PRAGUE - AN A-CZ GUIDE
I trust you're not expecting an article full of cultural insight, as I was a comrade-in-arms in a nine-man stag party, and as you know any large group of Englishmen refuse to do anything as 'poncey' as partaking in indigenous culture or food. The British tourists' taste for fast food and cheap women has resulted in Prague becoming a strange but quite fetching mix between Trumpton and Whitley Bay. Cultural imperialism at its most perverse, as I'm sure you'll agree.
A is for Alcohol. But, of course. Although strangely not for Absinthe, of which I did not imbibe at all.
B is for Beastie Boys. Flyposters for whom swarmed the city. Cz-Cz-Cz czech-it-out! B is also for broccoli, liberally supplied on many of Prague's pizzas. Not that this is a bad thing. Refusing to indulge in broccoli turns you into George Bush Snr, so let that be a warning to you.
C is for Cows. Prague was full of various cows over the weekend, part of Cow Parade, a public art project in aid of childrens charities. Stockholm and Manchester (the Inspiral Carpets would surely have approved) are also participating, apparently. Best of all was Discow, a silver glitter construction.
D is for Desperados. A lager-based drink laced with Tequila consumed in a mexican bar, several of which went down smoothly enough for a rogueish 5.9%.
E is for 'Ello West 'Am, How Are You? Which is the strangest approach line ever been used on me by a lapdancer. I politely declined, of course.
F is for Finnish Girls. The only girl that approached me in a club who wasn't after my wallet was a stoned young Finnish woman. I didn't get her name. 'I'm not interested in that conversation, I just want you to dance with me' said she-who-must-remain-anonymous. Which was fair enough by me...you've just gotta love those straight-talking scandinavian sexbombs, right? And her hair smelled really nice for someone who a few minutes earlier had been rolling around the beer-soaked dancefloor sixty-nining her best friend.
G is for Garni Nusle. Or Hotel Garni Nusle to be more precise, the garish green garrison that provided a roof over our heads and lager in our gullets 24/7. Followed by...
H is for Hangovers. 'Nuff said.
I is for Irritation. Of the likes my arse felt after using toilet paper that brought back unpleasant memories of my schooldays.
J is for Joke. Which is the only way to describe a pub called Caffreys Bar, using the Caffreys logo outside, that (you guessed it) doesn't sell Caffreys. Irish sense of humour, anybody?
K is for KFC. Full marks for the 'ironic' bronze bust of Colonel Sanders on the wall, and cuter staff than you'd expect back home. Marks lost though, for the zestless Zingers they served. Thank glastnost that K is also for Ketchup. And loads of it.
L is for Lesbians. The magic word that lured us into ever dingey bar in the city.
M is for Midget. You've not lived until you've seen a midget lapdancer shimmying around a dark club in a see-through negligee. And yes, she does get fed up of being asked if she rides for a quarter of the price.
N is for Nuns. See also L for Lesbians. Two girls ditched their habits for a theatrical display of public affection on a nightclub stage, erotic effect slightly dissipated by the fact they were both pissing themselves laughing (which kept the water sports enthusiasts entertained, no doubt). The Finnish girls (see F for Finnish Girls) were much more convincing, but then that's enthusiastic amateurs for you.
O is for Outbursts Of Rain. Although the weather was predominantly hot and sunny, when it rained it meant business. Luckily, Prague has many alcoves in which to shelter if you can't reach a bar in time.
P is for Poborsky. The Man Ure reject is still strangely popular in the Czech Republic it seems, based on the shirts being sold with his name emblazoned upon them.
Q is for Quiet. Maybe it's because it was mid-summer and many Prague citizens traditionally depart for their country cottages, but Prague was by far the quietest capital city I've visited. In the early hours of the morning the streets were deserted compared to, say, London or Madrid. In fact, the busiest places early hours were the fast food restaurants where Q also stood for Queues. Thirty years ago, Eastern European citizens regularly queued for bread. Now they just as patiently queue for zonked-out zingers. That's progress, I guess.
R is for Russian Taxi Drivers. Don't mess with them.
S is for Skodas. Some great old Skoda vehicles on view, although I feel that they are mainly driven 'cos that's all they can afford, rather than some western notion of retro chic.
T is for Towers. Prague has the oldest clock tower in Europe, at least according to some old bloke a little vexed on overhearing one of my comrades giving excited directions over his mobile phone to 'meet by this building with two fuck-off spires'.
U is for Unpleasant. Which is the mildest possible description for the state of the toilets in the trendy Marquis de Sade bar.
V is for Vanquished. Whereas in Britain the down-and-outs will fight and quarrel to their last breath, Prague's unloved have the stooped demeanour of victims resigned to their fate. Some desperately sad sights, I'm afraid.
W is for Watching. Public displays of, um, passion, quite common in Prague, like the couple 'coupling' in the corner of a certain Irish bar (see J is for Joke). Here, no-one tells you to get a room, they just pull up a chair and nod approvingly.
X is for X-Rated. All the stuff I can't post here, natch.
Y is for Y Not? Prague has a chilled, laidback, permissive feel. Which certain British citizens take full advantage of.
Z is for Zzzzzzz Which is what I needed to catch up on after the weekend which left my poor liver squealing for liberation...
I trust you're not expecting an article full of cultural insight, as I was a comrade-in-arms in a nine-man stag party, and as you know any large group of Englishmen refuse to do anything as 'poncey' as partaking in indigenous culture or food. The British tourists' taste for fast food and cheap women has resulted in Prague becoming a strange but quite fetching mix between Trumpton and Whitley Bay. Cultural imperialism at its most perverse, as I'm sure you'll agree.
A is for Alcohol. But, of course. Although strangely not for Absinthe, of which I did not imbibe at all.
B is for Beastie Boys. Flyposters for whom swarmed the city. Cz-Cz-Cz czech-it-out! B is also for broccoli, liberally supplied on many of Prague's pizzas. Not that this is a bad thing. Refusing to indulge in broccoli turns you into George Bush Snr, so let that be a warning to you.
C is for Cows. Prague was full of various cows over the weekend, part of Cow Parade, a public art project in aid of childrens charities. Stockholm and Manchester (the Inspiral Carpets would surely have approved) are also participating, apparently. Best of all was Discow, a silver glitter construction.
D is for Desperados. A lager-based drink laced with Tequila consumed in a mexican bar, several of which went down smoothly enough for a rogueish 5.9%.
E is for 'Ello West 'Am, How Are You? Which is the strangest approach line ever been used on me by a lapdancer. I politely declined, of course.
F is for Finnish Girls. The only girl that approached me in a club who wasn't after my wallet was a stoned young Finnish woman. I didn't get her name. 'I'm not interested in that conversation, I just want you to dance with me' said she-who-must-remain-anonymous. Which was fair enough by me...you've just gotta love those straight-talking scandinavian sexbombs, right? And her hair smelled really nice for someone who a few minutes earlier had been rolling around the beer-soaked dancefloor sixty-nining her best friend.
G is for Garni Nusle. Or Hotel Garni Nusle to be more precise, the garish green garrison that provided a roof over our heads and lager in our gullets 24/7. Followed by...
H is for Hangovers. 'Nuff said.
I is for Irritation. Of the likes my arse felt after using toilet paper that brought back unpleasant memories of my schooldays.
J is for Joke. Which is the only way to describe a pub called Caffreys Bar, using the Caffreys logo outside, that (you guessed it) doesn't sell Caffreys. Irish sense of humour, anybody?
K is for KFC. Full marks for the 'ironic' bronze bust of Colonel Sanders on the wall, and cuter staff than you'd expect back home. Marks lost though, for the zestless Zingers they served. Thank glastnost that K is also for Ketchup. And loads of it.
L is for Lesbians. The magic word that lured us into ever dingey bar in the city.
M is for Midget. You've not lived until you've seen a midget lapdancer shimmying around a dark club in a see-through negligee. And yes, she does get fed up of being asked if she rides for a quarter of the price.
N is for Nuns. See also L for Lesbians. Two girls ditched their habits for a theatrical display of public affection on a nightclub stage, erotic effect slightly dissipated by the fact they were both pissing themselves laughing (which kept the water sports enthusiasts entertained, no doubt). The Finnish girls (see F for Finnish Girls) were much more convincing, but then that's enthusiastic amateurs for you.
O is for Outbursts Of Rain. Although the weather was predominantly hot and sunny, when it rained it meant business. Luckily, Prague has many alcoves in which to shelter if you can't reach a bar in time.
P is for Poborsky. The Man Ure reject is still strangely popular in the Czech Republic it seems, based on the shirts being sold with his name emblazoned upon them.
Q is for Quiet. Maybe it's because it was mid-summer and many Prague citizens traditionally depart for their country cottages, but Prague was by far the quietest capital city I've visited. In the early hours of the morning the streets were deserted compared to, say, London or Madrid. In fact, the busiest places early hours were the fast food restaurants where Q also stood for Queues. Thirty years ago, Eastern European citizens regularly queued for bread. Now they just as patiently queue for zonked-out zingers. That's progress, I guess.
R is for Russian Taxi Drivers. Don't mess with them.
S is for Skodas. Some great old Skoda vehicles on view, although I feel that they are mainly driven 'cos that's all they can afford, rather than some western notion of retro chic.
T is for Towers. Prague has the oldest clock tower in Europe, at least according to some old bloke a little vexed on overhearing one of my comrades giving excited directions over his mobile phone to 'meet by this building with two fuck-off spires'.
U is for Unpleasant. Which is the mildest possible description for the state of the toilets in the trendy Marquis de Sade bar.
V is for Vanquished. Whereas in Britain the down-and-outs will fight and quarrel to their last breath, Prague's unloved have the stooped demeanour of victims resigned to their fate. Some desperately sad sights, I'm afraid.
W is for Watching. Public displays of, um, passion, quite common in Prague, like the couple 'coupling' in the corner of a certain Irish bar (see J is for Joke). Here, no-one tells you to get a room, they just pull up a chair and nod approvingly.
X is for X-Rated. All the stuff I can't post here, natch.
Y is for Y Not? Prague has a chilled, laidback, permissive feel. Which certain British citizens take full advantage of.
Z is for Zzzzzzz Which is what I needed to catch up on after the weekend which left my poor liver squealing for liberation...
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