I’m afraid my opinion of French music—as adduced from the music channels in my Brussels hotel room, D17, C-Star, RFM in some Brussels bars & others—is that it is AS WEAK AS PISS. This is my overwhelming impression year on year. And then I see a video like ————– & I feel almost physically repulsed; I find it contemptible! I find it RISIBLE, my understanding of the word “risible” being somewhere between laughable and contemptible. Too bad to be laughable. Worse than that. And oh yes, there is the Ladyboy in it as well. Of course Kendji Ladyboy Girac is in it. That tells you everything. Honestly, is this MANLINESS? Is there any MANLINESS left in France? We have all in Europe become so effete, so emasculated, but nowhere it seems to me worse than in France. If, if, if their music is any guide. I try on Youtube to find something more interesting, with more guts, more balls, more oomph, but only can find Maitre Gims, Izia, perhaps. Oh but is English music better? 19 Ed Shit Sheeran songs in the Top 20? It is modern music. 2007-9 was like a golden age—massive tunes from Timbaland, Furtado, Timberlake, Kanye. Music these days is as weak as piss, as is the male condition. We need a return of the barbarians—reason for the triumph of Trump perhaps, and rise of Marine Le Pen, more balls than any man in France. Stand up for your own culture, be like a wolf. You think me anti-multiculture? No way. I am pro-multiculture—but multiculture with balls, with your own spirit. No self-castration, and self-emasculation, no self-sterilisation, no self-surrender, no self-diminution, no self-suicide. Stand up like lions for your own culture, and let in all the full exoticism and colour and fruit of other cultures, too. But no, not this weak as piss effeminate weak as piss Ladyboy Kendji Girac surrender. Theresa May has more balls than any male politician in Great Britain.
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.
Stuttgarter Platz has been reduced to 10% of what it was, if you want to talk of quantity of clubs. But if you want to factor in the QUALITY of the remaining floozies, just 1% of what it was—back in 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006. Thus the ice retreats, further and further. Climate change irreversible—just a question of WHEN all the ice will gone, not IF it will happen. You mark my words, not only whores and porn cinemas, but one day in our lifetime even pornography will be banned, even masturbation will be banned. Anyone possessing an old black & white photo of a naked woman will be hunted down and ostracised like a pariah. Thus the emasculation, castration (Islamisation?) of Europe runs out of control. 102 already.
A very attractive black-haired policewoman going down the road, puffing on a cigarette. I don’t think the Metropolitan Police are allowed to do that. The fact that I’m sure the WSK hookers’ days’ are numbered might prompt me to return to Vienna much sooner than I otherwise might have. Is another of my favourite naughty places really about to bite the dust. I lost Fortuna Kino and Flying Scotsman in 2015. Surely I will lose WSK and Rue des Commercants at some point in 2016. I think as well as the emasculation, puritanisation, sterilisation, castration of old masculine Europe, we can say we are seeing the Islamisation of Europe. The French minister who brought in the law criminalising men who use prostitutes was Najat Belkacem, of Moroccan Muslim stock. The mayor of Brussels Sint-Joost who has made the window girls close down at 11pm at night and on Sundays is Emir Kir, another person of Muslim faith. I’m not sure who provoked the police raids of Fortuna Kino after all these years of harmless naughty fun but one would not be surprised to see an increased Muslim representation in the local Vienna government. This despite the fact when you walk up and down the windows of Rue d’Aerschot, probably 90% of the men around you are Muslim; about 50% of the men I see in Fifth Avenue are Muslim. When I am back in London, I could walk around the corner and have a pint in the Scottish Stores, the Flying Scotsman as was; how depressing would that be. Is there anything more depressing than seeing an establishment where I enjoyed some of the greatest naughty highs of my life, the “high nights that persuade us to put off suicide”, now turned into “respectable” establishments. All those crushingly depressing cocktail bars and sports bars in Stuttgarter Platz, the Gelado Cocktail Bar which once was Mon Cheri, Albert’s Bar which once was Starlight, Night Dreams and Golden Gate, etc, etc. All the sperm that was ejaculated in those bedrooms, all the orgasms, all the sexual spiritual highs.
THINGS WE LOST IN 2015: THE FORTUNA KINO IN VIENNA stopped having the 2 hookers on site. After several police raids and inspections, the kino no longer has hookers on site. THE FLYING SCOTSMAN STRIP PUB Closed down on October 5th and is now a craft beer pub of depressing respectability. Under threat for 2016: If the Fortuna’s stopped having hookers, then the WSK is obviously going to have to follow suit sooner or later. So the ere of porn kino sex in Vienna is nearing its end—why? Who on earth was it hurting? What damage was it doing to ANYONE? The castration, emasculation, sterilisation of Europe continues. This Puritanism baffles me. Just denying people pleasure; for what? Also under threat: the mayor of Brussels wanted the street girls of the Rue des Commercants gone by the end of 2015, so surely only a matter of time before he gets his way there as well.
When I come back to Munich I just think of the extraordinary emotions I went through in the past, with Suzy, with Bella Rosa, with Patricia, with Irina, with Victoriya, with Emily. Such high nights; those ‘high nights that persuade us to put off suicide’. Long ago though. My more recent visits have been decidedly more prosaic. No handjobs, no coming over tits, no falling head over heels in love! This is how the emasculation and castrating of modern Europe by the feminists destroys all pleasure, all joy, all wild abandon. Sorry, all paid for pleasure, paid for joy, paid for wild abandon. I must never forget the narrow telescope I see the world through. My sole (limited, modest) ambition of this trip to Munich/Nuremberg? To at least feel a pair of massive breasts in my hands. Lay your money, ladies & gentlemen! Place your bets, monsieurs & madames! Always the legend of Martini in Nuremberg hangs, pendulously, ginormously over everything. All night I stayed with her lesser-endowed friend, Diana, when all I could think of was the massively endowed Martina. I went back many times but never met her again. This is life. You must take your chances (and your massive breasts) when they present themselves to you.