My Big Gap Year

Dispatches from Poppy Spalding

Wednesday: Amsterdam

AMSTERDAM! You might think that I came here for the same reasons as all the gibbering British zombaloids lumbering around the streets with nutella smeared on their chins – and maybe that is why I came. But there are more reasons to visit than the varieties of soapbar available: you can also educate your mind about art and discover what gender you really are in one of the many sex venues, which was something I'd previously had to rely on Facebook for.

The hostel is much more fun than the YHA places you sometimes get. YHAs tend to be full of bulky Portuguese girls with acne who get up at seven in the morning and set about stuffing plastic bags into other plastic bags for what seems like an eternity. But my dorm here is full of really good-looking people from cool places like South Africa and Jerusalem. Everyone just loves smoking so we sparked the jigget of peace and got down to some serious chess. I don't know how to play chess but somehow that didn't matter and I came third! Genius!

It's true what they say about how 'a smoke and a drink make you think' because after a few rounds of Amstel and several doobies, someone pointed out Van Gogh's Starry Night on the wall and we all thought about it for it like 20 minutes. The sun is a star and it's made of helium so why don't people get squeaky voices on hot days? Mental.

At that point we did what Patrick Moore must do when his brain hurts from thinking about stars: we headed down the red light district for some dirty ladies! It was my first time and I got a lapdance from a stripper who wasn't even Dutch or a lesbian but she still got really into it. She was Latvian and had a Budweiser label stuck to her bottom. She seemed pretty classy and I didn't think it was part of her costume so at the end of the dance I thought it only fair to let her know. But instead of thanking me, she told the doorman I'd humiliated her and I was asked to leave. Whenever I was in bed with DJ Rico and I had a bit of Muller-rice in my ear, he let me know immediately and I was really glad. I just don't get women.

Which is not good news because my sociology lecturer once told us that the Y gene was useless and one day the whole world will be made of lesbians, all having babies together and going to TGI Fridays to celebrate. I guess the lesson I'll take away with me is that I'll be okay as long as I stay away from glam Slavic types with sticky beer buttocks. And it's this that makes Amsterdam the greatest city in the world.

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Bristol Flocks To See 'Banksy's Penis'

A DRAWING of an ejaculating penis found in a Bristol toilet cubicle is believed to be an early work by guerilla art genius Banksy.

Experts say the genesis of the artist's distinctive style is clearly evident in the fluid lines of the big bell end, rendered in bold, vivid green biro.

Since its discovery last week, a 500 yard-long queue has formed outside the pub as art lovers clamour to see what locals have dubbed 'Banksy's cock'.

University lecturer, Dan Simmons, said: "It's a triumph. The engorged member represents multinational corporations filled with their own sense of self importance while the blobs of ejaculate are clearly child labourers in the Philippines.

"It should be compulsory for school children to come and look at this."

Street artist Banksy is Bristol's most successful commodity since Denzel's CatArse – a type of cider that makes your eyes fall out – and slaves.

Art critic Nathan Muir said: "Banksy speaks for a generation with his colourful drawings of teddies being attacked by hordes of heavily armoured riot police in big helmets clearly labelled 'evil'.

"No other artist of the last 25 years has managed to convey the message that good things are good and bad things are bad in a way that is so exciting and accessible to first year sociology students and other types of twat or muppet."

But local scaffolder Pete Harman was less impressed, adding: "I am totally bursting for a shit and all these people are in the way."