It’s gay pride parade day today here in Amsterdam. A day when men and women of all preferences come together to celebrate diversity in sexuality by dancing to the Village People’s greatest hits while trying unsuccessfully to not to crash their canal boats into another group dancing to the greatest hit of The Weather Girls (and no, that’s not a euphemism).
It’s a great parade to check out even as a straight person. The city’s canals turn into one big party of music, dancing and feather bowers. However, it is maybe not a good idea to check it out as a straight person while wearing a t-shirt with the words ‘I Like Me’ written upon it in very large letters. As I discovered three years ago it’s all about context. On any other day of the year ‘I Like Me’ is a humorous T-shirt worn for simple amusement. However, on gay pride day ‘I Like Me’ becomes a T-shirt that unintentionally declares, “I’m here and I’m quire and I’m ok with that,” to other free and single male celebrators. Especially if you start throwing shapes to YMCA like I can never seem to stop myself doing.
So waking up in the morning and deciding to put on such a T-shirt when you know you are going to watch the gay pride parade (as I did) might not be the best informed choice to make even if it is nice to find out that you have options… a lot of options (as I did).
Every summer my parents come over to Holland to visit. This is always great fun because I get to show them around the areas of Holland that I have discovered as well as be a tourist myself and discover a few new areas. This also tends to lead to a few funny stories. During an active week of theme parks, zoos, boat rides and more I have:
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Proved myself as a man by winning a fluffy giraffe for my woman at the Efteling fair ground.
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Experimented with live twittering from the queue of a rollercoaster (live twittering ‘on’ the rollercoaster did not go as smoothly even with the help of predictive text).
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Drove my parents around in my girlfriend’s car. They had not ‘experienced’ my driving for 15 years but it seems the fear was not so easily forgotten. Every time my girlfriend handed me the car keys my father would ask, “Are you sure that is a good idea?”
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Ended up with a few ‘patches’ of sun burn were I was not very ‘thorough’ with the sun screen.
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Met my nemesis, a small monkey criminal mastermind at Apenheul who used his cuteness to lure me in so he could attempt to steal my camera. When that did not work he bit me and ran away. He shall be known as; Moriarty.
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Witnessed my father empty a sashay of mustered into his tea when he mistook it for a sashay of milk and still drink the whole thing even after he realized his mistake. Apparently it was, “not too bad.”
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Managed to completely confuse a waiter at a pancake restaurant (Full story here).
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Head-butted a mosquito. It had been buzzing around my ear all night and when I suddenly threw my head of the pillow in frustration I felt the tiny blood sucker bounce off my fore head. It was unintentional but it had it coming.
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Visited the city of Den Bosch and went on a canal trip that went ‘under’ the city. It felt like something out of a Dutch version of a Dan Brown novel (but less confusing and much more suitable for a movie adaption).
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Bumped into blogger VallyP in a way that probably has her now worried that I am stalking her (standing outside her boat while my mum took photos).
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Sailed the waters of Leiden with the most terrifying crew to ever raise anchor in Holland; my father in a pirates hat and my mother in a life jacket.
Since I will be busy showing my parents around Holland this week I have dug up the first ever blog post I ever wrote to share with you. Until now this post has never actually appeared on Invading Holland because it was originally written in my misguided MySpace days before I heard of real blogging.
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As an Englishman I have a unique point of view on the Netherlands. This point of view is usually a foot or two low that of the average Dutchman given their extreme height.
The Netherlands is a very flat country and as such its people are very envious of any other countries with even the smallest of hills or speed bumps. Young skateboarders and go-cart racers are more bitter then most. The Dutch try to compensate for this feeling of hill impotence by giving their country two names; Holland and The Netherlands (not to be confused with Never Land. You won’t find Tinkerbell here… unless maybe you spend too long in a coffee shop).
The Dutch as a whole are a very friendly people (unless they work in customer services or you mention hills). However not everyone on the street who asks, ‘Charlie?’ is inquiring about your name. This could lead to some confusion if your name actually is Charlie. You may end up being given a small bag of what seems to be a very expensive and ineffective washing powder.
It is also a popular belief that every Dutch person wears clogs, eats cheese, is constantly stoned and knows the price and proper etiquette when dealing with prostitutes in the red light district. However this is not true… sometimes they wear trainers.
Attempting to cross the street in the Netherlands can be like taking part in a live game of ‘Frogger’ because not only do the Dutch drive on the other side of the road (to the English) but you also have to look out for trams, bikes, stoned English tourists and then try not to fall in a canal (and then look out for canal boats if you do).
There are a few important phrases that come in handy when in Holland. If you can successfully order ‘een uitsmijter met ham en kaas’ you can eat like a god. As my Dutch friends will tell you it’s the only thing I’ll ever eat when we go out for lunch. If they tell you it is the only thing on the menu that I can order in Dutch it’s all lies… lies I tell you… I can order ‘een uitsmijter met bacon en kaas’ too.
“Spreekt u Engels?” is another very useful phrase but you’ll find that asking the average Dutch person if they can speak English is like asking if they can count to three since most of them can do both. I’ve been told that most Dutch people learn English from TV and repeats of The A-Team. However I have yet to hear any of them, “Pity the fool.”
If all else fails you can always use the phrase I use the most, “Ik heb geen idee wat u zegt,” which translates to, “I have no idea what you said.”
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This post was also recently featured on A Letter from the Netherlands.
I’d also like to thank Clogs and Tulips for asking me to take part in a recent interview and Orangesplaash for sending me the Loyal and Lovely Blog Award.
Please state your name for the court.
Bz bbzzz.
Mr. Mosquito, Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you god?
Bzz.
Please tell the court where you were between the hours of 11:00pm on July 15th and 6:00am on July 16th.
Bbbzzzzz… bbbzzzzz… bzzz.
Mr. Mosquito. Must I already remind you that you are under oath?
Bz.
Then I ask you again, please tell the court where you were between the hours of 11:00pm on July 15th and 6:00am on July 16th and please try to think about your answer very carefully.
Bbbbzzzzz… bbbzzzzz.
And what were you doing in the bedroom of my client at such a late hour?
Bbbbbzzz… bbzzz… bzzz… bzzz.
You were only trying to collect food for your family? I can understand that. It’s very noble. I’m a family man myself. I have two little ones of my own. I’d do anything for them. But please tell me; why the multiple bite marks on the one foot.
Bbzzz?
It’s a simple enough question Mr. Mosquito! Why did you repeatedly bite my client on the underside of his foot? You must have known this would result in it being very painful for him to walk the next morning. This hardly sounds like the actions of a concerned family man now does it? If you really have a family at all that is.
Bz! Bbzzzz bbbbzzzzzz bbzzz bz bbbbzzzzz!
I see… Well, if I was to believe such a thing then I have to ask; why keep my client awake all night? If indeed the foot was the only thing exposed from under the bed sheets as you have stated then why would you fly all the way up to the ear at the other end of the body. You did not feed there so this seems like a pointless action. Unless you were intent on keeping my client awake by buzzing around his ear.
Shall I tell you what I think Mr. Mosquito? I think you chose to bite my client on the underside of the foot and I think you chose to take your time to buzz around his ear between bites because you like your victims to be scared. I think you like to keep them awake all night. I think it adds to your twisted sense of fun.
Bzzz! Bbbbzzzz bzz bbbbzzzzz!
And what about my client’s girlfriend? She was sleeping peacefully next to him all night and yet we know you did not bite her. You did not go near her. You only seemed interested in my client, some might say obsessed even, fixated on one victim. Why is that Mr. Mosquito? Do you only like men?
Bz! Bz!
But it’s not enough is it Mr. Mosquito! What about the bites along the spine during the night that followed? What’s the matter? Is blood no longer enough? Do you need spinal fluid to give you the buzz you so desperately crave? It’s becoming harder to control that insane hunger isn’t it Mr. Mosquito! ISN’T IT!
Bbzz! Bbbbzzzzz!
The blood found in your stomach at the time of your arrest was a DNA match for my client! We know you did it! We can all see you for what you really are! The ritualistic biting, the tormenting, the preference for the male victim, only striking during the summer months! All clearly the emerging pattern of a sexually perverted serial killer! You can’t control the hunger any longer can you Mr. Mosquito. It’s building inside of you, clawing away! How long until you kill Mr. Mosquito! Have you already? HAVE YOU! WHERE ARE THE BODIES?!
Bbbzzz. Bbbzzz. Bbbbbbzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
It’s no use crying Mr. Mosquito. All you can do now is confess.
Bz.
Very well… As you wish.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the court, you have heard the defendant’s obvious lies. You have heard the evidence and you have heard the chilling events that transpired. All I ask is that you think them over very clearly when giving your verdict. ‘Guilty’ or not guilty… Thank you for your time.
It’s all happening this week.
A couple of months ago I was contacted by the host of the very funny Stuart Britton Show which broadcasts on Southhampton HBA. He (as I found out) has been a reader of my blog for some time and after we swapped some amusing stories about the fact that we were both called Stuart he asked if I would be interested in doing a cartoon of the show’s presenters for their website. Of course I answered yes and spent some time working away with photoshop.
As a thank you (and I’m really blown away by this) Stuart had my World Cup posts read professionally on the show by Alan Lambourn from Sky Sports. I cannot thank them enough. The brilliant sounding reading can be heard here…
…or alternatively by clicking here.
Check out the rest of their highly amusing podcasts (and the new cartoon) on
The Stuart Britton Show website
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