Berlin, Hamburg, Bremen: The German Sexcapade Continues

The handsome man on the right is Ian. (The handsome girl on the left is Katharina. She grew from Ian’s knee in Berlin. Later, Katharina divided into two equally handsome girls—some sort of handsome girl mitosis—then those girls divided into four hot girls… In about an hour our dressing room was filled with beautiful women. Ian has this power.) Ian is very important to us. In addition to filling our dressing room with pretty girls, he can drive Air Force Fun from München/Munich to Berlin (10 1/2 hours!) without stopping to go to the bathroom, wake Zachary up in the morning (Zachary doesn’t do mornings), go for three days without eating just for the hell of it, and deal with angry hotel clerks and promoters when we urinate on/fornicate with/set fire to their property.

Also, he and Little Sausage banter at the front of the van with wit rivalling Statler and Waldorf from the Muppets. You have to hear it, really.

These are the places this Beautiful Angel from Heaven took us in the past few days:

BERLIN

Berlin gave us fifty orgasms in rapid succession, bought us a Thai massage, then coaxed us to anotherfifty orgasms at a more comfortable pace. Then it bought us ice cream and used the dessert as lube to deliver us ANOTHER fifty orgasms, these even more furious than the first batch. Under normal circumstances we’d be totally spent, but man, we are ROCK HARD for this city. And we ROCK HARD for Berlin.


Q: How good was the show at the Lido?

A: 150 orgasms good.

The city basically fick die scheisse raus aus mir in the sexiest way possible.

(We’re pretty sure the German capital likes us too… We reciprocate all ‘favors’ given.)

HAMBURG


Mario (our lovely German promoter), Kat (his girlfriend), and Mario’s magic chicken drowned us in Mexicans. We’re still not quite sure what a German Mexican is, but it comes in a shot glass and tastes like a Bloody Mary. Kind of like Nathaniel! (Holla!)

Shit got scary:




This is what I looked like the next morning:


BREMEN

We died and went to Bremen. We changed our names, burned our passports and took up permanent residence in the Krone hotel, where the beds are made out of magic. New Dyan took a job as a schoolteacher, new Zachary became mayor, new Nathaniel got a residency as a cobbler, new Zebastian was hired as a postman, new Ian and new Little Sausage opened a bed and breakfast, and new me finally earned a medical degree and started a small hospital.

Bremen is the Most Beautiful town in the world. It is home to the Cantina (the best restaurant in the world run by the beautiful people pictured with me below) and some musical animals. We’re never going home.


Farewell… forever!

Ben Lee Handler

Little Sausage is Well Prepared

Remember how I told you yesterday that Little Sausage could build an amp from gravel and tinder sticks? Well that’s absolutely true. There he is below, proving me right.


Oh yes, we’ve just discovered that Tony’s given name is actually ‘Little Sausage.’ (The ‘Tony’ came about when children in primary school nicknamed him ‘Pepperoni,’ which was later amended to ‘Peppertony,’ then finally abbreviated to ‘Tony.’) We’ve decided to go with what his parents gave him, and roll on with Little Sausage.

Little Sausage has had an instant impact on the My Friend, my friend… Lover? Tour, which was witnessed en force last night in Liverpool.

For starters, he created a new bass drum head for Zachary:


Then he helped me determine a topic for my introduction:


Then he broke this guy’s arm when he tried to throttle Nathaniel:


Then he dried the singer’s tears and gave him a special medal for being so brave during the ordeal:


The show—minus the violence—was great, as was the afterparty at the Jazz bar, where Tord from the Wombats’ younger sister and her entourage proved to be the best dancers I have ever seen ever.

I love you,

Ben Lee Handler