room service

So, I actually started this blog this morning

And I’m only just finishing it now, because I’m a lazy cow the internet today has completely sucked arse

So here it is, better late than never…


Last night we stayed in a big old English manor, that’s been converted into a hotel

Very fancy, with all the trimmings

I always wonder what they must think when our crew rocks up at these places

I mean, there’s old ladies having morning tea

And men in suits standing around, discussing cricket

A butler to take our bags

Very upperclass

Just like we are NOT

But this blog isn’t about how classy we ain’t


Let’s get back to the butler

He told me his name

But do you think I can remember pronounce it?

It sounded something like a gay stripper’s name Heinifitchyfarter

So I’m going to call him Henry

“Hotel Henry”

Hotel Henry was assigned as our personal concierge

I know, total fuckery isn’t it?

He kind of followed us around for a while asking if he could do anything, or get anything for us

And we’re all like, nah fuck it mate, we’re good

Just point us in the direction of the bar

I think Hotel Henry was a bit disappointed that he couldn’t be more helpful to us

‘Cause that kind of service and attention is pretty much wasted on us

We just come in, eat, nap, go to work, come back and sleep again

Oh, and if you’re Dad – poo about 35 times in between

Although he’s feeling better today

Yesterday he was up to 50!


So for us, not a lot of time to hang out really



Hotel Henry was obviously a persistent little fucker determined to go ‘above and beyond’ for us

Or at least for me anyway

While I was out at the gig last night, he’d been into my room

Nothing wrong with that

He just did the whole, fold down the sheets, leave a chocolate on the pillow thingy

Lovely really

But here’s where Hotel Henry got a bit weird took it to the next level

Right next to the chockie on my pillow, was a letter

Or actually more of a poem

That I think he’d written

And then he’d left 2 apples on the dresser


Now, keep in mind that I checked in by myself

He’d even asked me earlier what time could we expect ‘MR TALIA’ to arrive

And I told him that ‘MR TALIA’ was buried in the backyard in Chicago, and not joining me


So there’s also 2 plates

And 2 knives

And 2 bottles of water

And tea service

For 2 of course

And here’s the kicker

Where there WAS one bath robe hanging behind the door when I left for work

Now there was, yep, you guessed it, TWO!

So I‘m not sure if Hotel Henry was trying to offer me his no doubt tiny dweeby penis extra service

And maybe I’m just jumping to conclusions

But that’s sure what it looked like to me?!?!

So I double-dead-bolted-locked the door

And put a chair against it for good measure

And it was all good – no little ‘tap, tap’ on my door last night

Not that I would have heard it anyway with a bottle of wine under my belt ‘cause I sleep really heavily

And when I opened my door this morning

Hotel Henry was right there waiting to scare the shit out of me

To take my suitcase to the car


So I was wrong

He’s just a really nice little guy

Who’s eager to please

And likes everything in pairs


And I’ve got 2 pairs of undies missing to prove it

One comment

  1. Maybe there were 2 hidden cameras too…one in the room & one in the bathroom…He was most likely watching (with 2 eyes), a pair of undies in each hand, to keep the “Twos” theme going (one for each nostril)…just in case you needed a thing or two… 😉

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