Zoe Adieu. Rihanna Love on the Brain. Again, reward for doing something DIFFERENT? By taking that long walk down to Le Coin yesterday I have revolutionised my future trips to Brussels (perhaps). The old Gare du Midi nexus suddenly regains pre-eminence over the Max Nexus. More than anything I look forward to getting back to the good honest butt-naked knickerless strippers of London. Topless only strip clubs are an abomination, and I take them as a personal insult. Joe Dassin Et Si tu n’existais pas. That song I only heard in Empire’s topless only strip club here in Brussels.
So many times on the bus or the train you see an incredibly beautiful girl you would like to f–k, but coming in to the strip club or the brothel you see no one you like AT ALL; this is where gamers like Mr Francis win over me. However, there are exceptions. You always occasionally find a jewel in the strip clubs of London or the floozie bars of Brussels or Vienna at least. Adelina, Lucy, Andrea, Diane, legends of my life. I love the OPEN sexuality of prostitutes and strippers. The completely OUT THERE sexuality of them. I love this world, this broken world maybe, but I love this world. I have no interest in teasing, coaxing their sexuality out of them (or ability); I want it all out there, in the open, full frontal, primal, BESTIAL.
The only regret I have about not going to the Empire strip club last night (topless only strip clubs always easy to resist) is I didn’t get to hear some lovely loud pounding music, just to be in that atmosphere of a crowded (hopefully) strip club on a Saturday night. But honestly with each tiny bottle of beer (25ml) costing 10 euros—that’s like £8 for half a pint?—it is not worth it. In BFYB terms (Bang for your Buck) the Cine Paris and Fifth Avenue are all I could really recommend—apart from the Rue d’Aerschot window girls of course; if that environment turns you on (I’m afraid it doesn’t for me). There is Le Coin of course, a downmarket cousin of Fifth Avenue, down at bottom end of Terre Neuve not far from Gare du Midi, but its bland greasy spoon café atmosphere turns me off as well. And Cine ABC gone a long time ago of course, heartbreakingly, along with the next door California videokabins, which were really good if memory serves me right.
And Empire was so poor it for sure makes me not want to go back there Wednesday night, and will hesitate a lot about ever going back for a long time after that as well. Without Jennifer—one of the most incredibly beautiful dancers ever—it is really poor. I should only come here on a Friday or a Saturday night when at least the atmosphere is better. In a spirit of defiant masochism I may step into Gascogne tonight, if open, for the ritual 20 euro waste of time with lots of hassle/hustle. And yes the Cine Paris films were no more than OK, but what joy to be sitting again in a proper luxurious porn cinema; of the type that no longer exists in London since the tragic demise of Astral, Sunset and Soho Cinemas. 1153 My first Jupiler of the day finished. Out to shop for a second one.
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.
I was thinking to give Gascogne another try on this trip; expecting nothing, just out of masochism, and the fact it is right next to my hotel so easy place for a nightcap. At least Empire has a proper non-stop walkway strip show (topless only). At Gascogne the girls do a little twirl around a pole then come to you for tips; no, fuck off. But anyway, it is closed. Whether temporary for refurbishment of the building or permanently, I cannot say; there is plastic fencing around the building, and scaffolding so might just be refurbishment to stop the building from collapsing. Empire is free entry but 10 euros for small 25cl beers, whereas Gascogne is 20 euros entry with 2 free drinks, so it works out much the same. Empire has a real star in the shape of the Indian-Hungarian Sonia though, the most fabulous figure you will ever see, and Gascogne as far as I know doesn’t.