I had legendary nights in Soho and legendary nights in Berlin and in Munich and in Vienna

December 27, 2016 § Leave a comment

I had legendary nights in Soho, and legendary nights in Berlin, and in Munich, and in Vienna; but it is perhaps wrong to think things are so bad when I go now. In a couple of years the trips I am making now may also come to seem legendary. It is like coal; your experiences only become rich when years of other experiences are pressed down on top of them. That is how diamonds and rubies and all the other precious stones and minerals are formed.

The building on the corner of Berwick Street and Peter Street I used to see Siberian Olga (and Romanian Lela) in

December 12, 2016 § Leave a comment

The building on the corner of Berwick Street and Peter Street I used to see Siberian Olga (and Romanian Lela) in and sit with her on Saturday nights drinking vodka with as she decided which customers to open the door to, is now gone; a new building gone up in its place and occupied by a bike shop, with perhaps some aptness, I don’t know. The building opposite the Red Lion (where Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels were tasked to write the Communist Manifesto at the second Congress of the Communist League in 1847) where I used to see Spanish Ana Maria is now gone, and still remains just a hole in the ground, which may also have some aptness. The Astral Adult Cinema in Brewer Street (the first pornographic cinema I ever went to) is gone. The Carnival Striptease in Old Compton Street (the second strip club I ever went to) is gone. The Boulevard Striptease (third strip club I ever went to) in Brewer’s Court is going next month apparently. Already at my young age I have lost so many of the places where I had my erotic education. As the Soho places closed down, I spread my wings (to use a euphemism) to Europe, and even there my treasured places are mostly gone. Stutti Frutti where I lost my Berlin virginity to Yulia in that black Rennie Mackintosh bedroom with the four poster bed, Mon Cheri where I fell in love/longing with Riccarda in the same claustrophobic room, Golden Gate where I fell in love/longing with Iga, Hanky Panky, Starlight, have all gone. In Vienna, Pour Platin where I lost my Vienna virginity to Maria (still my only Vienna consummation), is gone. In London these places are really over for me. In Berlin and Vienna at least there are still plenty of other places to try.

I used to fall in love with Soho whores on a regular basis

December 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

I used to fall in love with Soho whores on a regular basis, I can quite believe Prince Eddy falling in love with a Cleveland Street whore. I fell in love/longing with Siberian Olga, Swedish Pamela, Romanian Lela, Spanish Ana Maria, can never forget massive-breasted Greek Andrea. For gentlemen of refined tastes, the lure of these florid and lurid women of the fleshpots is quite addictive. If you have got money to spare it is so tempting to indulge yourself with these butterflies and Esmeraldas of the salons. And in Berlin I fell in love/longing with Berlin blonde Riccarda, Polish Iga, in Munich with Romanian Emily, Ukrainian Viktoriya, Slovakian Susi. I have spent my entire adult life falling in love with Esmeraldas and Tallulahs (whores and strippers). I have come perilously close to marrying several of them but managed to escape with my life by the skin of my teeth every time.

Always my build up to a night at the opera (usually the Coliseum) would be some drinks in the Chandos

November 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

Always my build up to a night at the opera (usually the Coliseum) would be some drinks in the Chandos, then into the dark basements of Sunset Strip and the Carnival, then into the darkness of the Astral Cinema or Soho Cinema, then ready to explode to a model’s room, usually too drunk and tight to finish, still ready to explode into my balcony seat at the Coliseum.

A couple of pints in the Nellie Dean in Dean Street where the beautifully voluptuous Lucy keeps the candles lit and the fires burning

November 10, 2016 § Leave a comment

A couple of pints in the Nellie Dean in Dean Street, where the beautifully voluptuous Lucy keeps the candles lit and the fires burning and the innumerable plants & flowers watered, and you never know she might even pull you a pint, before heading down the road, past Quo Vadis above which Karl Marx used to live. Sad to see they have repainted their front so the word MARX has been removed—temporarily one hopes. How Soho has changed in the last 5 or 6 years. Past the old Intrepid Fox (now Byron at the Intrepid Fox), and the new building on the right of Peter Street which replaces the old models flats where I used to go to see my Siberian Cleopatra Olga. To the Tisbury Court peep show—the two girls peer through the letterbox and seem irritated that I am making no effort to wank. As if I am wasting their time! I do not find these places at all arousing, but I love them because they are such a charming remnant of old school Soho. Old men in raincoats Soho. They are aesthetically very pleasing. To Windmill Street then past the Red Lion where Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels chaired the second congress of the Communist League, now a Be@One (“workers of the world be at one”?). Opposite is a big hole in the ground where once was the models flats where I used to see Spanish Ana Maria who came so close to giving me a lift home with her. Down to Shaftesbury Avenue, always so redolent of Ernest Dowson to me, and Piccadilly Circus, from where I catch my No.38 back home.

nellie_dean

The years of seduction, violence, decay now seem like a lost golden age though at the time I was desperate to escape to find something real

September 2, 2016 § Leave a comment

The years of seduction, violence, decay now seem like a lost golden age, though at the time I was desperate to escape to find something real. Now I have something real I miss the old seduction, violence, decay. To be able to marry the two together, or enjoy in balance side by side, that is my dream. The Spice of Life is very nice, so much more comfortable than the Cambridge next door. Even if I am prepared to do something naughty, I just cannot think of anywhere to go to now. The Carnival I sorely miss. Sunset Strip is a waste of time these days–a travesty of what it used to be, ditto Boulevard. Astral gone. Pamela, Betty days all gone. I just don’t have a clue what to do to have a naughty time these days. In the end I always end up back at the —. Oh I could try the Pepys. I came in the Spice of Life with Olga once.

I offer a guide to the world of strip clubs, brothels and porn cinemas from the point of view of a gentleman connoisseur—a sort of bosom Baedeker

July 14, 2016 § Leave a comment

I offer a guide to the world of strip clubs, brothels and porn cinemas from the point of view of a gentleman connoisseur—a sort of bosom Baedeker. An unhealthy obsession with bosoms and buttocks has led me to a very rich life, and an expensive one. The “voluptuous sea of scented bosoms” claimed me at a very young age, and has never let me go. The other Esmeraldas who I nearly got involved with but ran away from at the last moment were Pamela, a young Swedish girl with gorgeously pretty face and big bosoms, Lela a Romanian with the most perfect bottom, and Olga, who was just massively voluptuous all over with a big cat’s face, like Master & Margarita, my sumptuous Siberian Cleopatra, who let me sleep a couple of times at her flat while her boyfriend was “in Italy”, a euphemism I in those days had not yet cottoned on to. That I have a mind completely bitten by the serpent of sex will by now have become apparent.

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