Gay Paree

I was in Paris the other day.

And because I really enjoyed that sentence, I will say it again. With more nonchalance.

I was in Paris the other day.

Standing by the roadside. Minding my business behind my shades. The glasses from Hades. You know, burnt black. There were a lot of pretty girls around. I get tapped tapped on my shoulder, and an arm is snaked through mine. It is a feminine arm.

Hot damn!

I whip around to count all of three teeth in the wizened old crones widely grinning face.

Damn.

She rasps something out in French. It is all Greek to me. We parry (Paree, get it?) around for a while. She finally takes matters into her own hand and hobbles across the road, dragging me along for support. I had the dubious honour of being selected to escort her across the wide open spaces of the Boulevard St. Germain.

Double damn.

I did get a peck on the cheek out of that. Of the three toothed variety. Does it count?

The secret of eternal youth

As you all may know, and if not, now you do, I am but a boy. A mere speck of twenty wasted years... give or take a few months.

You may well ask why time has so conveniently stopped for me. Though the obvious device of smashing any clock in sight with a cunningly concealed pocket sledgehammer, and ignoring the ones that are either out of reach or owned by large muscular specimens may help, I think the truth lies in a couple of my planets being exalted. Astrologically speaking.

Because, most people's planets are not so salted, I offer them an alternative path to eternal youth. Almost.

A few days ago I was out strolling with my grandfather and aunt. He was telling us the secret of eternal youth. A secret he extracted out of an eighty year old sage who looked forty and jumped from crag to crag inside railway bogies*. As the aunt of mine is chugging along the forties, she was rather interested. Who wouldn't want to look like a new born?. Yeah, I know the nappy does ride up the arse, but you know, all your needs get taken care of. So, she was clinging on to these golden words with two flapping ears.

"So the wise old man says to me, 'The secret of eternal youth is a daily shot of Amla** mixed with...' er mixed with..."

"Mixed with what" my aunt shrieks

"I don't remember. It has been a long time. It is that thing, which, ugh... , you know"

" No, I don't. Come one, this is the most important bit.", she yowled, seeing eternal youth vanishing into eternity.

... and so it carried on.

Until he remembered.

But, I forget.

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*You need to have travelled in an 3-tier sleeper coach on an Indian train to get that one.

**Indian gooseberry. Sorry you people out West. You are shit outta luck. Especially England. They stole all the money, but forgot the good stuff.