Everything filed under: 'Belgium'
Brussels and dogdirt – a user’s guide
Media:
- The brown crayon of Belgium – from the Telegraph
- “You have to look down to avoid the dog mess on its famously besmirched streets” – The Financial Times
Legal:
- Brussels tackles dog dirt – Expatica.com
- The use of municipal administrative sanctions by the municipalities of Brussels – from The E-Journal for Academic Research on Brussels
Political
- “Brussels is also a dirty town: illegal dumping, dog dirt everywhere, public areas used as toilets” – from Jutta Buyse
- “Something around dog shit in Brussels seems sort of appropriate” – from Beeth.com
Observational
- “Brussels is the dogdirt capital of Europe” – from Eurojism
- “Rain, dog-dirt and undisciplined drivers” – from Virtual Tourist
- “If there’s one thing Brussels has no shortage of, it’s gotta be dog shit” – from Belgium Studs
- “Belgium – gorgeous buildings, good food, too much dog shit” – from Gerant
The Surreal
My Boyfriend is a Twat – the book
Zoe, Brussels doyenne of the bloggers and Princess of the Written Word, has turned her wonderfully successful and much-loved blog into a book – My Boyfriend is a Twat (the book).
According to one review on Amazon, it is “finally or at last or something likely in english … yep yep yep … wonderful beautiful so marvelous sproing sproing sproing juchhu …”. This did it for me. I bought a copy.
Then swing by to see Zoe and say thank you.
Belgian drivers and Paul Theroux
I am now married.
I am also still alive, despite the best efforts of a large man in a large car, who cut me up on Montgomery roundabout and sent me flying off my scooter. I have a sore thumb. The scooter is written off.
I was actually quite upset. But now I’m okay. Thanks for asking.
I have just read My Secret History by Paul Theroux and it was loathsome and brilliant.
I will now stop start sentences with “I”. Or shoot me.
Not big, not clever
Lily Allen rocked Brussels last night. She didn’t recognise me, even though I was close enough to smell her. She smelled alright. The guitarist was a kid I went to school with. He’s been all over the world playing a guitar. Not a bad job, I thought.
The past couple of weeks I haven’t been writing much because I wanted to be a spook, and thus discrete. But the intelligence service I applied to wasn’t intelligent enough to notice that I didn’t meet all the eligibility criteria from the off. Months and money have been wasted going to and from interviews for a job I wasn’t allowed to apply for. So now that’s a definite no, I can post naked pictures of myself on the internet computer and not worry about them falling into the hands of teerrrrists.
So to celebrate I got myself a MySpace account and am hooking up with various people I haven’t even thought about for ten years, including guitarists for famous pop stars. Reckon that’s a job I could do.
Lewis Crofts – unashamed plug
Lewis is a great friend of mine. For the past few years he’s been shying away from his responsibilities in the pub and writing a book. It must be good because somebody’s publishing it.
I read a very early draft version and it was a revelation (unblinkered and unbiaised product review). Any novel that has the word “syphilis” in the first sentence is alright by me.
It’s the embellished biography of dirty old painter Egon Schiele, protegé of Klimt and imprisoned for creating porn. It charts his father’s insanity, his suppressed lust for his sister and a fair bit of homo-erotic fumbling with famous characters from an age gone by.
The publication date isn’t until next year, but you can be guaranteed to get a pristine first edition, bound to be worth a fortune, by pre-ordering NOW your copy of The Pornographer of Vienna. Click away.
(He doesn’t know this yet, but he’ll be doing free beer and personalised book signings for anybody who shows up at his signing event in Brussels next spring.)
Once you’ve done that, swing on by and visit lewiscrofts.com
Notes on the last few days
I have left my job due to a particularly nasty bout of papercutitis.
In preparation for a new life of cold-calling and sales-talk I woke early this morning and sat through Glengarry Glen Ross
I went out for a jar or three to celebrate last night and ran into what seemed to be a Brussels Bloggers Convention. Tippler, Zoe, Aunty Marianne and Daphne were all there. Somebody asked me “what do you do? Are you a blogger?” If you’d asked my grandfather that, he probably would have punched you.
I went to Planckendael Zoo. Although the bonobos and bongos were worth it, it put me off kids for a while.
I’ve asked Tom to redesign Kim Bah Lee (the website, not the person). As soon as it’s done, I’ll recommend him heartily.
I’ll already recommend a friend’s new business. Roland of White Riders has opened SkiidyGonzales. If any of you are near Geneva this winter, give him a call.
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