Yes so the “northern route” to Berlin I think is over for me

Yes, so, the “northern route” to Berlin I think is over for me. I see no reason to ever go back there, now Stuttgarter Platz’s golden age is over. So the only route that remains is the “southern route”—Brussels to Munich to Vienna. Second beer gone. 925pm. I expect nothing from Intime or the Reves or the Livourne places, except real rip off expensive hostess bars, a fortune just to buy a girl a drink. Another reason why Fifth Avenue is so wonderful (despite the sad dearth of quality girls); if you want to buy a girl a drink it is normal prices, same for them as for you. Munich died for me when they put private dances up from 25 euros to 50 euros, whenever that happened. And it is funny how it is uniform across every club you go to—in every club it was 25, now in every club it’s 50. It is almost like the city government sets the price for private dances—is that the case? Part of the licencing stipulations (stripulations)? If one club was allowed to undercut the others they would do roaring trade but they do not. One can only presume they are not allowed to. A far cry from the glory days back in 2003, 2004, when Patricia let me get my man out and put some kitchen roll over her breasts to catch the result. Don’t think that kind of thing would happen now. The emasculation-sterilisation-castration of old male Europe continues. The human race will die out eventually; that is the end result of damming up men’s juices in this way. Kind of like where they burn books they will eventually burn people. Where they ban masturbation/pornography/stripclubs they will ban sex. Then the feminazis and the Islamists will be happy. For god’s sake Europe, stand up for your old Priapic rights! One fears it is too late, the tide is already irreversible.
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Soho is dead now for me, of course; as is Berlin. As is Munich

Soho is dead now for me, of course; as is Berlin. As is Munich. Just Brussels and Vienna left. Brussels once a month and Vienna twice a year perhaps. I’ve learnt getting the Megabus to Brussels IS a viable and not TOO painful option (for just £20 or so!); but no way would I get the coach back—waiting in the freezing cold outside Gare du Nord station at 1am for a bus that may never be turning up, and if it does no idea if it is full up with screaming teenagers or football hooligans.

Yes Fifth Avenue is poor but better just to see it as a stopping off point on the way to Rue d’Aerschot

Yes Fifth Avenue is poor but better just to see it as a stopping off point on the way to Rue d’Aerschot where you are guaranteed to find at least one girl you fancy. As always I have my Stations of the Cross. I had it in Soho back in the 1990s fin-de-siecle, had it in Berlin during the Mon Cheri/Stutti golden age, and I have it now in Brussels. Start with Jupiler in the hotel, then a brief stop in Cine Paris, then one in Café Jimmy, then walk along the street girls to Fifth Avenue. Only then can I head up to Rue d’Aerschot. Perhaps a Brussels Grill or Domino’s Pizza on the way back. Later that night if I wake up in time, a last visit to Cine Paris.

I feel so at home in the Max Hotel. I really could live here

I feel so at home in the Max Hotel. I really could live here. If I was able to do that, I would be a happy man. Sadly, I do have to work in London—in a very lovely job. And yes the Cine Paris films have been crap again, the street girls have been crap again, the 5th Avenue girls are really crap, the Empire dancers are really crap—but it doesn’t matter; it is enough that these places exist. Finding the occasional diamond in these places is worth the wait. There was AMAZING quality in the Nuremberg windows and laufhauses and I did nothing with any of them. It is about finding places I feel comfortable, and I have that in Brussels. I will wait for the odd diamond to come to the surface; hopefully one day soon these jihadist losers will fade away and Brussels can really start to bloom & blossom again (erotically speaking). Berlin for me is dead, erotically speaking. When Stuttgarter Platz was wiped out, then for me Berlin was wiped out. The memories from those nights in Hanky Panky, Mon Cheri and Golden Gate in particular are so strong, so glorious. Munich for me is dead, erotically speaking, nothing on offer except 50 euro private dances! Waste of time and money. And Nuremberg I don’t think I will return to. So that leaves Brussels and Vienna. And from this week’s experience NOTE TO SELF—no more long train journeys in summer. So Brussels only for summer. Vienna can wait for winter.

So no I don’t think I will ever go back to Berlin again I’m sad to say

So no I don’t think I will ever go back to Berlin again, I’m sad to say (not for years anyway); and it will be a long time till I return to Vienna; but Nuremberg still interests me and Brussels has come back nicely to a bit of life. Pleased to see Cine Paris still open certainly, after many rumours of its imminent demise. It is amazing how I was able to keep going for so long yesterday; I had several cans of Jupiler large and small while watching the England game, then several Maes in Fifth Avenue, one more beer with my steak, followed by a pizza, but then I still went back out and had 3 more Maes in Empire; it was only really my rising feeling of indigestion and my pizza coming back up that made me leave when I did, 1am? Not even sure.

I was dizzy with erotic anticipation in the weeks & days leading up to my trip and I wondered whether I would be able to carry it with me

I was dizzy with erotic anticipation in the weeks & days leading up to my trip and I wondered whether I would be able to carry it with me and still feel the same when I got there; as I suspected, no. During my stay in Berlin I felt almost completely a-sexual. But as always it just takes one beautiful bottom or one beautiful pair of bosoms to get me in the mood again. I hope it happens in Brussels. My train to Koln is already 21 minutes late, giving me just 13 minutes to spare to catch my connection. I sat drinking my one beer surrounded by floozies in King George, Club 77, Monte Carlo and Sissi Bar and felt completely unmoved and unaroused by all of them. I hope something happens in Brussels to shake me out of my torpor. This is madness.