Berlin

I think I like this place because, deep down, the city is a slut.

This morning, on the U2 from Schonhauser Allee into Mitte I looked around me and was comforted by the way that, in Germany, I could pass for attractive. I'm not saying it's an ugly country, it's just not full of waiflike beauties. And everyone looks like they'd be more than happy to sleep with you, they're just waiting to be asked. That said, I'd insist that most of them had a good bath first...

Talking about baths, my German colleague took me out to Cabaret last night. It largely involved a cigar smoking dwarf, blowing smoke filled bubble-sculptures whilst fey young men and sturdy girls cavorted in a stage full of baths. It was quite odd and not the Kit Kat Klub that I was hoping for. I guess there's no accounting for what is classed as entertainment in other countries. I once went to see an Edith Piaf tribute show in Bucharest. I'm not sure how the little sparrow would feel at being portrayed by a Romanian bruiser who systematically murdered song after song, whilst rolling around on a bed with a man who looked like he'd shag you, then steal your wallet on the way out. But hey, god bless Romania. I was mugged within ten minutes of stepping out of the cab and have vowed never to return.

Back in Berlin, Me and Stefan get dropped off at Tegel to catch our respective flights home. As the taxi fades into the distance I realise that, while he was paying the driver, I've taken my bag, Stefan's bag and the taxi driver's bag out of the boot.

I really should concentrate more.