Dispatches from Poppy Spalding
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.