<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3200994\x26blogName\x3dDreadful+Nonsense\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://shazzle.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d7615377689624956874', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

We were walking along the street, on our way to meet up with the absolutely brilliant Brewers Berlin Tour (very highly recommended, by the way). We were both feeling a little under the weather, possibly very much due to the amount of Berliner beer we had drunk the night before in our New Favourite Place Ever, a bar which left nibbles on your table free of charge and kept refilling the tasty, salty snacks every 10 seconds. We had been sitting all evening underneath some scaffolding that was decorated in cute little fairylights and watching the trams pass up and down the street, talking about what we would do if one of us dumped the other person (I declared that I would probably move back to Dublin, and He Who Only... announced that he, too, would move to Dublin, if only to spite me).

Hangovers therefore pretty well established, we weren't really concentrating on what was going on around us as we walked up the street, and so I really had to double check if I had actually just seen what I'd actually just seen.

I nudged He Who Only... hard in the ribs and asked:

"Is that man wearing any trousers?"

He Who Only... checked carefully.

"No. No, he isn't."

I thought for a moment, and then asked my follow up question.

"Does he have any underwear on?"

He Who Only... again considered the evidence of his own eyes and verified:

"No. No, he doesn't."

"Right", I said. And we continued.

Brilliantly, about half an hour into our walking tour, just as we had reached Bebelplatz, as we were being told about the book burning that had taken place there (more of which soon!), a shouting erupted from behind us.

A German man was shouting, very loudly and with great emotion, about something or other. He was taking a variety of things out of a plastic bag, holding them up apparently to illustrate his various points, and holding forth for all to hear. What he was on about, I will never know, because (1) he was shouting in German, (2) he was holding up things like a lettuce, and then another lettuce, which made it difficult to concentrate and (3) it was the man from earlier, and he still had no pants on.

Importantly, I took a photo:

Closer details are, thankfully, not clearly visible in this photo. Your eyes have therefore been spared.


Post a Comment