Seymour Totti’s Foreign Policy

An angel.

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A new air service launched by a Vatican linked travel organisation, Opera Romana Pellegrinaggi (ORP), aims to deliver the penitent at budget prices. But don’t expect to be winging down to Rio to celebrate the beginning of Lent.

The Service, which is based out of Rome, is only operating flights to Lourdes in France at present. But by the end of the year aircraft inscribed with the legend “Seeking your face, Lord” will be bearing the faithful to Spain’s Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage route, Poland’s Czestochowa sanctuary and the shrine to Fatima, in Portugal.

Flights are also planned to Jerusalem in Israel and Sinai in Egypt.

Faith tourism is, of course, big business but Father Cesare, director of ORP which already shuttles some 400,000 Catholics to sites in Europe and beyond each year, says, “This is not a money-making operation. It is a service that we believe in.” Riiiiight, the confessional box is this way father.

Much more uplifting is the knowledge that Axejet (http://www.axejet.co.za), South Africa’s newest airline who’s slogan is “Get on, Get off”, is certainly not leaving passenger safety in the lap of the gods. In a recent press release the airlines says it is to ban bras on all flights.

A spokesman explained that during a routine in-flight oil wrestling match between the Axejet Mostesses a bra strap suddenly snapped off and hit an unsuspecting passenger in the face. Axejet takes the safety of its passengers very seriously so it has been decided that no bras will be allowed on Axejet flights.

When asked what she thought about this new in-flight regulation Axejet Mostess Maxine said, “I was there when the bra strap snapped off and I know that the Mostesses and the passengers would feel much safer if

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Typhoon Pabuk is stomping through Hong Kong at the moment. Typhoons are what people in the Pacific call Hurricanes. Though they never seem quite as ferocious as hurricanes they do have their moments, usually by uprooting small Pacific nations so they rarely make it onto the mainstream news.

But the arrival of Typhoon Pabuk means my departure has been delayed and I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to get out and drown my sorrows in Wanchai.

It’s not the first time I’ve been forced to batten down the hatches in Honkers and sit out a storm. In fact it’s happened several times.

Some years ago it was Typhoon Brenda that delayed my departure to the Philippines but on that occasion poetic Justice was eventually served.

When I did finally get to my destination I found myself playing pool, and loosing rather badly, to a lady called Brenda. I re-christened her Typhoon Brenda because I thought it was a good name for a pool player. She started the jokes about blow jobs.
More pics this way

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I found this delightful story on a blog called Chopped Onions. You can read the original page right here. It’s a fine blog. For those of you too lazy click, or have already got your dick out ready to express your feelings for our model, I’ve cut and pasted the story.

A RIGHT PICKLE

A few beers with the boys the other day and the conversation came round to Wan Chai and the delights there-in. The general direction of the conversation was that real warriors don’t do Wan Chai on a Friday or Saturday, quote “we leave those nights for the suits”. Experts or dedicated whore monger’s time of choice seemed to be Sunday afternoon. Reason being that Sunday is pretty much a universal day off and this creates an edgy atmosphere of relaxed tension. The tension being that everyone wants to get fucked either by someone else or booze or both.

“Talking of getting fucked….” chef’s mate volunteered, and then went into how he just happened to be passing-by a certain short stay “love” hotel in Wan Chai last Sunday afternoon (a hotel named, with irony I assume, after a British monarch whose name usually implies prudishness and innuendo) and was witness to a more extreme version of the “I got fucked in Wan Chai” scenario.

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