Skeletor Costume

There are 2 main incarnations of the Skeletor character

Masters of the Universe (1987 film)

Frank Langella donned the Skeletor costume in Masters of the Universe. Skeletor was the primary villain in the 1987 live-action film starring Dolph Lundgren, as this was a motion picture, Skeletor was allowed to be far more menacing and less comical. To prepare for the role, Langella had asked his kids questions about the character and watched the series. During the course of the movie, Skeletor captures Castle Grayskull and imprisons the Sorceress. Later he absorbs the power of the Great Eye and transforms into a golden-armored warrior god, but is ultimately defeated by He-Man.

He-Man and the Masters of the Universe (1983)

In this 1980's cartoon series the Skeletor costume is donned by former pupil of Hordak, leader of the Evil Horde. When Hordak and his Horde invaded Eternia and stormed the palace, Hordak broke in and kidnapped one of the King and Queen's twin babies. Man-At-Arms and the Royal Guard captured Hordak's apprentice, Skeletor, and forced him to divulge the whereabouts of his master, who had retreated to his base of operations, Snake Mountain. When cornered, Hordak opened up a random dimensional portal (later revealed to have led to Etheria) and leaped through with the baby Princess Adora still in his possession. Skeletor remained on Eternia, raised an army of powerful minions of his own and took over as ruler of Snake Mountain. Skeletor's main goal is to conquer the mysterious fortress of Castle Grayskull, from which He-Man draws his powers. If he succeeds, Skeletor would be able to conquer not only Eternia, but the whole universe.

Little Britain Fancy Dress

I've recently made a website promoting Little Britain fancy dress in the UK. I have actually owned the URL LittleBritainFancyDress.co.uk since 2005 but have only had something search engine frendly to offer since March of this year.

For four years it was quite simply one page with an affiliate hyperlink to Jokers Masquerade fancy dress, the company for which I currently work for. Even though there was only one page, I still found it was generating sales although I am unable to track exactly how much.

The website now has in excess of thirty pages and ranks quite well on Google for certain phrases such as Little Britain fancy dress and Little Britain costumes.

My current project is the movie website Find The Film where I have a plethora of links to both Amazon and Jokers Masquerade promoting products like DVD and Blu Ray on Amazon and fancy dress outfits through Jokers. The bulk of my time is spent attempting to generate sales from the movie fancy dress section.

Leaving Las Venturas - A Short Fictional Story

As she entered the office and passed his desk it felt as if with every footstep she was stepping on his stomach, callously treading upon his feelings with oblivious intent. It was at this juncture that he knew it was different. He knew he had let his guard down and let his feelings interfere where they should otherwise lay dormant.

Four weeks earlier the four left on a business trip to Las Venturas, the desert town built on the gambling failures of millions. The fastest growing state in the US saw many a convention bringing in millions of dollars to help bolster the already booming economy.

The convention they were in town for was for the annual Kitchenware show and lasted four days.

Michael adored Anna. Before the trip if you had asked him “name one person you like and trust implicitly at the company” he would have said Anna. In a second. Several times a week he would go out of his way just to enter her office and discuss kitchenware issues that could have been easily solved with a mere phone call. Being friends, close ones in his eyes, warranted more and he went that little further because he cared. He really cared.

At the end of the week after the convention Michael, Bernice and Anna agreed to go and look at some half price tickets at the mall for one of the shows on the Las Venturas strip.

Making a brief detour they entered the restaurant and Anna proclaimed to the waitress “we want to sit outside” “there is only one table and with two seats outside” replied the young American woman. “that’s fine” said Anna. As the two ladies took their seats Michael just stood there, scanned around then shared “you know what, I’m going to go find out how much the tickets are” “pull up another chair” one of them declared. Michael left to find the ticket booth slightly dejected having to tell himself in his head ‘I’m wrong to think that it’s weird they sat at a table with only two seats’ being slightly neurotic and usually feeling unwanted were side effects of his offbeat mannerisms and results of a miserable childhood. Yet, with this seemingly innocent event began his slow decent down the stairs of his biggest vice, it was the first step of his latest bout of depression.

Upon returning to the restaurant one of them had stolen a chair from somewhere. This made him smile for a second. He began “Don’t tell Martin” who was there boss “But I went to a strip club last night. I won so much money at Craps that I had to blow some on something. But don’t tell him because he’ll think that I was pocketing the chips that he gave me.” The previous night Martin, Michael’s generous boss gave him some chips as he was pretty much out of money and when he won money using the aforementioned betting currency he would repay the debt and continue gambling with the winnings. Sharing this story he pointed out that if Martin knew about the strip club he may think that we has pocketing the chips that he kindly shared. This story he shared with the women in confidence. Picking up the bill he paid for their food as a kind gesture to show his affection and waste some more of his winnings. “You don’t have to do that” both Anna and Bernice commented. “no, it’s OK I want to” said Michael and as a throwaway comment he added “as long as you give me hugs and compliments” in his jovial way, not a second passed and Anna shared “no, I’m not like that” with the coldest most impersonal tone, a deadpan voice that she meant as a direct response to an otherwise fun comment. As they left the eatery this comment really bothered Michael, but he couldn’t work out why.

The ladies entered the Mall adjacent to the restaurant and began shopping as Michael followed suit watching as they happily tried clothes on in one shop that had a big soft chair that he just sank into as he waited for them. The dim lighting of the shop embraced him as he sat there listening to the slow sombre music of Neil Young’s Heart of Gold that play throughout the store, he didn’t know it at the time but he was slowing descending further down the stairs of depression. As the minutes passed he really started to hope that they would just leave and not even realise he was still there. He could have sat there for the rest of the day, eyes shut just soaking in the solemn harmony that flood his ears. “Michael, we’re going” Bernice said.

As they entered another shop Michael sat outside feeling miserable, this flood of emotion washing over him suddenly. What was the deal? Bernice exited the shop and sat beside him. “I’m going to go, I feel really down” Michael opened up in a moment of rare weakness. After Anna came of the shop Bernice shared Michael’s sentiment with Anna. “Maybe it’s because you have no friends” said Anna, Michael just looked at her obviously hurt “here I mean, like Joe from work” all three exited the mall.

Outside Michael stood in the shade looking at the two hidden behind two panes of plastic covering his grey, green and blue multicoloured eyes. Bernice took pity and put her arm round him, Anna left walking toward the sun of the north end of the strip and Bernice joined her.

Michael strolled across the sidewalk in the opposite direction feeling empty and alone, his eyes filled with tears shielded only by his sun glasses and a façade unlike his usual cloaked demeanour, here he was showing rare vulnerability. As he climbed each step carrying him toward the bridge, which safely transported him from one side of the bustling road to the other he felt deep sadness, which was strange since this wasn’t brought on by an earth shattering climax nor a pivotal event merely a couple of small nuances.

His eyes welled up as he finally admitted to himself that he really liked Anna, more than he even knew and the coldness of a couple of no doubt oblivious actions on her part hurt so bad. He thought back to times that they shared both in and out of work, social and business. Did he really even know this person that he thought, cared and even dreamt about? He felt such ambivalence toward her.

Michael switched his phone off and made plans to see his boss later that night at MargaritaTown. He entered his hotel room and sat alone.

A few hours passed and Michael met Martin at MargaritaTown. “So I hear you went to a strip club last night” ‘their both out of the loop’ he though to himself, the one thing I asked not to mention, mother fuckers. Michael proceeded to jump down a few more metaphysical depressive steps.

He saw Anna and Bernice again once or twice as the night progressed but didn’t really converse nor acknowledge them. He finds it easier to ignore situations like this rather than face them head on solving and fixing the problem.

The final day Michael didn’t see either of them despite trying to call both, assuming he had a friendly relationship with both why would they make any attempt to extend the proverbial hand of friendship?

The following day at the airport he kept himself to himself stewed in his own misery, why did a short business trip result in a depression that would take weeks to pass?
Michael stopped visiting Anna and not surprisingly she made no attempt to reciprocate the friendship. He felt like every relationship in Michael’s life replicated this one, maybe that’s why it hurt so much.

Placing the headphones over his ears he listened to Smashing Pumpkins ‘That’s The Way My Love Is’ for what felt like the sixteenth time. Glancing over the isle of flight D104 he looked at Anna with despondent eyes wondering why it hurt so much.

He knew he was being petty and even silly toward his former friend. He knew he was wrong, but this was one relationship too many like this for him to handle. Four weeks passed and she hadn’t even spoke to him once, what was her problem?

Then one night, many months later he realised, it was a good thing. You can’t get too close to the people you work with or in his case. Anyone. Ever.

I ♥ NY II

We got into JFK at Midday of Thursday and it took best part of two hours to get into Manhattan, half way there was an underpass with around two feet of water and cars had to drive over the 'sidewalk'. Just as we were going past some twat tried driving right through the middle and broke down.

Thursday afternoon consisted of brief shopping around the Square of the New York Times and a little sleep. We went to see Chicago City Limits improv show at the Broadway Comedy club. A bargain for £7.50.

Friday was the whole reason for the trip. We started off the day at a shitty restaurant called Ruthey's next to the pier and then went and hit some golf balls at Pier 59 Driving Range. I still have the blisters now.

We left the Pier in heavy rain reminiscent of that that you'd get here at the moment. We headed to Queens Mall by the airport and spent a few hours buying jeans and broccoli.

Friday night started with a dinner reservation at Caroline's, which is where the show was. From eating the lasagne I can tell the cows are fucking salty this end of the world either that or the chef was in the middle of killing a big conclave of slugs as he made my dinner.

The show featured Geno Bisconte, Jimmy Florentine and Arthur Steven Lange II. Gino was a funny dude with his racism rant and Jimmy was fantastic.

At about 8.45 Geno came back to the stage and as he thanked Jim and began the introduction of Artie the speakers filled with The Who's Baba O'Reilley. Out walked Artie to a standing ovation.

Artie began the show with 'the windmill' and did some new material about the Iron Sheik, Jeff The Drunk and Chris Rock.

Artie killed, it was amazing seeing him live. After the show we left for the bar and ordered a drink. I noticed a woman standing next to me, I don't remember how she started talking to me but before I knew it we were taking pictures with Geno Bisconte.

"Hey Joe, can I get a picture"I screamed at him
Hopefully he didn't hear or was too drunk to realise that I confused his name with a Joe Matarese, who I saw last time I was in New York.

Geno asked my name and we shook hands like proper grown-ups. Remember this later on :)

Geno told the women (whose names I never found out) were everyone from the show was going who proceeded to tell me and the guy that I was with. We left immediately to The Playwright, which is just round the corner from Caroline's and stumbled in, now very drunk.

As I stood at the bar swaying and swirling like my legs were made from slinkys' all I could see was this large figure leaving the bar in the shadows of the dimly lit bar.

"Arthur Steven Lange, Arthur Steven Lange,"I screamed like some kind of fucking nutter as I sprinted out of the bar nearly knocking three people over.

"Arthur Steven Lange, stay there"I pointed at him like an angry drunk. Maybe not the best way to approach one of your comedy heroes..

"I came from England to see you"
"Fuck off, you did not"Said Art
"No really, I paid like $800 to fly here just to see the show tonight"
"Are you coming tomorrow?"Asked Teddy whose name I couldn't even remember in my ossified state
"No it was sold out, I would have though. I've got $200 tickets to Blue Man but I'd blow that off in a second"
"We could probably get you in"The handsome Teddy mentioned
"Yeah man we'll get you in"Arthur added
"Hey Artie do you want two tickets to Blue Man tomorrow night?"I asked being a funny fucker

Now, I have an excellent memory but this is as correct as I can remember. I'm willing to bet I was an annoying drunk fuck that deserved to be punched in the face. Either way Teddy and Artie took pity on me, after I gave Teddy a business card said he'd put me on the list.

I went back into The Playwright I got pictures with Sal, Jimmy Florentine, one of the guys from Supertwink and a few with teddy. I bought a round of shots and as I handed one to Geno he started chanting my name. Literally shouting at the top of his voice, I was so honoured.

The rest of the night I accosted strangers, took pictures with them and was generally annoying. After the guy I was with left I stayed and talked to some dude with glasses. Again, no name or idea who he was, nice guy though.

The Saturday consisted of down town shopping and a thirty block stroll to Crumbs for an Artie Lange cup cake.

I walked down to Caroline's only to find that teddy had my name on the list. I owe that little chap big time, if I can actually find his myspace I'll thank him sober.

The crowd was insane on the Saturday night. A streamline of drinks made its way to the stage as Artie did the biggest shot I have ever seen. It had to be like four shots that you'd get over here.

Since I was on my own tonight I made friends with the guy that I was sitting opposite from Connecticut. I didn't find out his name (see a pattern here?) We walked of the the bar from the previous evening and he spotted Jim Florentine and he was gone. That was pretty much the last time I saw him. Before I left I went down the stairs to take a piss only to be confronted by 'Angry Black' with a woman pinned against the wall making out with her. That was startling. As I left I gave my friend from Connecticut $6 for the fried shrimp that we shared and walked outside only to see Teddy again.

We talked for a while and I got to meet a few of his friends. He seemed like a really good dude, I owe him big time.

We flew out Sunday and got back early Monday.

To this moment I've barely given a thought to the two empty seats left at Blue Man Group. Bunch of blue fruits, waaaa two patrons didn't turn up to the show waaaa.

The Day of Three Good Deeds: Billy Talent

Wednesday July 12th 2006 was a warm and sunny day outside the joke.co.uk headquarters. The air conditioning was fighting with the warm climate desperately trying to keep the temperature down. The sun was cascading in through the window, man it was a gorgeous day.
At twenty five to six I left Newbury to get back to Kingsclere and then to Gilberts house in an attempt to get to London for the Billy Talent show.

Gilberto drove us to Basingstoke train station and we finally got a direct train around seven.
When we got to Waterloo Gilbert wanted to find a cash point so went descended the escalator next to McDoogles at which point this dude stops and asks Gilbert how to get to Victoria, now, he doesnt know where hes going almost every visit we've made to London so I grabbed his Underground map as Gilberto marched over to McDoogles to buy some food.

Deed 1: I walked over to the Jubilee line barriers with my new friend as I worked out the easiest route he should take and pointed out where he had to go. He thanked me and left to buy a ticket for the underground.

As I walked back to McDoogles Gilbert was eating something that resembled a Fisher Price 'my first toy oven' product. I though he was eating a dog toy or something it looked brutal.
We travelled on the underground to Tottenham Court Road and then walked up the escalators all the way until we were on Oxford Street.

Once inside The Astoria we headed down stairs so that we could use the gentlemens facilities. I tipped the attendant about 80p and left to get a drink at the bar.

I got myself a Jack Daniels with lots of ice and some H20 and then stood next to Gilberto as we watched whatever wanky band was playing. After literally a minute or so we both noticed this woman in front of us leaning against this guy spilling water all over his bag until the point where shes fallen over and thrown the remainder in her own face. Her friend proceeded to help her up and carry her off.

Deed 2: So, I'm standing there just looking around, sipping my water and then something caught my eye when I looked down. I dragged it toward me with my clown sized foot and picked it up. It was the woman that dived face first on the floor's wallet/ purse. I palmed my drinks to Gilbert and ran after the fleeing pair and managed to return it to its owner. On the way back Gilbert hands me her cash card and provisional driving license which was also on the floor. Returning both items they thanked me.

That felt good, I just hope that if that was me someone would have done the same. Although they probably wouldnt as mine would actually have something of value it. Billy Talent came on the stage at around nine and played for an hour. This had to be one of the hottest shows that Ive ever been to. After two songs Gilbert and I headed to the front and jumped around like a pair of retards. After twenty minutes or so we were both soaked with sweat, most of it other peoples. They played Surrender from the new album which I would have enjoyed more had I not been totally annihilated. I was so tired it was unreal and I really wish that I had taken a bottle of water with me, had the show gone any longer I may have collapsed.

After the show just as everyone is turning around and heading for the exit I nearly trip up on something. My first thoughts are that someone has left a bear trap; however, it was merely some clowns belt. A fucking belt, how can you lose a belt if you're wearing it properly?

Deed 3: I start to think that, its most likely that whoever is currently belt-less will come looking for it and since it was one of those clichéd black ones with the rectangular silver metal bits on it the owner is more than likely female. I stood at the front for about three or fours minutes with Gilbert just holding the thing in the air until finally this young girl comes over to me and says:
"Where did you get the belt?" "On the floor" I reply

This is met with the ambivalent look of 'you found my belt' (lets just imagine what that could possibly be) so I hand the belt back and hug my new female friend.

Turning to Gilbert we looked at each other and I can only describe what we saw as what resembled a water fight ten years earlier. We were literally dripping with sweat it was horrible. All I said was "thats three now."

We left for the exit and got the underground back to Waterloo. Once on the train back to Basingstoke Gilbert took his soaked t-shirt off and sat there next the sliding door reading The Daily Sport bare chested.

Once the train started moving a monotone voice made an announcement over the speaker to which, in similar tone I bellowed:

"Please beware of the sweaty naked gentleman reading the paper"

I found it funny, and thats all that matters. Id already done enough to help the world that day.

Sunday, the Day of Jest

I don't really like Sunday's. For me, a typical Sunday seems to consist of nothing but shattered plans, lethargy, self debauchery and an episode of an overpriced American television show on DVD that no-one seems to like apart from me.

This Sunday, friends, was different. This Sunday just gone was Sunday September 10 2006. Chances are I'll only see one Sunday September 10 and if I do and in fact fail to own a Marty McFly Delorean I will be content to say that this Sunday September 10 2006 was actually worth writing about. New paragraph.

My good friend Edward who is a habitual womaniser, abuser and all round anti-feminist 'swung' round to my place as the kids on the streets might say. Once inside his top of the range 1974 Fiat Mustang compact with spoiler and a door we headed toward the great metropolis of Overton that is renowned in the local areas for being a major city-like area. I actually once heard it referred to as English Hollywood, which is a sham because Overton is far more prestigious and 'hip' as the kids say on the streets.

Ah, Overton – the part-time home of our good friend Matthew Lawrence Morley Baker. Matthew greeted us both with a big warm hug and said:
"Its great to see you both again, my friends. I love you." or something vaguely similar. Or opposite.
Matthew was wearing a pair of navy blue trousers, blue shirt and some trendy sneakers. He obviously thought we were going running and in a way I guess we were. But it was at a far greater pace than running. We were sprinting, nay; we were racing on at a cataclysmic pace, we were headed at the speed of light with one destination in mind. The destination of FUN.

We decided to visit the small town of Basingstoke for our day of amusement as a triple threat. I gladly suggested that we should maybe visit the boating lake at Eastrop Park and as usual I knew that my idea would be utilised. I worked that out once we had been in Basingstoke for over an hour at a pub an Matthew politely pointed out to me that:
"I'm not going on no fucking boat."
That joker, I knew that was his way of saying he couldn't wait to feel the rocky water beneath his gay running shoes.
Myself and Edward ordered some overpriced food from the bar shortly after Matthew had said
"are you going to get a drink or not? You're going to be gay and get coffee that's the sort of thing you'd do"

Looking up from my Cappuccino and peering over to the one litre bottle of cider that I had kindly bought Matthew for around the price of £3.95 pounds sterling all he could say was: "I'm not drinking it, you just want me to be fucked so you can laugh at me" "How dare you, that cost me 16 minutes work" I retorted. It was here at this point of the extra fun day that all I could hear was something along the lines of: "YOUR ACTUALLY GAY YOUR ARE" being screamed at an enormous white shirted volume over and over and over by some clown toward the guy behind the bar.

"YOUR ACTUALLY GAY YOUR ARE" this cretin screamed as he left the public drinking establishment
"I think he's talking to you Matthew" A good looking stud said
I imagine Edward was talking about something unimportant again when again we hear
"YOUR ACTUALLY GAY YOUR ARE" he was back!
I look round and all I can see is the drunken dude on the floor with three gorillas' sitting on top of him
"Call the police" one gorilla said
"Matthew go and take a picture of him" I said
"[Insert unfunny comment here]" Edward proclaimed

After my Belgian Waffle and a glass of Matthews pissy cider we left as Matthew searched the streets of Basingstoke so he could purchase cigars or similar smoking paraphernalia. Walking past a charity shop I could see that someone has left a bag of clothes, Bram Stoker's Dracula on VHS and some other tat just sitting there. Strange I thought

Tesco was closed as was Sainsbury so we wandered back the way we had come. Passing the charity shop I can see that someone had nicked the Video. I've not seen Dracula before and I'm looking forward to watching it with my new big bag of Women's clothes. I jest of course.

After trying on our new corsets (again I jest, really) we 'cruised' as the kids, you know. We went on over to KFC so my cohorts could eat some beakless 'chicken'. Well, I'm standing behind Matthew who's wearing his elastic waist gay jogging trousers remember and I'm next to Edward or 'Baby Hefner' I shall call him and I say:
"You know you owe me, like £250"
"Yeah" struggling to remember
"I'll nock off £5 if you pull his trousers down" at this point he was holding a drink thus only leaving one hand free.
Sixty seconds later
"ill nock off forty pounds"
"I cant do it" he winced For a man who grabs women's hands and stuffs them down his tighty whities he certainly has revere for his pals because I would have done it in a second.

Whilst sitting out in the warm Sunday twilight playing with Matthews lighter it somehow lit the bag that his food came in on fire and after stamping on it and putting it out I realised that it actually wasn't extinguished and was melting the side of my shoe.

Once back in the car Matthew told me that I had to leave his friend Fran alone because he was secretly in amour of the broad and that he would leap off the AA building if I was to take her to a highly romantic place such as Mister Munch or Caners Kebabs. I replied to this bold statement
"I love you first and foremost Matthew, if you wish for me to cease contact I will" I said lying
Before taking Matthew back to Las Vegas of Hampshire we stopped at a small pub in Hannington and proceeded to play two games of the popular pastime 'pool'

After winning the first game with great ease I proceeded to almost win the second game before Matthew gave up and Edward had to continue and cheated for the win.
I cant work out why Matthew just gave up its not as if I pulled his trousers down and the barmaid saw his cock and balls and pubic hair for about four seconds.

The rest of the days events are unmemorable and don't deserve to be logged in print.
Still, Matthew forgave me when I gave him a gift and that made us even. He just told me that he cant wait to start watching Bram Stoker's Dracula and give his sister a nice new summer dress with tie front bodice.

I of course jest.

I ♥ NY – A Tale of Water, Transvestism, Caffeine and ‘The Dance’

Okay, so I don't like to keep a regular 'blog' because I think the whole concept of keeping a log of everyday minor events and forcing it onto people and expecting them to read it and find it captivating is a little pretentious. If that's the case then lead me to the room with the Ostentatious sign above the door.

Last Thursday my brother, the best man for his wedding and I took a short break to New York City. The plan was simple, we were going to drink some ale, do some shopping, take in the beautiful city, watch the ECW wrestling pay per view and buy a tight fitting pair of trousers. You know, the usual clichéd manly man things that you're meant to do before someone gets married. Apart from the trousers they were just mine. All mine.

Our trip began on Thursday June 8th 2006 when my brother collected me with my big blue case of t-shirts and one jacket. Now, New York in June is meant to be hotter than England right? Well, last time I went, man it was it was hot. Bernard Manning1 could have cooked pheasant on the side walk2 outside the Rockefeller Centre. It was scorchio!
This time, however, I found myself wearing my jacket at all times other than when not in the shade and in Lace! England was about 30 degrees all weekend and almost twice the temperature.

Once we got Scott (best man) we left for the airport. It was at the point I began the plane crashing odds banter. After he showed us his stress pills I decided it was probably best to ease away from the more negative aspects of flying. After we had checked in and after I had been frisked we walked across to the TGI Friday's restaurant and ordered some food. It was here that Scott whispered to me that the guy sitting over from us looked like Michael Keaton3. "Michael Keaton?" I said probably way too loud. I thought about it for a couple of seconds and realised who he meant. "He looks fuck all like Batm..." I cut myself short as this guy was now looking down at his menu. "Woah He's got Batman's forehead" setting somewhat of a theme for the weekend I then ask "Do you reckon he'd let us take a picture". I think we both new the answer.
We left London Heathrow late Afternoon. The flight itself was okay. The food was the pretty standard haggard mess that you shouldn't even feed animals or the elderly. I jest of course. I'd never do that to an animal.

America has a kind of charm about it that I love, similar to the way I feel about London. Yet I know that if I lived there I would end up throwing myself headfirst into the Hudson River with a box of Devil Dogs4 in each pocket. A case of too much of a good thing I assume.
We ended the brief first night in Manhattan with a Subway5 from of couple of guys who knew more about last season's football than I did and a Jack Daniel's and diet coke from a small bar around 106th and Broadway. Afterwards we retired back to the 'Aspen' hotel which resembled something out of Police Academy. I was literally waiting for Mahoney to boot the door in using Zed's head and arrest me in a menacing, yet hilarious way. Luckily, instead it was more like Police Academy 7. Nothing happened.

I was up early on the Friday since the difference in time zone had most likely another day before I was totally comfortable with the five hour time difference. Once all up and awake we headed 'north' about ten blocks to find Tom's Restaurant, which was Monk's in Seinfeld to get some breakfast. After some dodgy American food we then proceeded to walk about four miles down Into Times Square. Like last time there was so much going on and amongst all the near death taxi dodging we managed to walk about a bit and just try and take it all in.

When we stopped for lunch at this little diner somewhere around 7th avenue there was this waiter who looked just like the wrestler Eddie Guerrero who died late last year. The facial likeness was amazing and we couldn't believe it, well, apart from Scott who wasn't familiar with 'Latino Heat'. Again I spurt out "we've got to get a picture". My brother had a quick look as we were about to leave but said he couldn't find him. I think he was just scared to ask.
We went out later that night to look for something to do after a short sleep. I felt horrible and just wanted to sleep again. I met my brother and his best man Scott In the lobby of the Police Academy hotel a few minutes later. After carefully stepping over the chalk outlines at the front of the building a homeless women strode over to me as I drank some of the remains of my bottle of Poland spring water and casually asked "can I have your water?" how could I say no? I gladly handed the bottle over. We hailed a 'cab' and left for Times Square once again only for Scott, who was sitting next to me in the taxi to replicate the women's "can I have your water?" it was funny, sadly.

After a few minutes walking around the busiest part of the city this bearded Polish dude asked us if we wanted to visit one of the local comedy clubs. How could we turn this pirate looking chap down?

Ninety minutes later we find ourselves at The Laugh Factory sitting to the comedians left at this little strip club table. It was like something out of the Cabaret scene in Goodfellas. Alan Partridge couldn't have even got his eleven inch plate6 on the table that we were sitting at. We pick up our Coronas' and Godfather7 and go to move to the bigger seating behind us and this woman shouts "don't sit there there's a dead rat" to which my brother replies something along the lines "look at the size of the bastard" now, all this is going on as the compere is walking on stage so he looks over and says "what the fuck is going on over there?" to which I reply "there's a dead animal". Lost amongst all the talk that was going on between the two tables and the dude on stage my brother shouts out:"happy Christmas"
"happy Christmas what the fuck?" the comedian responded
"what's with the accent are you some kind of British wenker?"
"ooooh" unanimously the crowd roared
"what nationality are you" asks the comedian
"Spanish" proclaims my idiot brother
"...right, on the show tonight…"

I woke up Saturday morning with the television in my room still on and was confronted with 'eye witness news' on the local ABC channel. I think some bouncer had gone postal8 and attacked someone at a club. That's always disturbing when you hear that the dude that's meant to be solving and preventing trouble batters someone with a hubcap.

Staying at a place that doesn't have a restaurant meant we headed 'north' again to Tom's at half time of the England game. By now the food was taking its toll and we were all starting to miss battered cod, fried eggs and floppy bacon or something like that anyway. "Can I have your water?" Scott mimics as we laugh like simpletons. We left Jerry Seinfeld's favourite café and headed to and Irish pub a few blocks down to watch the last few minutes of the England game.
This time at Times Square we went into the Mall and I bought an awesome pair of slim fitting trousers. Their going to look fantastic with a co-ordinating shirt and tie.

Again in the quest for food we stopped at this tiny food court to sample some bourbon chicken. Once outside walking along 7th avenue my brother and Scott wandered into a place called 'The Playpen' to look at some filthy disgusting filthy DVD's only to discover a live girls section at the rear of the shop. I freaked out after seeing the women in the booths I waited outside until they came out with tales of women stripping behind windows. Literally two minutes later this dude stops us outside Lace Gentlemen's club and asks us if we'd like to enter. Now, I was hoping we could take my brother to somewhere like this since he'd be shackled in less than two weeks but at four in the afternoon? Chris Rock once said "you know you've got a problem if you're in a strip club and it's still light outside" After only a few minutes of sitting in the dimly lit, mirrored and very small club an attractive (I think! I mean it was dark in there) women comes over and sits in front of me and the following conversation takes place:
"you look terrified"
"I am"
"but why? There's all these beautiful women around"
"I think that's the problem"
"would you like me to dance for you?"
"sure"

I am one goofy mother fucker.
Shortly after this we noticed that Scott kept nodding at the bouncer. Feel free to insert your own punch line here. After talking to and admiring some lovely ladies we headed back to Bates, I mean the Aspen Hotel which, at this point, I realised there was a sign above the canopy saying Marrakech hotel. Were we were even staying in the right place?

We met back in the lobby and hour or so later and agreed that we must visit the strip club again. It was destiny. "Can I have your water?" rang out as we descended the stairs.
My brother proceeded to buy some caffeine pills from the chemist9 and it was here that they both took two and I took one.

A few minutes after getting into Times Square once again, Scott started to complain that he didn't feel well, and my brother too. I was just being unsympathetic and laughing. After they drunk some ale at another Irish pub they decided to brave it out and go back to the mirrored visual fun house. Once inside Lace we ordered our over priced drinks. I, once again, asked for a Godfather. The drink that I discovered at the comedy club and had also had on my previous visit to the club a few hours ago. After two sips I thought I was going to die and stared at the floor for about two hours. I was miserable. I was only there waiting for these two clowns to leave with me. There must have been about twenty women who came over and kept asking me if I'd like a dance. Each time I explained that I was ill and one even offered to get me some bread. "Now I know how women feel" I joked to Scott "They won't leave me alone" he merely responded with "can I have your water?"

We got back to our hotel and I felt fine. The last thing I remember is watching one of the four channels that my television could pick up called MNN or something. Why are all American TV networks titled with three characters?

Sunday June 11th was to be our last full day in Manhattan. The breakfast trip only included myself and my brother today as Scott was ill after the plethora of ale he drunk last night. My brother and I discussed over corn flakes, tea, coffee10, cinnamon toast and a bacon sandwich about our previous nights illnesses. It had to be the caffeine pills. Normally I wouldn't even think that I'd need it. I'll make sure to bypass11 any American 'health' foods or supplements in future.
We left for a nice walk through Central Park sometime before midday. The last ten or so blocks we got bored and just walked along side the park and admired it from over the wall. Even though we were debating what we were actually doing and that we've already walked way too much and that we should get a taxi we kept walking until we arrived at the designer shops near some of Donald Trump's hotel/ apartments.

I managed to find the Bruce Campbell book that I wanted here and also had the pleasure of taking a picture of a giant statue with his penis out with my two cohorts either side.
En route to the Hard Rock café we saw a cowboy wearing only a hat, boots and a pair of very tight kegs holding an acoustic guitar. The popular "Do you reckon he'd let us take a picture" comment, however, only occurred after we had had lunch and by then our slender Enus-esque friend had moved on. We did nonetheless find an unattractive man wearing a skirt and ladies skinny top doing a very lame dance to some Mexican guys playing pipes. The other two seemed to find this funnier than I and only when they recreated the camp dance did I get it.

Tonight's entertainment was the annual ECW wrestling pay-per-view and I was looking forward to watching some physical theatre and chanting some obscenities. The show was good, some of the chants were pretty messed up though, Adam Copeland's girlfriend isn't a crack whore, surely?

After we left the Manhattan Centre we went back to the Irish pub again for a couple of frosty beverages and a few recreations of a now popular shoulder alternating dance. Before we knew it we were headed back to Lace gentlemen's club. Once my brother was all danced out and was content that he'd seen enough women to carry him over until he gets married in a couple of weeks we left the establishment only to realise it was 3am. We were in there over two hours.
My brother managed to hail a taxi somewhere along 7th avenue, the place where we spent most of our time in New York it seemed. Halfway back to our hotel we notice how erratically the guys driving was and we all begin to make jokes that if we go any faster were going to travel back in time meet Doc Brown. The comments about Delorean's, Marty Mcfly and time travel continued until Scott and I noticed how irritated my brother was getting about this dudes driving.
Once we were back outside the hotel my brother tells us that if the driver had got out the car he would have 'belted him'. I looked at Scott who replied with 'the dance.'

Today was Monday and was the last four hours of our trip. I was only woken up by a knock at my door otherwise I'd probably still be asleep now. We went to Tom's restaurant one last time. The other two eat pizza burgers and chips while I had a milkshake with an eyelash in it.
It was here that I pointed out that Lace Gentlemen's club opens in fifteen minutes. We joked about chanting "let us in, let us in" outside the club much like the fans did at the ECW show the previous night. Four visits in three days, not even we could manage that.

We concluded out trip with a tour of Duane Reade chemists' along Broadway led by Christopher, my brother, who seems to have a great fascination with drug stores.
Scott kept doing the dance that the chap in women's clothing was doing to keep me entertained throughout this traumatic time.

Waiting to board the plane Christopher and I decided that we should find the vibrating comfy chairs and get a bit of a back 'massage' before the flight. When we arrived at the gate the comfy chairs were all occupied by people just sitting in them and not actually using them. So, looking at this guy sleeping in one of the vibrating chairs I get this really evil idea. "Quick give me a dollar" I said to Scott who proceeded to fish a one dollar bill from his pocket. I sneaked over like something out of a cartoon and put the dollar bill into the slot and ran to where the other two were waiting. We were laughing so much that we all had tears in our eyes. The guy sat forward with a look of fear on his face. He had no idea what was going on. He must have thought there were kids behind him kicking his seat. He eventually sat back and enjoyed the remainder of the vibrating seat.

Scott pointed out that there was a Jewish fella standing to our right that looked like George Dawes. Choruses of "he's the baby…" rang out as we boarded flight AA100 to London Heathrow.
The three of us walked down the tunnel to board the plane all doing the dance. Then all I hear is:
"Can I have your water?"

1To get the joke my 3,000 mile friends trade Bernard Manning for, say, Martha Stewart.
2 The pavement and I don't mean the band.
3 Think the Dark Knight, fuckers.
4 Don't ask. Artie Lange lives on them.
5 Italian BMT on wheat bread with salad
6 See I'm Alan Partridge episode Alan Attraction
7 Almond amaretto almond liqueur and bourbon, ice and a cherry
8 Like Newman in Seinfeld
9 Pharmacy, apothecary, Holland and Barrett
10 Or cawfey depending what side of the Atlantic you live on
11 Or freeway

Look-alikes spotted:
Michael Keaton
Eddie Guerrero
George Dawes

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2006/writers/arash_markazi/06/12/hot.read/1.html/
http://www.laceny.com/