Afternoon delight

Unlike Belgium, the UK is quite bothered about breakfast and mid morning TV. Presenter folk like Richard & Judy (national treasures) or Lorraine Kelly (the giggler) are well known names in Lovetvland.

Although many are famous, no man has quite met the bar left over 10 years ago on TVAM by a true innovator. Neither before nor since has a black bespectacled and be-baseball capped man done so much for luminous coloured Lycra, belts and sweat bands. For 7 minutes each morning he visibly enjoyed trying to make people jump around in front of their TV (to get fit).

In today's climate, where groups like Take That make quietly jealous every man in England (by making adolescently giddy every 20something woman in England) by releasing the same singles as they did 10 years ago - the king of domestic exercise is back.

In conjunction with one of Gussly's favourite people, Claire, whose firm does the hard work, I am proud today to link LIVE to the one and only Mr Motivator. Get with it at home or in the office; release the inner you; join your family and friends! From 2pm today put your hands up for Saint Lycra and get funky!

Santa delivers radical change

A true consequence of Christmas has come to south west Surrey (in southern England). Any I-spy players would spot over orders on poultry, Range Rovers, country-green jumpers and this year's new entry: smiling faces.

Why are people happy? Is it climate change; are folk concerned about the gulf stream and showing a more human side? Or are they grateful to have seen so many must have fragrance and over-the-counter indigestion remedy adverts? Maybe. Maybe it was Father Christmas, who in the anglo-saxon world is due to 'drop off' (his presents) this evening.

On this blog, Gussly has often noted the relationship between money and happiness; with no definitive conclusion yet reached. This holiday season The Economist has joined the fray essentially saying money brings you money not happiness. (They're a clever bunch.)

Anyway, in many ways one might expect the onset of winter to cause the folk of this corner to wrap up warm. Not so. Since returning from Thailand it is shiveringly obvious to me the English wear less. Lord knows why.

Whether owing to Father Christmas or the onset of stupidly cold weather, it is a relief to report the people of this home county are now better prepared to be warmer.

As well as smiles more people are donning more winter clothes. Ah ha! Maybe that's why they're all smiling.

Young, gifted, and available soon

All publicity is good publicity. Most of the time. Gussly put into google returns 301 results (up from zero). Two stand out: 'fat gussly cat' and 'gussly wussly 54' are probably the lowlights. I am also quoted between 'rubber' and 'Schlüsse' on a German site which I presume is something I want to know no more about.

Regrettably, I cannot claim these references as derivatives of this blog. But the majority of the remaining results, of which I am very thankful, are listed thanks to the linkage to and from other sites. I am on the www map. Albeit a small cul de sac of Irrelevantville.

As well as being standing proof that men think (and talk) about sex every 6 seconds, Lewis Crofts, is someone who has written something in a more sought after suburb of literature. 'The Pornographer of Vienna', his brilliant first novel, set in the thick of the Great War, deserves all the praise it gets because it's all right. Believe the hype.

Lewis has made a site to big-up his book. Support a young author, read all about it. Say congratulations from me. The book is released May 22nd. Make sure you're free to go shopping that day. Alternatively give the author an early Christmas boost: pre-order your copy on Amazon.

Employed in Unemployment

Although officially Gussly is a job-seeker, according to convention I am in fact a bum. In my new role the astonishing thing is quite how busy it all is.

How often do you consciously acknowledge to others you are, for example, striving or developing or impressing or implementing something? In working to find work I describe and do more riveting verbs than you can shake a stick or a thesaurus at; more even than I can fit on a 2 page CV; not to mention more than in some previous paid employments.

The nitty gritty of job search is not noteworthy. Needless to say, it is samey and requires optimism. Meeting Recruitment Consultants along the way requires even more.

The reduction in my ability to be creative on this blog is attributable to my mind being necessarily occupied pursuing possible work. It's not all bad though. On the plus side I could detail for you the public transport possibilities of South West Surrey's London connections... Another time perhaps.

The net's cast

'No fish left within 50 years' recently headlined in the UK, my new home. Fish and their eaters aside the other big losers or winners, depending on your day time British TV preferences, will be the too plentiful cooking shows.

One ripple of shock hit BBC TV's Saturday Kitchen provoking a nostalgic retaliation of re-airing Keith Floyd 27 years ago bouncing around aboard a trawler in the English Channel. Amongst white crested over-head crashing waves he juggled then cooked the then abundant sea food.

Back in the studio and the present the rarely seen in daylight, Tom Aikens, youngest British chef awarded 2 Michelin stars, fondly fondled his line caught sea bass du jour before fessing their days would soon be numbered. (Leaving everyone only farmed sea basses.)

Troubled waters
During our life time fish will become more valuable and less numerous. Fact. What to do? Some say enjoy it while it lasts. Others say stop eating them. Perhaps we should photograph some to show future grand children what they looked like.

Perhaps be a friend of the earth. Or buy Finding Nemo. Or, gain the most kudos, become a fish. Okay a little implausible, but the fish would like you.

P.S. To read someone more sensible who is respectfully helping and cataloguing issues of India and South Africa follow Jazz travels. Say hi from Gussly.

Gone west (without flip flops)

It seems insincere to say I have been incommunicado so I shan't. Instead I should like to clear up any concern I might still be in Bangkok Airport; I have in fact returned to the land of packet sandwiches and expensive transport: Ingerland.

Here - the spiritual home of humour and middling national sport teams - I have swapped people who are deft, courteous and clean for people who blow their noses on their sleeves and carry their own umbrellas.

It is still full of thoroughly good people though. And brilliantly despite James Blunt being British I hear his music far less over here - this has significantly aided my return to mental health. It's good to be back.

In other quite old news there remain many fearful things in the world. Although the most fearful - dropping biscuit in hot drink - is still with us, one has finally made his exit: Donald Rumsfeld is gone. Hallelujah! I wonder what the cuddly maniac will do now?

I'd like to see him on my Father's*, who recently gave up smoking after 40 years, new favourite show: Strictly Come Dancing.

Any volunteers to rhumba with Rummy?

* His favourite pop song is still Chesney Hawkes - I am the one and only. Worrying times.

Gussly the Pooh

Rational thought is a curious thing. In a bar if a man is listening to an attractive woman opposite is he thinking rationally? Or is he thinking about far more exciting, what Borat might call 'sexy time', extra curricular activities?

Broadly - being rational is being adult. Which is boring. Indisputably.

It would be nice if it were possible to take leave of adult world like a soldier takes leave of the army. Many of us attempt it by going on holiday or to a health spa or to a red light district or by taking drugs or by becoming a temporary kid, a Kidult; but the real adult world with it's various rational parts is always there chugging away. Some of the time at least we must all take part in it. Which in many respects, although not fun, is fundamentally good.

Millions of people, past and present, have worked hard or died to provide the environment we live in; one in which we have time to think irrationally and excitingly. And one in which there are health centres with district nurses who appear normal even when handed unsavoury medical samples.

Glamourously, over the last two days Gussly has had to perform a series of hideous processes to fill a small tub with pooh. Not dog pooh, but my pooh. A completely strange task. I imagine providing a sample of the brown is not something that people particularly look forward to in life. Not like, say, a white Christmas or their wedding day. Nevertheless it definitely goes on.

So next time you find yourself bored at thinking about train times or buying washing detergent remember there is probably someone somewhere in the world who has just spent time preparing, storing and delivering their own pooh to a stranger in scrubs.

They will have 'dropped off the kids at the pool' then gone fishing in the pool to retrieve one of the them. Once in a transparent jar the brown medical sample would then have been transported out of their bathroom, out of their house, to a car, to a waiting room. Throughout the journey every time that person put their hand in their pocket it was there. Every time the person walked past someone they knew they were carrying concealed pooh in public as they did so.

Irrationally or rationally it is completely hideous and gross.

Shiny and new hub

NEW SUVARNABHUMI Airport is causing quite a stir in Bangkok. Everyone thinks it's open too early; no one knows where to go; some people fear the luggage might go walkies. Some of it does.

Also it is big, white, cold, and serves sushi from high stooled little bars selling Champagne.

I don't know what all the fuss is about. It seems like any other airport to me.

Later alligator

Middle watery Thailand

One's fortune is another's disaster. October has been a good month for the Siamese Crocodiles of the farms of Ayutthaya. The rains that have brought flooding and super high Chao Phraya river levels in Bangkok have allowed 30 of our freshwater friends to slide to murky freedom.

So far 6 have turned up. (And been killed.)

Meanwhile the flooding continues to inundate buildings near rivers. Including peoples houses. Mothers are worried there may be a crocodile invasion; there may be trouble ahead.

This snappy topic has allowed me to clear up an issue with a waitress and friend called Mua. Now when I say 'see you later alligator', and she says 'after a while crocodile' she actually knows what is a crocodile. (Not to mention how good at sketching I am.)

There is nothing so bad that no good comes of it. If anyone else requires English tuition I am available for € 8 per word.

Go-Go girls and Thai Thais (less so)

'No Thais allowed' is prominently displayed (and I'm told enforced) in the Guest House which nicely houses me. Surprised? Don't be.

It is to save the establishment hassle from the authorities who might have something to say about a less clear policy leaving the potential for working girls to be working in one of the rooms. (Some holidaying fellas come lookin' for love, when they come to Thailand.)

Girls A Go-Go
In Bangkok, Patpong, one adult entertainment street, sports 5000 Thai girls nightly embracing and revolving around poles in 80 musically supportive bars. It has earned the district world fame.

Less well known, those wriggling ladies and ladyboys, varying boy to girl in betweens, are now able to apply for a new 60 hour training course to be provided by an equally less known NGO, Empower Foundation.

The mainly classical dance training is hoped will reduce the number of injuries incurred by the girls while they are gyrating. Empower Foundation also provides some language education to the girls, who often move to the Kok from the provinces of Thailand. (The Bangkok Post has the full story, temporarily.)

Trouble down south
Relatively, Thailand is one of the most unified nations, though it is far from homogeneous. Unsurprisingly, peoples from different parts of the country, some who speak different languages, and/or are not Buddhist, have different career options available to them.

Thai Thais, by which I mean the Buddhist, King adoring, Tai ethnic groupers, are relatively well-off folk and the most friendly people in the world; conversations usually start with mutual smiles.

Except when they regard people who aren't those things (and aren't tourists or businessmen). Three provinces close to Malaysia in southern Thailand are largely Muslim. They have few sympathisers among Thais who don't regard them as part of their life.

Again not surprising. But fascinating. To me at least. More in a near future entry (so up on your screen)...

Monarch Mondays, 2006

Not being a lover of routines, the thought of wearing a predetermined shirt each week on the same day is to me as appealing as drinking pebble dash cement.

But then I do not 'Love my King', unlike 50 million+ Thais* who very much do, 'always and forever'. The love perhaps jumps a little higher when they don their yellow King tribute shirts every Monday. This popular trend is special this year particularly because his majesty's 60th anniversary of being King, is being celebrated.

To say the King, Bhumibol, is popular is an incomprehensibly large understatement. Support is fanatical in parts.

His portrait is everywhere; he is dedicated a song in cinemas to a standing audience before each movie, during which his various benevolent acts are pictured; the national anthem is played daily at 6pm; and, he's in the papers every day.

When the last PM was recently 'moved aside' the nation paused for a day. The next morning everyone returned to normal; the drama was over for normal Thais. So what happened?

The King said nothing is what. And that was what everyone was waiting (and hoping) for. People were not taking time to chew the cud, they were waiting to see if the King spoke, if he had an objection. His silence confirmed he didn't*2 and so all was well.

What a guy. Feel the love.

* See definition in 'PARAGON PROBE'.

*2 Many believe the coup would never have happened without his prior counsel. This, though, is not confirmed.

PARAGON PROBE...

A SHALLOW GUSSLY CONCERNS HIMSELF WITH COOL. (MEANWHILE COOL IS BUSY.)

Can it be gained by surrounding a non-cool article around cool things? If yes, I want my life to stop now.

I want my coolometer to be judged on the hour I am spending right here right now.

To explain...

First, my cinema computer*. Actually I can't see a computer, only a screen, which I have 3 metres away from me because it is so humongous.

Cleverly, this is possible because my armchair is shaped to allow a roller table, on which a wireless keyboard and mouse rest, to slide right up to my belly button. (There's also space for a mug of mochachocadingochino.)

The screen is awesome. By that I mean big.

With all the others (screens) at varying heights the place feels like a newsroom. I imagine. (Actually I haven't the foggiest. Though, I have seen the 'Clark and Lois' series - this place is a dead ringer for the Daily Planet's 'newsroom'.)

Second, music. Currently Bella Fitzgerald.

Third, and most cool of all, a 10 metre wide cinema screen hangs from the ceiling. Highlights from the shark pool, are beamed up from Ocean World in the basement 6 floors downstairs. I like the tigers (sharks) best.

Where am I? True Urbanpark, in Siam Paragon.

If I haven't convinced you, perhaps outside, which is still inside, the 2nd floor would. That's car world. Currently in stock: a Porsche 911; a Ferrari F430; Lamborghini Murcielagos (2). There's also a 16 screen cinema on the top floor with the disco bowling alley next door.

Have I reached cool? Not likely. But I have enjoyed being around it. To be (vainly) continued...

* Conversation preceeding my seating at cinema computer.

Me: (to two, typically attractive Thai girls) Sawadee khrap (hello).

Girls: Sawadee kha (hello back).

Me: Internet please.

Girl #1: Oh Kay. Please wait a momenn.

She laughs - this often happens to me - and goes to a till.

Girl #1: Sit down. Now. Just a momenn. Forty baht please.

Me: Ah. There you are. (I'm not cool yet.)

Girl #1: Oh Kay. That pays for the internet, now what about me? (Cue teeth and cheek to cheek smile.)

Martial Law but no Mr. T...

In the Land of Smiles

Guess what I've woken up with every morning for 6 weeks?

It's only a hangover - one I achieve without drinking anything alcoholic.

Tired of this unrelenting daily annoying sickthummy, and fed up of my no-booze cruise, last night I had me a little experiment: ten bottles of Heineken.

So I have hangover (again). But at least I feel I deserve it this time. (I shall be learning the name of my doctor when I get back to the UK.)

---

Next, the UK's hottest Thai celebrity resident: Thaksin Shinawatra.

He's the most hated man in Thailand, which is now controlled by the army; with the support of people and their King, who in his 60th anniversary year is the world's most popular monarch.

Mr. T began the month with a job, as a twice elected Prime Minister, but has since been popularly fired and forced to bunk up with his daughter at University in London.

Thailand's new PM, Army General Surayud Chulanont, said deflated Thaksin is 'entitled to return, but only at the right time'. Which from Thai to English approximates to not soon.

Ah well, at least he'll be able to watch the days and minutes go by on some of his 35 gold watches. Time is on his side (well wrist). Even if nothing else is.

And now... Borat. High five!

Following the approach of Donny Rumsfeld and the Neocons, helping everyone stay sane by promoting something ambiguous to believe in, I am joining support for a newer talisman to replace the void the ended Hoff campaign has left.

'He's kind of a genius' thinks Will Ferrell. So do I.

Step up Borat Sagdiyev - the living legend.

Embrace the phenomenon. Interpret the controversy.

Get behind your man. And his new film. JAGSHEMASH!

Kok Rock

Unknown to 9 out of 10 Kokkers, Thais who reside in the Kok, the Khao San Road, a street in Bangkok, is known to every traveller in the last thousand years who has come to Thailand before they were 30.

The street today gives volunteers dreads; provides authentic Thai interpretations of young westerners' views of Thai food, served in white polystyrene; and three 7Elevens. Surrounding the backpacker Mecca the area also provides cheap beds, hence my repeated involvement with it.

This time, my room is a special one: it has a window. Sunlight shines through my window on to my mattress up to 20 minutes a day. At night I have a front row portal to the nightclub downstairs, which is a real bonus. The West's finest 3 month old pop is chimed out till silly O'clock. Repetition of the same songs is a common strategy to their set.

This does not, however, present a problem for the nearly narcoleptic Gussly. Usually I sleep through the night.