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MILLIONS, I know, have been waiting for my latest post.
Sorry about the delay. Been busy launching the new site but have finally got the damn thing out. Yes, I know there are some mistakes and we’re working to fix them.
Much has been through my head since my last scribbling. I’ve been wondering which of many subjects to waffle about – how the wife’s iPhone broke when she dropped it onto grass; football, inevtiably; new Google Labs stuff. But what have I settled on to mark my entrance into 2009?
Rubber johnnies. Condoms. Sheaths.
I’ve been in Denmark for nearly three years now and it occurred to me the other day that I have not seen a single discarded johnny on the streets. They seemed to be everywhere back in Croydon, withered and dying, tossed (boom-tisch!) in kerbs, phone boxes or in parks.
Such a disgraceful way to dispose of one of life’s semi-necessities. Just another form of litter.
Danes, it would seem, don’t just chuck their used rubbers into or onto the nearest convenience. I can only guess they bin them somewhere more discreet.
But then, they are a clean people. Swimming pool changing rooms display large posters instructing where exactly you need to wash yourself both before and after you’ve stroked a few lengths (boom-tisch-tisch!). Do it or die. I’ve never been anywhere where so many men honk of not aftershave but sickly body sprays. You go to a work meeting and choke when some fella walks in smelling worse than a 13-year-old boy who thinks Lynx is the key to success with the ladies.
The message is clear: “We are clean.”
I myself, am not. Not to their level. I shower daily (though sometimes not at weekends, to be honest – mostly if we’re having company), I brush my teeth and get a haircut every 10 or 12 weeks. True, I follow the warning posters in the swimming baths, mostly out of the fear of being lynched by sudds-up naked men should I ignore their fearsome commands. And they provide good scrubbing equipment – even for kids: special shower attachments, plastic tubs in a variety of sizes, hot water – they’ve got the lot.
So why do people in England through spent condoms away in the street? I think it’s an English humour thing. I think the tossers (boom-tisch-tisch-tisch!) snigger inside at the thought of someone finding their mess and being repulsed by it. And a part of me finds that funny and repulsive in equal measure.
Danes often say to me, “We have the same sense of humour as you English,” (usually followed by, “I love Blackadder“). Maybe I’ll put that claim to the test.
I’m sure I’ve still got some Mates that could help me.