berlin. This is a pretty pivotal time for me, so being quite the narcissist, I assume that this is interesting for… well, everyone right? As the giving sort, I have ensured no one has to miss a thing by starting this blog. My expectations are nothing short of internet phenomenon. Perez Hilton is probably shitting himself. Most popular blog on the net? Not for much longer my friend.

Step one of the big move = unemployment. For the first time in my adult life, I am facing a lengthy period jobless. But hey! Don't panic! Sure, we are in a recession and yes, I am moving to an unemployment haven where the chances of me finding an actual job are slim to none. But it's okay. I've saved. I'm prepared... well, I've saved at least. This is a good thing I swear.

If nothing else, unemployment means a temporary (and I'm not kidding myself, very temporary) hiatus from the service industry. For the past seven years I have pulled pints for wankers at shit club nights, waited on tables of yummy fucking mummies in a local pub or served rich bitches in a fancypants department store.

I'll be honest with you, such jobs have had their ups and downs, but in a bid to give back to the industry, I have a compiled my top 5 tips for those who can’t quite grasp the simple etiquette involved when using said industry.

This is me making everyone’s life better. Those who it is directed at will hopefully learn and change their moronic ways, eventually allowing those it speaks for to let a little bit of that hatred they now have for mankind go. As I said, I am the giving sort.

1. Whatever the scenario, clicking your fingers won't get you served any quicker. Whosever attention you are trying to attract will just think you are an absolute cunt and will make you wait as long as possible. There are a number of reasons for this:

• Firstly, you ARE an absolute cunt.
• Secondly, overtime, all of that extra waiting will allow you to reflect on this, enabling you to hopefully realise just what a twat you are. Of course, this assumes that you have any level of intelligence to generate such self awareness. That may be a long shot, but heck, we’re optimists.
• Finally (and perhaps most importantly), those who do simply wait their turn without clicking their fingers deserve to get served before you. This is because, as far as we’re concerned, they are better people than you. They might not be. They could be genuinely evil, sadistic bastards, capable of some truly fucked up, David Cronenberg style shit. Perhaps they’re on their way home from a killing spree and they are waiting patiently to get their hands on that post psychopathic episode beer. But that is it. They are waiting patiently. That’s all we have to go on, so sod's law dictates it that in our eyes at least, they are better people than you. I'm not saying it is fair that you have to wait behind remorseless murderers to get a drink, but, as we've established you are a cunt, so you really don't deserve fairness do you? Plus, what if those patient punters aren't psychopaths? Just on the off chance that they are decent people, they can get their drink before you and you can just fuck off and die of thirst. If we give it enough time, natural selection should take care of it and the likes of you will die out, giving way to a better world where finger clickers are part of our ancestral past. We’re ignoring you yes, because we hate you, but also because we care about the human race.

TIP 2. We've established that clicking your fingers is a no no, but the detriment your hands can cause to you getting served does not end there. Add to this the tapping on counters, pointing and waving. Perhaps I seem a little harsh with the waving; on the surface it can seem relatively innocent and polite... sweet even. I can assure you, it is none of these things. If you are waiting at a bar, smile, look attentive and wait your fucking turn. If you are in a shop, beckoning someone across the shop floor with a 'sweet little wave' is rude, not to mention lazy. Walk over to them, open your mouth and politely ask them for their help like they are a fucking human being.

Also, whilst on the subject of waving - if you wave money around then you really are the lowest level of scum. Seriously, you should really think about killing yourself. Do you think by waving a twenty in someone's face they’ll think you’re special? Do you think they've never seen a fifty pound note before? Do you honestly think that you suddenly seem important? It won't, they have and you don't. No one gives a fuck how much money you have so you can stop acting like you're Bill fucking Gates because you happen to have some cash on you and WAIT YOUR TURN like everybody else.

TIP 3. When it comes to the service industry, there is a common mistake that so many make; the simple distinction between… say, waitressing and prostitution. Now in the instance of a waitress, her breasts aren’t up for sale, so there really is no reason for you to bring them up. I know that menu can be tricky, but, if in doubt ask a friend (you have a friend right?), and hopefully they can explain to you what a marinated chicken breast is. Also, you’ve just fucking met her… she’s not your sweetheart, your honey, your darling or any of the other ‘choocey coo’ names you’ve got. She’s a grown-up. Talk to her like one you patronising fuckwit.

It’s not just women either. Talking to guys that work in the service industry like they are a piece of meat isn’t okay. Shocking I know. Nor is it okay to talk down to them. It may come as a massive surprise, but serving you isn’t their sole purpose in life. They are doing a job; outside of this they have lives, undoubtedly more thrilling than your own. Just because they pour you a drink for a living, it doesn’t mean you fucking own them, so no, you really can't talk down to them.

TIP 4. Know what it is that you want. This isn't a free therapy session - we are not here to help you weigh up the pros and cons of every stupid fucking little thing. And believe me, I'm doing you a favour. If it takes you twenty minutes to decide between a Smirnoff ice and a blue WKD then what the fuck happens when you have to make a decision that might actually hold some gravitas. So, I'll help you. Neither. They are both disgusting. Have a proper drink you fucking pussy.

And this rule doesn't just apply to bars: When eating out, don't tell the waiting staff that you’re ready to order and then have them stand and watch you spend twenty minutes pondering the menu like it is more complex than quantum fucking physics. Menus are quite simple; it is just food put together with other food to form a meal. These are then listed and you pick the one that you most want to eat. A Brief History of Time it is not. If someone has to explain that to you then you should not be allowed out to eat in public... at least not without adequate supervision.

Finally don't walk into a shop with some vague idea of what it is that you want to buy and expect whoever works there to miraculously go and get it for you; saying something like "I want to buy some jeans" as you walk into Levis will ensure that whoever is serving you hates you and believe me, they will sell you whatever it is that will make you most look like a dickhead. Plus, if you are buying a gift for someone and you don't know what it is they would like or what size they are, then neither do we as WE HAVE NEVER MET THEM YOU ABSOLUTE MORON.

TIP 5. Finally, let us get back to the basics. Please. Thank you. So simple, my two-year-old nephew has had it covered for a good year now. Yet, it seems to be lost on so many. For the sake of argument, I am going to assume that you are smarter than a two-year-old so I won't spend too long outlining the concept. This is just the basic premise; When asking someone for something that you want, follow that request with a "please". Then, when they give it to you, respond by saying "thank you". That is it. It really is that easy. So why act like it is so fucking difficult?

Don't just walk up to a shop counter, throw whatever useless shit you' happen to be buying down, follow it with some money then watch whilst the shop assistant bags it up and hands it to you, only for you to walk away without even acknowledging them. Equally, don't walk up to a bar and point at what you want, throw your money down and walk away, beer in hand without even uttering so much as an "hello". Look at who is serving you, acknowledge them… go mental and throw in a smile. If you happen to be on your mobile, unless you're a member of MI5 and that call is a matter of national security, hang up the fucking phone. This is all common courtesy. As I said, a two-year-old can grasp it so it really shouldn't stretch your capabilities.