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.

I love Berlin. But I honestly don’t think I will be coming back

I love Berlin. But I honestly don’t think I will be coming back. A completely uneventful, unarousing visit. When I think of all the erotic attractions on offer in Nuremberg or Frankfurt, why do I bother with Berlin. 77, Monte Carlo and Sissi were all pretty awful. The ruination of Berlin Zoo station continues—two days in a row I have not even been able to buy a Guardian newspapers here. In the Bavarian restaurant now, waiting for my rumpsteak. Gorgeous salad. So yesterday, what did I do? After several beers in the hotel reception, off to Hitler’s bunker and Wilhelmstraβe. Then to David Bowie’s café and house. King George was rubbish. Six girls, no one took my fancy. Back to hotel, McDonald’s, then bed. Woke 1130pm and rushed to BEC (in Lewishamstraβe!) but the kabins were rubbish. In poor state. One kabin the buttons don’t work, the next kabin the buttons work but it does not take your coins. Hard work. A lot of money wasted for nothing. 77, Sissi, Monte Carlo all poor. I will try Ciro or Caligula tonight—expensive, but I have to try something. Now all I want is food.

The Kanthotel no longer has minibars

The Kanthotel no longer has minibars, but you can collect ice cold bottles of beer (or draught beer) from the reception so that’s OK. The staff now all wear uniforms; last time I stayed that sexy receptionist was always in tight fluffy sweaters of different colours. Figure-hugging. So yes, lovely to be so close to Monte Carlo and Sissi Bar but how lonely and out of place they now look, surrounded by “respectable” businesses. They LOOKED like an anachronism. 12 midday on my first beer of the day. Cold, but sunny outside. Hopefully it will be raining before I go out. Well, I take it back, a new blonde receptionist in a black lace top.

Stuttgarter Platz has been reduced to 10% of what it was

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.

Brussels (7)

So my next holiday? Well perhaps back to Berlin

So my next holiday? Well, perhaps back to Berlin. Yes. Stuttgarter Platz has been wiped out with just Sissi Bar and Monte Carlo left but there is something so low-down sleazy about those two places that I like (and let’s face it, they are cheap, which is the sexiest thing of all). And if King George really is just 49 euros for entry, then worth trying that again. Oh, it would be lovely if I could just let myself go and f–k someone tonight but I don’t think it is going to happen. Apart from Denisa, the Manhattan’s current crop of girls—apparently sans Adelina—depresses me. Tete a Tete is at least cheaper, just 6 euros for a beer. If I go late enough, there may be some dancing.

I wish I COULD find something/someone to come back to Berlin for

I wish I COULD find something/someone to come back to Berlin for, because I do feel so comfortable here—here in the Berlin Plaza bar. In Berlin Erotic Point, and Stuttgarter Platz. But a city always needs a star to get me to come back, and it has been so many years since I found a star in Berlin. Hanky Panky, Mon Cheri, Night Dreams, Chocolat, Starlight, Golden Gate, Blue Angel, all closed down, a cataclysm; also Black & White and Mazurka and more I cannot even remember. Warm blue skies when I woke this morning; that’s what made me want to go back to sleep and close the curtains; now lead grey snow heavy skies. Ah, this moment usually comes when I am on holiday—Streets of London on the Plaza hotel radio. Always moving (when I’ve had a few).