At their request, the names of the people in this story have been changed. Fair do’s, really. I mean, you can definitely figure out who is who if you read even one other article from my time in Berlin, but whatever. Actually, I think I’ll change my name too, for this one. So, yeah, the guy in this story isn’t me. It’s, er, Raoul. Continue reading
berlin
The Berlin Diaries – Liquidrom and The Spring Loaded Dildos
Now that is a good title. Sounds like a band name, right?!
Okay, play this while you read the opening paragraph for ambiance:
Hello! And welcome to another funky edition of…
The Berlin Diaries – Kev, The Furious Poet
Editor’s Note:
Dear Reader,
It seems our sole writer and contributor, Dan, wrote the first four paragraphs of this diary entry after a very long day, and was a little frustrated at the time. If you wish to skip straight to the main narrative, which is considerably more jolly, scroll down past the opening 373 words of pure bile. Don’t feel bad. He’ll never know.
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The Berlin Diaries – Thanksgiving
I’m English, which means I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving and don’t really know what it’s about. Hang on. Let’s educate ourselves. Right, you wait here, and I’m going to trek to the mystical land of Wikipedia in search of answers. If I’m not back in three paragraphs, assume I’ve failed my quest, give me an honorary funeral (Viking style, please), and move on with your life. Promise me, if I fail, you will try to learn to love again. Promise me you will find another blog filled with stupid drunken travelling stories. You promise? Okay. Here goes.
The Berlin Diaries – NIGHTTIME ACTIVITY REPORT
Good day everyone, today’s diary entry comes in the form of a militarised report, for absolutely no reason at all other than I thought it would be a bit different, and this is my site and my word is LAW.
The Berlin Diaries – HOLY SHIT
KEEP READING TO THE END OH MY GOD
Thursday came, which meant it was time for another Berlin Spoken Word. I met my ol’ pal Michelle beforehand in a bright, artsy café in the depths of Neukölln for our weekly catch up. Harry came too, and we chatted about their adventures at Pornceptual the previous weekend. It’s funny. They’ve been here for maybe 14 months now, and nothing fazes them. When I asked how the night was, they simply said the music was crap. No mention of the fetishwear and group sex taking place all over the club. Continue reading
The Berlin Diaries – Prostitutes and Orangutans
A week ago today I went to the zoo with my fellow fresh Berliner Victoria. Dave, the stoned Ron to our skint Harry and Hermione, was supposed to join us at 1pm. However, he didn’t show, mostly for financial reasons. It is rather hard to make plans with Dave, as his phone barely works and when it does he rarely troubles to answer it. This is the case with pretty much everyone in this city, except me, Mr Everkeen, Mr Instanttextback. I get bored easily, okay?
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – When The Devil Drives
I wrote an article for Unilad a while back, which you can read here, if you fancy. It’s an abridged version of the account of the virtual reality orgy thing I went to a month ago. I was paid £120 for writing the article, however I was told it could take up to 30 days for the money to go into my bank. This wouldn’t usually be too big an issue, except that for the past fortnight I’d been living off around €20.
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – Death or Glory
Okay, okay. ‘Death or Glory’ is a bit self important, as far as titles go. It’s just a cool sounding phrase, alright? I’m sorry. An alternate title could be ‘Owt or Nowt’, which is a joke you either will or will not get, depending on whether you are from Northern England.
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Surely not. Surely not. It’s too soon to say but… my god, it looks as though everything might actually… work out okay?!
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – All The Usual Debauchery
I’m skint as fuck, man. It’s the 20th of November today, and for the past two weeks I’ve lived off about 40 euros. I have 15 left to last until the 13th of December, or when I get paid for some freelance work a while back. Whichever comes first. Being skint is very, very boring. I’ve already paid my rent and I’ve bought enough food to last a couple of weeks, so I won’t die, but christ, there’s bugger all to do. If you want to interact with the world around you, you need money. If I want to see my friends, I can walk 5 miles across the city or pay for the U Bahn. Choices, choices.
Continue reading