Dear Caroline,

We've never met, so I hope you don't find this letter too presumptuous or inappropriate. As its contents involve the public's business, I am sending this to you via the public on the Internet. I knew your brother John. He was a great guy, and I know he would've had a ball during this thrilling and historic election year. We all miss him dearly.

Barack Obama selected you to head up his search for a vice presidential candidate. It appears we may be just days (hours?) away from learning who that choice will be.

The media is reporting that Senator Obama has narrowed his alternatives to three men: Joe Biden, Evan Bayh and Tim Kaine. They're all decent fellows, but they are far from the core of what the Obama campaign has been about: Change. Real change. Out with the old. And don't invade countries that pose no threat to us.

Senators Biden and Bayh voted for that invasion and that war, the war Barack ran against, the war Barack reminded us was the big difference between him and Senator Clinton because she voted for the war and he spoke out against it while running for Senate (a brave and bold thing to do back in 2002).

For Obama to place either of these senators on the ticket would be a huge blow to the millions that chose him in the primaries over Hillary. He will undercut one of the strongest advantages he has over the Hundred-Year War senator, Mr. McCain. By anointing a VP who did what McCain did in throwing us into this war, Mr. Obama will lose the moral high ground in the debates.

As for Governor Kaine of Virginia, his big problem is, well, Obama's big problem -- who is he? The toughest thing Barack has had to overcome -- and it will continue to be his biggest obstacle -- is that too many of the voters simply don't know him well enough to vote for him. The fact that Obama is new to the scene is both one of his most attractive qualities AND his biggest drawback. Too many Americans, who on the surface seem to like Barack Obama, just don't feel comfortable voting for someone who hasn't been on the national scene very long. It's a comfort level thing, and it may be just what keeps Obama from winning in November ("I'd rather vote for the devil I know than the devil I don't know").

What Obama needs is a vice presidential candidate who is NOT a professional politician, but someone who is well-known and beloved by people across the political spectrum; someone who, like Obama, spoke out against the war; someone who has a good and generous heart, who will be cheered by the rest of the world; someone whom we've known and loved and admired all our lives and who has dedicated her life to public service and to the greater good for all.

That person, Caroline, is you.

I cannot think of a more winning ticket than one that reads: "OBAMA-KENNEDY."

Caroline, I know that nominating yourself is the furthest idea from your mind and not consistent with who you are, but there would be some poetic justice to such an action. Just think, eight years after the last head of a vice presidential search team looked far and wide for a VP -- and then picked himself (a move topped only by his hubris to then lead the country to near ruin while in office) -- along comes Caroline Kennedy to return the favor with far different results, a vice president who helps restore America to its goodness and greatness.

Caroline, you are one of the most beloved and respected women in this country, and you have been so admired throughout your life. You chose a life outside of politics, to work for charities and schools, to write and lecture, to raise a wonderful family. But you did not choose to lead a private life. You have traveled the world and met with its leaders, giving you much experience on the world stage, a stage you have been on since you were a little girl.

The nation has, remarkably (considering our fascination with celebrity), left you alone and let you live your life in peace. (It's like, long ago, we all collectively agreed that, with her father tragically gone, a man who died because he wanted to serve his country, we would look out for her, we would wish for her to be happy and well, and we would have her back. But we would let her be.)

Now, I am breaking this unwritten code and asking you to come forward and help us in our hour of need. So many families are hurting, losing their homes, going bankrupt with health care bills, seeing their public schools in shambles and living with this war without end. This is a historic year for women, from Hillary's candidacy to the numerous women running for the House and Senate. This is the year that a woman should be on the Democratic ticket. This is the year that both names on that ticket should be people OUTSIDE the party machine. This is the year millions of independents and, yes, millions of Republicans are looking for something new and fresh and bold (and you are the Kennedy Republicans would vote for!).

This is the moment, Caroline. Seize it! And Barack, if you're reading this, you probably know that she is far too humble and decent to nominate herself. So step up and surprise us again. Step up and be different than every politician we have witnessed in our lifetime. Keep the passion burning amongst the young people and others who have been energized by your unexpected, unpredicted, against-all-odds candidacy that has ignited and inspired a nation. Do it for all those reasons. Make Caroline Kennedy your VP. "Obama-Kennedy." Wow, does that sound so cool.

Caroline, thanks for letting me intrude on your life. How wonderful it will be to have a vice president who will respect the Constitution, who will support (instead of control) her president, who will never let her staff out a CIA agent, and who will never tell her country that she is "currently residing in an undisclosed location."

Say it one more time: "OBAMA-KENNEDY." A move like that might send a message to the country that the Democrats would actually like to win an election for once.

Yours,
Michael Moore
MMFlint@aol.com
MichaelMoore.com

Click here to join Mike's mailing list.

===
 
Read this newsletter online http://tinyurl.com/dy6yy

On my many travels around the world I have had a lot of time to think.

Perhaps those hours could have been better spent by doodling, playing video games or just chewing gum, drooling or reading People magazine but like the fool I am I chose to think. As a result of all that thinking I have decided to let you in on a secret; There is more to life than death and taxes.

Not much more, but something.

Those things are: Chinese Restaurants and Irish pubs.

Think about it. Have you ever been anywhere that doesn't have one or both of those institutions?

If I were interested in creating a new religion that espoused another mad conspiracy theory (see Mormons, Christians, Muslims, Judaeism, Communism, Burtism, Buddhism and anyone else I may have forgotten to offend) I would develop a theory about how these two nations are in the grasp of the Devil and doing his bidding.

If you are interested I'll get you started with a couple of lines.
Feel free to join in and maybe we could create a new liturgy.
Lets face it. It has to be better than the rubbish that's on offer now.

"Behold the sacred Scroll of Number 47" (fried rice with green chillies)
 
"Brothers, Let us drink from the haloed cup of innebriation.
Touch the cup of death so that we may extend our life and ward off the inevitable" (Guiness)

Just a thought. Maybe you had it too

This was a car wreck between a Saturn and Volkswagen that took place on the Keyes Road overpass just outside Turlock, California.

See the entire set.

This photo was taken June 12, 2007.

I've been quiet about this, since getting shut out for tickets from tenclub and tickets.com. I have 1 ticket to see Eddie Vedder tonight (August 19) at the Riverside in Milwaukee. Someone on the Message Pit had an extra single ticket and I bought it from him. The ticket arrived priority mail yesterday.

It's in Row F, on the floor, in Right Center, seat 11. Which means I'll be 6 rows back and 11 seats over from the center of the stage.

Unfortunately there is a huge photography ban on these shows. You're not even supposed to be allowed to use cell phone cameras. Maybe I'll snap something before the show and post it here. I'm sure I'll have a review, of sorts, for you tomorrow!

This is going to be a long day!

In Manchester, U.K. there's a rather sad little monument. It's a bronze statue of man sitting on a bench eating an apple. That man was Alan Turing. Among other achievements, he is considered the father of modern computer science. He was a mathematical genius who was influential in breaking German codes during World War II. So, why a monument to him eating an apple?

Alan Turing was also homosexual during a time when homosexuality was illegal in Britain. According to Wikipedia, (In 1952) "He was given the choice between imprisonment and probation, conditional on his undergoing hormonal treatment designed to reduce libido. In order to avoid going to jail, he accepted the estrogen hormone injections, which lasted for a year, with side effects including gynecomastia (breast enlargement). His conviction led to a removal of his security clearance and prevented him from continuing consultancy for GCHQ on cryptographic matters."

 "On 8 June 1954, his cleaner found him dead; the previous day, he had died of cyanide poisoning, apparently from a cyanide-laced apple he left half-eaten beside his bed."

So that is why the sad little monument was unveiled in Manchester in 2001. I was reminded of this when reading this article today, headlined below. It only took fifty years to get this far.

A revolution in the boardroom: Why it pays to be gay

Homosexuals are being courted by employers – from spooks to the city

I think we should erect another monument of a man sitting beside Alan Turing on the bench. It would be of a man with two faces, one eye, no brain, and holding a bible. I'd call it "The True Sin".

Vale Alan Turing.  You'll be remembered long after your accusers.

Try not to swallow your tongue when you see this.

If I were the kind of guy to use my illustration and design abilities for evil – say, to cruelly perpetuate heart-stopping rumors – I hope I would do it with this degree of skill and finesse. This is just wicked. Mad props to the Photoshop artist that produced this.

Aaaaaand, who represents the contrived cast of this spurious sequel?

Supposedly:

Johnny Depp as The Riddler
Angelina Jolie as Catwoman
Philip Seymour Hoffman as The Penguin

Hmm. That's quite a talented trio, but there’s quite a bit of talent wrapped up in the three actors who previously played those roles, as well. Jim Carrey, Michelle Pfeiffer and Danny DeVito are all superstars in their own rights. And considering how superior Heath Ledger’s portrayal of the Joker was over that of the great Jack Nicholson, one can’t help but wonder how the performances of Depp, Jolie and Hoffman would compare.

Having thought it over for at least three minutes, I’ve concluded the following:

Johnny Depp definitely has the ability to do with the Riddler what he did with Sweeney Todd – that is, take an already crazy-scary character and make him even crazier-scarier. Unfortunately, he also has it in him to do to the Riddler what he did to Willy Wonka – that is, take a crazy-creepy character and mercilessly pervert him into an androgynous, latex-gloved, closet pedophile. Wait… does the Riddler wear gloves? Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Point is it could go either way.

Chance of Depp outshining Carrey as the Riddler: 50%

Angelina Jolie as Catwoman is not exactly what you’d call a risky casting move. In fact, I sort of wonder who the hell else they would pick for that one. My daughter Amanda mentioned an actress (whose name I can’t recall now) the other night and all I could think was, “It takes more than a pretty face to be Catwoman.” And, see, if Michelle Pfeiffer had that something extra, then Jolie’s got it in spades.

Chance of Jolie outshining Pfeiffer as Catwoman: 98%

Philip Seymour Hoffman is a master thespian. I just want to make that perfectly clear. But, honestly, casting him as Mr. Freeze would be better than casting him as ol’ Cobblepot. The first and most important reason is that he has the same problem Nicholson had, only reversed: he’s too damn tall for his character! Secondly, while he’s certainly round in the right places, he’s simply not pointy enough in others. Finally, wouldn't everyone just see Truman Capote with a monocle and cigarette holder?

Chance of Hoffman outshining DeVito as the Penguin: 2%

Taken from an earlier photo. I converted it to black and white and added film grain.

Photo taken May 10, 2007 in Turlock, California

http://www.alternet.org/democracy/95372/the_plot_against_liberal_america/?page=entire

The Plot Against Liberal America

By Thomas Frank, The New Statesman. Posted August 18, 2008.

The most cherished dream of conservative Washington is that liberalism can somehow be defeated, finally and irreversibly, in the way that armies are beaten and pests are exterminated. Electoral victories by Republicans are just part of the story. The larger vision is of a future in which liberalism is physically barred from the control room -- of an "end of history" in which taxes and onerous regulation will never be allowed to threaten the fortunes private individuals make for themselves. This is the longing behind the former White House aide Karl Rove's talk of "permanent majority" and, 20 years previously, disgraced lobbyist Jack Abramoff's declaration to the Republican convention that it's "the job of all revolutions to make permanent their gains."

When I first moved to contemplate this peculiar utopian vision, I was struck by its apparent futility. What I did not understand was that beating liberal ideas was not the goal. The Washington conservatives aim to make liberalism irrelevant not by debating, but by erasing it. Building a majority coalition has always been a part of the program, and conservatives have enjoyed remarkable success at it for more than 30 years. But winning elections was not a bid for permanence by itself. It was only a means.

The end was capturing the state, and using it to destroy liberalism as a practical alternative. The pattern was set by Margaret Thatcher, who used state power of the heaviest-handed sort to implant permanently the anti-state ideology.

"Economics are the method; the object is to change the soul," she said, echoing Stalin. In the 34 years before she became prime minister, Britain rode a see-saw of nationalization, privatization and renationalization; Thatcher set out to end the game for good. Her plan for privatising council housing was designed not only to enthrone the market, but to encourage an ownership mentality and "change the soul" of an entire class of voters. When she sold off nationally owned industries, she took steps to ensure that workers received shares at below-market rates, leading hopefully to the same soul transformation. Her brutal suppression of the miners' strike in 1984 showed what now awaited those who resisted the new order. As a Business Week reporter summarized it in 1987: "She sees her mission as nothing less than eradicating Labour Party socialism as a political alternative."

In their own pursuit of the free-market utopia, America's right-wingers did not have as far to travel as their British cousins, and they have never needed to use their state power so ruthlessly. But the pattern is the same: scatter the left's constituencies, hack open the liberal state and reward friendly businesses with the loot.

Grover Norquist, one of the most influential conservatives in Washington and the "field marshal of the Bush plan," according to the Nation magazine, has been most blunt about using the power of the state "to crush the structures of the left." He has outlined the plan countless times in countless venues: the liberal movement is supported by a number of "pillars," each of which can be toppled by conservatives when in power. Among Norquist's suggestions has been the undermining of defense lawyers -- who in the US give millions of dollars to liberal causes -- with measures "potentially costing [them] billions of dollars of lost income." Conservatives could also "crush labour unions as a political entity" by forcing unions to get annual written approval from every member before spending union funds on political activities. His coup de grace is that the Democratic Party in its entirety would become "a dead man walking" with the privatization of social security.

Much of this program has already been accomplished, if not on the precise terms Norquist suggested. The shimmering dream of privatizing social security, though, remains the great unreachable right-wing prize, and the right persists in the campaign, regardless of the measure's unpopularity or the number of political careers it costs. President Bush announced privatisation to be his top priority on the day after his re-election in 2004, although he had not emphasized this issue during the campaign. He proceeded to chase it deep into the land of political unpopularity, a region from which he never really returned.

He did this because the potential rewards of privatizing social security justify any political cost. At one stroke, it would both de-fund the operations of government and utterly reconfigure the way Americans interact with the state. It would be irreversible, too; the "transition costs" in any scheme to convert social security are so vast that no country can consider incurring them twice. Once the deal has been done and the trillions of dollars that pass through social security have been diverted from the US Treasury to stocks in private companies, the effects would be locked in for good. First, there would be an immediate flood of money into Wall Street; second, there would be an equivalent flow of money out of government accounts, immediately propelling the federal deficit up into the stratosphere and de-funding a huge part of the federal activity.

Business elites

The overall effect for the nation's politics would be to elevate for ever the rationale of the financial markets over such vague liberalisms as "the common good" and "the public interest." The practical results of such a titanic redirection of the state are easy to predict, given the persistent political demands of Wall Street: low wage growth, even weaker labour organisations, a free hand for management in downsizing, in polluting, and so on.

The longing for permanent victory over liberalism is not unique to the west. In country after country, business elites have come up with ingenious ways to limit the public's political choices. One of the most effective of these has been massive public debt. Naomi Klein has pointed out, in case after case, that the burden of debt has forced democratic countries to accept a laissez-faire system that they find deeply distasteful. Regardless of who borrowed the money, these debts must be repaid -- and repaying them, in turn, means that a nation must agree to restructure its economy the way bankers bid: by deregulating, privatizing and cutting spending.

Republicans have ridden to power again and again promising balanced budgets -- government debt was "mortgaging our future," Ronald Reagan admonished in his inaugural address -- but once in office they proceed, with a combination of tax cuts and spending increases, to inflate the federal deficit to levels far beyond those reached by their supposedly open-handed liberal rivals. The formal justification is one of the all-time great hoaxes. By cutting taxes, it is said, you will unleash such economic growth that federal revenues will actually increase, so all the additional government spending will be paid for.

Even the theory's proponents don't really believe it. David Stockman, the libertarian budget director of the first Reagan administration, did the maths in 1980 and realised it would not rescue the government; it would wreck the government. This is the point where most people would walk away. Instead, Stockman decided it had medicinal value. He realized that with their government brought to the brink of fiscal collapse, the liberals would either have to acquiesce in the reconfiguration of the state or else see the country destroyed. Stockman was candid about this: the left would "have to dismantle [the government's] bloated, wasteful, and unjust spending enterprises -- or risk national ruin."

This is government-by-sabotage: deficits were a way to smash a liberal state. The Reagan deficits did precisely this. When Reagan took over in 1981, he inherited an annual deficit of $59bn and a national debt of $914bn; by the time he and his successor George Bush had finished their work, they had quintupled the deficit and pumped the debt up to more than $3trn. Bill Clinton called the deficit "Stockman's Revenge" -- and it dominated all other topics within his administration's economic teams. With the chairman of the Federal Reserve Alan Greenspan himself speaking of "financial catastrophe" unless steps were taken to control Reagan's deficit, Clinton was soon a convert. He got tough with the federal workforce.

So-called virtues

George W Bush proceeded to plunge the budget into deficit again. Indeed, after seeing how the Reagan deficit had forced Clinton's hand, it would have been foolish for a conservative not to spend his way back into the hole as rapidly as possible. "It's perfectly fine for them to waste money," says Robert Reich, a former labour secretary to Bill Clinton, summarizing the conservative viewpoint. "If the public thinks government is wasteful, that's fine. That reduces public faith in government, which is precisely what the Republicans want."

In 1964, the political theorist James Burnham diagnosed liberalism as "the ideology of western suicide." What Burnham meant by this was that liberalism's so-called virtues -- its openness and its insistence on equal rights for everyone -- made it vulnerable to any party that refuses to play by the rules. The "suicide" that all of this was meant to describe was liberalism's inevitable destruction at the hands of communism, a movement in whose ranks Burnham had once marched himself. But his theory seems more accurately to describe the stratagems of its fans on the American right. And the correct term for the disasters that have disabled the liberal state is not suicide, but vandalism. Loot the Treasury, dynamite the dam, take a crowbar to the monument and throw a wrench into the gears. Slam the locomotive into reverse, toss something heavy on the throttle, and jump for it.

Mainstream American political commentary customarily assumes that the two political parties do whatever they do as mirror images of each other; that if one is guilty of some misstep, the other is equally culpable. But there is no symmetry. Liberalism, as we know it, arose out of a compromise between left-wing social movements and business interests. It depends on the efficient functioning of certain organs of the state; it does not call for all-out war on private industry.

Conservatism, on the other hand, speaks not of compromise, but of removing its adversaries from the field altogether. While no one dreams of sawing off those branches of the state that protect conservatism's constituents -- the military, the police, legal privileges granted to corporations -- conservatives openly fantasize about doing away with the bits of "big government" that serve liberal ends. While de-funding the left is the north star of the conservative project, there is no comparable campaign to "de-fund the right"; indeed, it would be difficult to imagine one.

"Over the past 30 years, American politics has become more money-centered at exactly the same time that American society has grown more unequal," the political scientists Jacob Hacker and Paul Pierson have written. The resources and organizational heft of the well-off and hyper-conservative have exploded. But the organizational resources of middle-income Americans ... have atrophied. The resulting inequality has greatly benefited the Republican Party while drawing it closer to its most affluent and extreme supporters."

In this sense, conservative Washington is a botch that keeps on working, constructing an imbalance that will tilt our politics rightward for years, a plutocracy that will stand, regardless of who wins the next few elections. And as American inequality widens, the clout of money will only grow more powerful.

As I write this, the lobbyist-fuelled conservative boom of the past ten years is being supplanted by a distinct conservative bust: like the real-estate speculators who are dumping properties all over the country, conservative senators and representatives are heading for the revolving door in record numbers.

Plutocracy

The Democrats who have taken their place are an improvement, certainly, but for the party's more entrepreneurial leaders electoral success in 2006 was merely an opportunity to accelerate their own courtship of Washington's lobbyists, think-tanks and pressure groups staked out on K Street. Democratic leaders have proved themselves the Republicans' equals in circumvention of campaign finance laws.

Throwing the rascals out is no longer enough. The problem is structural; it is inscribed on the map; it glows from the illuminated logos on the contractors' office buildings; it is built into the systems of governance themselves. A friend of mine summarized this concisely as we were lunching in one of those restaurants where the suits and the soldiers get together. Sweeping his hand so as to take in our fellow diners and all the contractors' offices beyond, he said, "So you think all of this is just going to go away if Obama gets in?" This whole economy, all these profits?

He's right, of course; maybe even righter than he realized. It would be nice if electing Democrats was all that was required to resuscitate the America that the right flattened, but it will take far more than that. A century ago, an epidemic of public theft persisted, despite a long string of reformers in the White House, Republicans and Democrats, each promising to clean the place up. Nothing worked, and for this simple reason: democracy cannot work when wealth is distributed as lopsidedly as theirs was-and as ours is. The inevitable consequence of plutocracy, then and now, is bought government.

See more stories tagged with: the wrecking crew

Thomas Frank is the author of "The Wrecking Crew."

Pity me. Reach into your soul and dredge up the best of your sympathy. I have a hangover!

This is no ordinary head thumper. I am not suffering from some self-induced malaise this time. For once I have the  excuse of being able to blame almost all my friends for my current state of dehydration. You see it really was nothing to do with me. Unless you consider the fact that this weekend was my stag do.

I suppose, in a small way, I am responsible for instigating the entire debauched lunacy by asking the nearly Mrs B to marry me but I maintain that the resultant war wounds are not my fault. In fact I would go so far as to blame Meneer Heineken and his cohorts. If he hadn't made the brew I wouldn't have been forced to drink it now, would I?

But you don't want to know about that do you?

You want the dirt. The sleeze and the sorrow. You want to know what happened and who did what to whom. You want to know how many people were arrested and what costume I was forced to wear whilst dancing on stage at the Foile Berger don't you? Well I am not telling.

So there.

What goes on tour stays on tour.

Well nearly. There is one thing I think you should know about this weekend of drunken revelry. You can sum it up like this.

Paris is an extortionate rip off but utterly utterly lovely.

Oh, go on then. Just one or two snippets. Just to prove that I am still the man I was when I left.

Actually that's not true. I am in fact a better man. (Despite the fact that my brain is now the size of a Water shrews gonads).

Mrs Nearly B and I have been together for 13 years so far and in all that time she has never doubted my fidelity. In fact she has proved to be an amazing woman. Even when I brought an entire troop of naked dancers into the living room and let them rub jam into my arm pits and then let them lick the fragrant goop off again she has never doubted that she is the one for me. She didn't bat an eyelid as I frolicked in a whirlpool bath with ten nubile playboy bunnies and she wasn't even phased by the sudden appearance of Lindsey Lohan, Jennifer Saunders and a small ferret called Ralph in our bed one night. Because folks, she trust me.

Yes she does.

Completely.

She trust me because she knows that I am totally and utterly crap at  playing away. She knows that by the time I had realised that the opportunity to indulge in some nudey prod games had arisen I would probably have already drunk myself into a stupor, eaten too much and fallen asleep or talked so much the object of passion had left and gone to sleep it off under a flyover somewhere where the drone of traffic was more soothing than my monotone drawl.

So when the weekend of my Bucks party hove into view she knew that there was no way I would be coming home with hickeys and a nice collection of STD's. And as ever, she was right.

The event was organised with military precision.
London - Paris - London.  Hospital. Home. Wedding. Divorce court. Penury. Gambling habit. Death and a small headstone. Got it?

On day 2 of the blast we were in Paris. The sun was setting and we had been touring the sights of the city. We had seen an Irish pub, a Belgian pub, three or four French Bistro bars and probably some others that I have forgotten by now. The crew was still together and we had ended up sitting in a bar in the Pigale region of the city. For those of you who are not as cosmopolitan as I am (CUE SMUG GRIN... AKA RICTUS) this is the red light area.

We had established ourselves in a bar where the manager was delighted to have suddenly acquired the alcoholic equivalent of  a gushing oil well. With beer at E10 each and six of us drinking about 4 an hour he was suddenly watching his profits rise as fast a sailors dick on shore leave. And so when we made ready to leave he used every trick in his book to get us to stay. In other words he gave us free beer and a discount off further rounds. It worked and so we remained there for ... forever I think but I am hazy on the exact times.

When the beer was drunk and the party was in full flow we inevitably decided to visit a strip club. It is traditional after all. So the gang of stout yeomen staggered up and away and blew kisses to invisible friends in the bar. Fortune favours the inebriated and as luck would have it there was a strip joint right next door! Would you believe it?

In we all trooped, having first negotiated an amazing discount of about 40 centimes on the entry price. We are the toughest of the tough!

Inside it was like a ... well I am not sure but it was bloody horrible. Dark, Dank and tiny. There was one light bulb and a dance floor about as big as a tablecloth. The walls were all made from artex and painted oxblood red. In short it was as sleazy as sleaze itself. Proper job.

There was a pole in the middle of the room. There was no one spinning on it. One of our party - a distinguished doctor would you believe - decided to have a go. Up he got, grabbed the pole and swung around. It was then that we heard the screams! The manager came rushing into the room and grabbed the pole.

"NO TOUCH NO TOUCH!"

I had heard of no touch the girls but no touch the pole? Surely that was the point of the place?

Be that as it may, the pole wasn't actually fixed to the ceiling. Brilliant!!!! A pole dancing club with no pole. I was already feeling at home.

Then the dancers came in. There were two of them. One was called Claud the other Bernard. They had a little hop and sat in the corner opposite us and waited. So did we.

When the girls finally came in they were amazing. Not because they were stunning looking or exotically dressed but because one of the them was the size of Sly Stallone and wearing dungarees and the other one was wearing a woolly jumper.

The cheers went up! At last!! Woman flesh!!
Except there wasn't any.

They refused to do anything at all.

Not so much as a nipple.

We had found the only lap dancing club in the entire universe where no one but the customers danced and there was no nudity!!!

We had spent E100 for six beers and a piss.

Excellent value all around in Parisien terms.

My sort of place.
My sort of story.
My sort of Stag.

I will be running for Pope in 2010. Please vote for me