My last day in España. Nothing has happened since my last post, unless sweating counts, in which case I´ve done a hell of a lot.
It is currently 39°C (102°F), and I´ve just returned from shopping at El Corte Ingles, a huge department store where the overhead recorded announcements are delivered in English by a professional voice over artiste, somewhat disconcerting for a shmancy store in what is a foreign country. But the good news is that I now own a new jacket, several tins of olives, and some chorizo sausage.
And tonight is the final night of my holiday. Nothing Man is of the opinion that we should buy some viagra to counteract any problems that may arise (or not, so to speak), but I can´t help feeling how wishful his thinking is.
Case in point: I´d brought along a pack of condoms for this trip. I may as well have brought tampons just in case I started menstruating.
I have 15 more hours left until I wake up and leave for grey skies, rain, work, and responsibility. And in those 15 hours, the Last Hoorah; Tapas, Spanish bars, then those godforsaken British discos. And I ABSOLUTELY MUST GET MY ROCKS OFF.
So please, visit your mosques and your synagogues. Approach your Vicars and Priests, your Gurus and your Chief Druids. Tell them that I sincerely, undeniably, unquestionably need to have hot, dirty, semi-anonymous sex with a virtual stranger I´ve met in a down-market club on the Costa Del Sol. This is vital to the good of mankind.
Affording me the chance to give or receive oral sex will have Israelis shaking hands with Palestinians.
Getting a full-blown shag will ultimately cause global terrorists to reconsider their nefarious ways.
And if my prospective ladypartner is really cute, and really really filthy and excitable and fun and engaging and is grateful to immerse herself in all sorts of depravity with me, the resultant orgasms will create shockwaves of love across the world, and touch all humanity.
Please pray for me tonight. The future of the world is at stake.