Given what is going on in Europe, I have been looking for a new tax haven to store my vast wealth. By vast wealth I refer to the jar half full of coins that was on the mantelpiece. It was fuller, but I had to raid it for 20 pence pieces the other day in order to buy a bottle of Petrus.

I had kept a note of its contents in my Smythson’s ‘Soho Sinner’ notebook, but that has recently gone AWOL. Yes Dave, it appears the Creative Consultant has been doing a marvellous job. It seems I’m not the only one interested in setting up a complicated series of trusts and offshore companies to save a few pence.

I decided to look for a safe haven in order not to pay the Swiss a huge roll to put it under their mattress.

I had contemplated transferring it to the principality of Battenburg, but that would be the icing on the cake.

And who really knows what the Swiss are going to do next? One night we might go to bed and the next day, the entire nation may have disappeared only to re-appear, invisible to the naked eye, on the moon in some sort of despicable act undertaken by some evil genius who doesn’t look unlike a stretch Silvio.

Good – then the Martians can come along and steal it all.

A small l.e.d. lamp went off in an environmentally friendly fashion in my head.

How about keeping my huge stash like, onshore man, perhaps sink it in a Cornish Tin Mine, no, not as an investment. So I consulted a friend, a certain P.Diddy, he lives down that way. It’s not his real name, but then who’d really want to be called that.

Mr Combs, it’s over!

Goodness, I am throwing jokes around like confetti today.

I took my private jet to Newquay. HM’s government allows me this expense for the rapid transfer of stock and deliveries for all my important clients.

As PD and I flew over what appeared to be a small private island on our reckie, I thought to myself that old rogue Redknapp must be doing well. The greatest manger England never had. That’s almost like saying Steve McLaren was the greatest manager England never had.

You mean he was England manager? I never knew, really? Perhaps I just blotted those rainy days and Sundays from my memory, they always got me down.

However, the island turned out to be St Michael’s Mount. Even better, a rock that in times gone by was inhabited by pirates, what safer place could there be?

Here are my four options. It’s a Mad, Mad World.

End of the Rainbow

Land’s End

Sennen Cove

St Michael’s Mount

So we all now have the election on our minds. Election I said!

I see it going like this, thanks once again, to Monty Python.

The Tousled Blond Mayor of the Lake, his arm clad in the purest shimmering samite held aloft a Glo’stick from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that Dave was to carry the Exchequer and THAT is why he is your Prime Minister.

Well, strange blond men lyin’ in ponds distributin’ swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate of the masses, not pond life and some farcical aquatic ceremony.

Related to the election, apparently there are those amongst you who will do anything to get to Ibiza.

Grant Shapps has been joking that although there will be stiff competition, only the hardest, working campaigners (ooohhh get you and your double entendres!) will be able to join Sam and Dave in a villa on holiday in Ibiza. So it will be days at Blue Marlin, chorizo by the pool and goodbye to Torymolinos.

Lucky old Dave even has a club named after him, DC10, a mixture of his initials and what he scores out of a 10 as a human baked bean. A friend of mine would say he’s “Awesome”. Not so!

So soft drinks all round and Adam Boulton will be pouring out the ‘Red Bull’, or just seeing a little red mist.

Whoa! Where do I sign?

If it means knocking on doors I’m up for it. I love a game of ‘Knock Down Ginger’.

As for kissing babes… me the Third Duke of Wimburn kissing women on their doorsteps for the sake of political gain, for an old school chum, with my reputation!

Oh sorry, babies! Eeewwww.

Apparently Nigel F is offering a weekend picking elderberries. Do elderberries become sloeberries, does the gin have anything to do with it, and was ‘his mother a hamster?’

Once again, thank you Monty Python….

So if the Camerons are going to enjoy the hedonistic lifestyle of the la Isla Bonita, Space, Amnesia, Es Paradis and Glitterbox at Boom, where the f*%$ am I going to go?

Anyways, that’s not the election that everyone is talking about.

We all want to know if David Ginola will become FIFA president and oust the bumbling, tumbling, fool Bepp Splater.

Daveeed would like to merge the mens and ladies’ World Cups in order that they take place at the same time.

OOoooooooooooh Davveeeed, me the Third Duke of Wimburn in the shower of the Brazilian Ladies changing room at the full time whistle with my reputation, I wouldn’t know which way to turn.

Daveeeeeed, you’ll be getting my vote and that of a good friend of mine who has now changed her profile photo to one of a young, coiffed and timberless Daveeeed.

By her own admission she has a little bit of crush on him, well him and Jose Mourinho. Well him, Jose, George Clooney and the Hemsworths. Well Daveed, Jose, George, the Hemsworths and… . Stop this is getting a little out of hand. Is there someone you don’t have a crush on? I don’t have all day to write this!

I took the liberty of inserting a photo of what the majority of people feel are the ideal woman, followed by that of the ideal man.

Well I don’t know what else you expected!

Given these days of sexual liberty, I will allow you all to decide on which side of the fence you will fall.

However, one amongst you, and a man amongst men, has another type of crush. After purchasing a new pair of shoes, he will place the right shoe next to him on the bed on a velvet pillow. The shoe must not have been worn, the shoe tree must be in place, and it must be freshly polished. He will then stroke and buff the shoe until the smell of fresh polish puts him to sleep.

OK, OK, the last bit I made up, but as for the velvet pillow, well OK, I made that bit up as well, the silk pillow cases he uses are good enough. I just didn’t think it sounded weird enough. Really?

These are photos of shoes for those of you who not satisfied with the other photos above and require something a little stronger. A little bit of posh, a little bit of rough and of course a little something for those of you who grew up on a farm.

Headed for a Velvet Pillow

A Little Bit of Rough

No Sign of a Struggle

And finally a panorama……

St Michael’s Mount

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

This particular newsletter is rated PG.

Which thankfully means there are no photos!

I have written this to all of those of you who have to be Jamie Oliver in the kitchen, David Gandy in the gym, as sensitive as Ted Zeff and a Christian Grey in the bedroom (or any other room, inside or out). Yes you get the picture, and I think to myself. Me? Me? Me?

I have been reliably informed that the restaurants of London will be empty tonight.

There’s a new boy in town and he’s wearing grey, quite a lot of grey, in fact to be precise 50 different shades.

Gone is the usual romantic dinner, where the last hour is spent fending off young men offering you roses in order that you can cement your love for the person who is sat opposite you. Or at least be like the cement, and get laid.

Apparently there are only two places to be this evening.

Firstly, at the Shadow Theatre Clarendon Street where a friend will be offering a Valentine theatrical treat in the form of a Kabuki production. A neighbour of his has been selling tickets ready for a play which can often involve grotesque masks and facial expressions, performed partly behind a blind with only the shadowy outline of the figures visible. I leave the rest to your imagination until the curtain comes up or down, depending on your perspective.

Secondly, and for the less squeamish amongst you, it seems that everybody else is off to see 50 Shades of Grey. Apart from someone who has now admitted to seeing it last night. Yes, you know who you are and despite stating the contrary I know you loved it!

Well, the things they don’t teach you round the back of the bike sheds at school these days.

Guys, I know one or two of you feel press ganged into this. No, I mean press ganged!

Oooh, the minds of some of you! Anyway, if you don’t want to be recognised wear one of the Kabuki masks, and then you can nip round to the Shadow Theatre later!

If the worst comes to the worst and you find yourself slightly incapacitated, imagine you are Bond. No, no, no.

Not tied to a chair being assaulted by a person with a length of knotted rope, which I know may work for one or two of you. Rather act out a scene from 50 Shades.

And if you are in real trouble it may be time to use the last resort of any spy worth his salt in this predicament and bite down hard on that molar. No, not the one containing the cyanide things aren’t that bad yet, but the one containing the emergency Blue pill, and ‘Hey Presto’ you are ready for action!

That is apart from J, I use only his initial, if I used his full name it would make it too obvious who this person is. J turns up in the shop every time he gets stood up by whichever boy or girl he has a date with, bottle of white wine in hand, telling me that I’m all he has left.

Now this is someone who should be press ganged aboard a boat, but this one needs no second invitation!

I personally will be auditioning for 50 Shades of Just for Men, the sequel, and yes it will involve my wearing 50 shades of Lycra.

I hope you all have wonderful evening with the one you love, and may cup of love runneth over.

Vash pour me another!

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life, but standing here among the clients of Volpe and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.

So that means another wine evening soon, and a delivery of new shirts to make those balmy spring days a sunrise closer.

8076 col 2 and 8013 col 4

8081 col 3 and 1

8121 col 4

8133 col 1 and 8022 col 3

8133 col 2 and 7100 col 7

8168 col 3 with white or red buttonholes

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Well thank you Mr Grey this morning was thrown into chaos.

Several things I had planned failed to materialize because some people didn’t turn up!

So those amongst you who had forgotten their “safe-word”, I can never feel your pain.

How can you forget your safe word?

It’s not as though it needs to be 8 characters long, contain numbers, letters, capitals and a symbol or two……… Sorry my mind wandered and I started to have a Carol Vorderman moment. Nope, it’s not going away.

Think of a Countdown conundrum, it might help. No, that’s just made it worse.

Then there were those who were blushingly, “Sorry I’m late, I lost my keys”. These were the keys to what exactly?

By all accounts this will be the beginning of the threesome of books all being made into films, and means Valentine’s Day is all locked up for the next few years.

Not only florists, but now locksmiths will have a bumper day every year to look forward to.

As the late Larry Grayson nearly put it, “Oh what a Grey Day!”.

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

New Spring Gilets

Black Leather Hooded Gilet

Brown Microfibre Gilet

Navy Down Filled Quilted Jacket

Navy Microfibre Gilet

Quilted Hooded Training Top

Reversible Gilet

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

February is a short month, but I’ve been getting it out a lot. I think this is the third time, lucky you.

I was in Rome, Bologna and Florence at the beginning of the week.

Once again I must raise a glass and an empty plate to those who watered and fed me. Simone, Stefania, Edy and Emanuele thank you all.

Emanuele thought we’d found a symbol on the tablecloth of the infamous crime organisation SCHMEER (The Secret Company of Huge Male Egos, Eccentrics and Rogues), but it was in fact a wine spill that looked like a scorpion.

SCHMEER

However I was in Rome on a top secret mission, well not so top secret now. They are shooting the new Bond movie along the banks of the Tiber outside Max’s office. Why was I there you might ask?

Well as you ask, as Monica Bellucci’s stunt double. I’d hoped it would get me closer to her, but it only involved me wandering round in a slinky dress and wig trying to look alluring before I was arrested, then told to take my business elsewhere. By all accounts from behind we could be twins, that’s if she walked like Dick Emery.

Phoaaarrr!

These mild mannered trucks contain Bond’s Aston Martin and the villain’s Jaguar.

I will be back there to shoot more scenes very soon, as soon as the restraining order that Monica has against me expires. Oooooh “Restraining Order”, that’s so 50 Shades…….

Talking of “That’s So!” I have been deeply disturbed by the Money Supermarket advert of the twerking man in denim shorts. My dear Sir, have you not heard of Spanx?

However it was made infinitesimally worse by having DC’s head transposed onto the video. I’m now waking up nights from a nightmare imagining all sorts of people twerking at the end of my bed in denim shorts. No of course it’s not what’s really happening. There is a list of miscreants at the end of the Newsletter!

DC………

One of the items that the statistics offer me regarding these newsletters is the most popular searches and where the website has been opened from. No, not the exact address, but it allows me to see in which country on this planet it has been opened. So Sam, I have no idea if you are opening it on your way to Mars or just circumnavigating the globe.

Last week, imagine my surprise when one of the most popular searches for my newsletter, was “Bulging Tight Speedos”!!!

Well I wasn’t really surprised given my propensity for wearing Lycra. However at no point have I ever posted a photo of me in Speedos, not even in that Superman way of wearing his pants outside his trousers or undressing in a phone box.

However, closely related to the Speedo issue, a friend has been telling me because he wears designer stubble most of the time that he is starting to wear through the collars on his shirts fairly rapidly, but there is also a rather alarming side effect to this stubble beyond his problems with the collar.

Whilst swimming front crawl in his tight Speedos the stubble is giving him a nasty rash, on his shoulder, I hasten to add. Better that than a carpet burn on his chin. You know who you are, and in both cases, how it happened!

A friend, whose real name is not Natasha has moved back here from Germany to work once again for a friend of mine who is also not called Sergei. At this point I’ve lost track of where I am and who I am talking about, but I will bravely carry the story forward.

Oh yes, I remember! She shares a house with several gay men, goes to the gym and the sauna with the same said men who delight in pointing out the buff, semi-naked men around her are all of the same proclivity.

She has likened this to be being as frustrated as a kid in a candy shop with diabetes. Must be the German sense of humour!

But she has helped to solve the riddle about the whole beard thing, heavens I’m so stupid it’s all that hair around a pout, it’s so 70’s. Men move forward, try a Brazilian, a Hollywood, even a bit of glitter.

Finally before that list of people wearing denim.

A client from Texas has been telling me about their “Open Carry” Law. By that I thought that particularly ugly babies had to be wheeled round in closed top buggies. Apparently that’s not very nice and also incorrect. Well excuse me!

It pertains to the open carrying of weapons in public. He had been asking me if I could make him a walking cane with a thermal nuclear warhead in the tip. The handle is to house a trained Curare frog, which can fire darts made from its own poison, less of a killing machine and more of a personal statement.

Cute, but lethal

By all accounts gun crime there is on the way down, but it would be when everyone is walking round with a Sherman Tank on a lead!

Now for that list:

At number 1: Dave and Gideon (George, to you commoners)

2: Dear Silvio

3: Vladimir P

4: Donatella Versace

5: Madonna – If she could stay on her feet.

6: Robbie Williams

7: Francois Hollande and now I’m feeling ill, so I’m going to draw a line under this…….

————————————————————————————-

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Apparently some of you would like to be reminded that we make garments to measure….

And a bit of eye candy, no, no, no, not Emi, it’s all about me, me, me!

Volpe Night Out

I mean around all my travelling, ducking and diving, you want me to work as well. I’ll have you know I didn’t get into this to have a job it’s more of a role according to Boris, and only a couple of hours a fortnight at that.

A few days in Ibiza here, a weekend in Rome there, it’s as if you are trying to cramp my style!

Anyway, talking of style here are some photos of some outfits that I have put together, in order that you might have some idea of what I will mainly be wearing this summer.

These photos have already made an appearance on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter for those of you who stalk me in such places.

We finally have a full range of summer fabrics for suits, jackets, shirts and beach towels. As it’s not warm enough for beach towels I’ll post those later. I know I’ll only get a slew of “out of office” from those of you who spend more time reclining on a beach than I do.

I’ll keep you abreast of my exploits and travels at another point as we are only a few days in, and don’t worry I’m storing it up.

Goodness, if I have to put up with Neil and Eugene fighting who has the greater column inches each time I write  one of these things. Luckily neither on them would be seen dead in any of the things I am posting here!

And so you know it’s not just about jackets, because dahlinks they are so on trend! Heavens I must leave the little green fairee alone!

Look I’m only trying to sound down, and trendy with the kids, and their social media.

I wouldn’t want you to think that we’d forgotten about the suits…. the one above is particularly natty.

Finally here is a photo to show that I can sew. I know you only have my word for that, but I can and have in the past.

Me and the elves are capable of anything, suits, jackets, trousers, shirts, ties, socks, underwear, coats and anything else including beach towels, just ask!

I will defer to Bill Murray to finish, more or less.

When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Pimlico and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.

Dear, Dear Johnny and Dear, Dear Larry,

It’s a slightly old story, but it seems that ‘Boat People’ are not the only immigrants to fall foul of Australia’s anti-immigration stance.

Whether you arrive on a boat or private jet it appears no matter who you are, you may not be welcome if your paperwork is not in order. However if you are the rather cute Yorkshire Terriers belonging to Johnny Depp and Amber Heard the fate could be a lot worse.

So Johnny was there filming yet another Privates of the Caribbean extravaganza, this time aptly called Dead Dogs Tell No Tales.

I don’t how he could stop such small creatures climbing aboard a private jet, dogging security, hiding under the seats before arriving undetected in the land of Oz. You can’t blame dear, dear Johnny for that.

They they bypassed passport control and security, and headed off to a grooming salon, in Brisbane? Is that some kind of joke? Surely someone must have noticed these little chaps with their diamante collars skipping off across the tarmac to freedom, a spruce up and a blow dry!

Little did they know that Barnaby Joyce was on their case, he’d catch the slippery little suckers, incarcerate them and euthanize (KILL) them if they didn’t high tail it out of there by Saturday night.

Luckily the story has ended well for Pistol and Boo, by strange fortune they managed to escape from gaol, dash to the airport, and with moments to spare clamber aboard the last flight to LA by climbing up the retracting wheels as the plane left the tarmac.

Phew!

However if you are an extremely tired, migrating bird and are desperate for landfall, your tired wings unable to bear you any further, be warned if you are going to touch down in Oz.

Make sure your biosecurity passport is in order, your feathers freshly preened and please try to avoid the anti-aircraft batteries now being set up along the coastline by the Ministry of Agriculture.

Pistol and Boo

Of course there was plenty right and plenty wrong with this, but it did give me something to write about in the middle of the month!

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

So hardly had I got started with the iAdrian project than we’ve had to shelve one of the prototypes and seriously look at the rest of the project going forward.

It’s all well and good starting something like this due to the huge demand of people wanting to come back as me, but when the hardware and the software don’t work hand in glove, we are headed for difficulties.

So we have been in the media spotlight over the last couple of weeks.

I have standards to uphold and when the prototype goes off piste so dramatically, I am seriously thinking about cancelling the whole thing.

I suppose it is really down to the fundamental lack of understanding about how I behave. There is always going to be a black sheep, a bad apple, but at least let’s try and avoid that if at all possible.

So in order to set the record straight I should say that future prototypes will have to look seriously at their conduct and we are going tweak the i8 (all the pies and) chip, or replace it with the new German i9 version.

Artificial intelligence is all well and good, but there has to be a degree of intelligence, self-regulation and self-awareness. A certain standard should be set, and I have set these standards.

So it is not kooool (you can tell I’ve been in Paris!), to think you can replace red Lycra with an orange bra and leather jacket, you are not trying to dress like Wonder Woman!

Eiffel Tower

It is also not cool and more of a cliché to spill your ‘Sherbet Dib-Dab’ on a young ladies chest. As for paying for things, cheques are soooo passé and contactless payment seemed entirely inappropriate for this kind of transaction, so dear Lord for heaven’s sake pay with cash, it’s what rolled up notes are for!

I do not condone any of this behaviour and all future models of iAdrian will be fitted with a remote cut off switch, whereby any behaviour which I do not deem commensurate with the image of the brand will result in the immediate suspension of the account and prototype, any subsequent transgression; in termination.

At that point I will take your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle!

The whole premise of the iAdrian project was to produce a ‘Replicant’ of me that was more Harrison Ford, and less Mr Bean.

It will be fitted with a gyroscopic sensor that determines the nature of the Replicant’s movement and a failsafe device that will ensure that the iAdrian does not fail at any crucial point, also a proximity sensor to make sure no-one else is around to avoid embarrassment when anything does break!

Once again I have been travelling….

Chez Moi?

Yesterday I was sipping Pastis in Montmatre after a fact finding tour to see if I could add a Jazz appreciation app as part of the package.

If you appreciate jazz, this link is my friend Pat’s sister. Lovely girl, incredible voice, super talented, Sara will go far. Maybe with a little help from our friends!

https://soundcloud.com/sara-dowling/sets/from-shadows-into-light-album-sampler/s-pQZeC

and wine tasting?

So I wandered the streets of Paris in the small hours wearing my special beret, glass of absinthe in hand, following a little green faerie. On and on I walked, down narrow side streets until through the gloom I noticed a lantern above a door, a man with eyes like Marty Feldman stepped out of the shadows.

“Niccccceeee to see you both”, he said, and he ushered me into the labyrinth.

Down and down I descended into these caves beneath the Seine following this strange music, hypnotised, or just led by a bottle when suddenly I entered a dimly lit room, full of strange characters, a couple were dancing and a band were playing in a corner. This strange music called Jazz was trying to seduce me, was I undergoing some kind Daliesque transformation, the couple dancing were cutting some strange shapes, and I realised, I really had drunk too much absinthe.

They were Smokin’ as you can see by the proximity of the fire extinguisher to the drummer.

Slowly I floated to the surface to find myself lying on the beach at the side of the Seine, but what I realised was that it wasn’t all a surrealistic dream, or was it?

Had I now entered some sort of nightmare world? Is this how the French make a silk purse out of a Sow’s Ear, or at least the rest of the frog when you’ve taken his legs?

Frog minus Legs.

Despite the debacle over the iAdrian, I have begun to realise that I have become bestowed with super-powers. Beyond not suffering from hangovers, I am now able to walk through steel and glass.

I admit this has had less than 100% success rate. It has resulted in what some people have seen as bizarre and amusing incidents as I hone my powers, but I am starting to understand my limits and test them.

I have been most successful on the newest of tube trains, where I appear to be able to walk the entire length of the train unimpeded; also with doors when they are already open.

I still struggle with the older model of tube and closed doors which does result in me constantly banging my face against the glass like a persistent zombie, but I will succeed, and I have found that pushing, pulling, or even turning the handle on the door will allow me access through to Narnia.

Goodness the absinthe really has stayed with me this time!

Some of you have been asking me why I am not already in Ibiza. I am!

I sent out an updated prototype. We are still working on it, but one night at Amnesia and its memory was wiped… This aside the images being sent back show that it is having fun, in fact so much fun that I may have to go out and make some adjustments, this is likely to become a regular occurrence.

On or two people are a little worried that their faux pas will make it onto these pages, but I promise to keep your identity secret until, well what can I say, until you become famous?

I shall leave with some images of Paris at sunset. It took me a while, but eventually I was able to Photoshop out most of the graffiti!

New stock is already with us, plus a top-up of some summer fun. Photos will follow.

Ten reasons to visit Paris:

1: Jazz?

2: Absinthe

3: Caves

4: Inseinity

5: ……..

La Conciergerie

La Seine

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

A post with new stock will follow.

Sport appears to be imploding all around us and I wanted to wait a little for all the wailing, crying, backstabbing and recriminations to subside before commenting.

The strange game with the ball that is not round has finished, and we won what looks like a beautifully carved wooden spoon. So those of you who support other slightly less successful rugby teams, I can see you gazing on in envy…

A Welsh friend of mine who will remain nameless, Daffyd, his favourite flower being a daffydil, sent me a rather tasteless and pointless photo of a Welsh Dragon torching Twickenham. It makes a change of the last one he sent me of him surrounded by his sheep with the caption ‘My Hareem’. Revenge is a dish best served cold, apart from lamb, which I prefer pink!

I have spared his blushes and only posted the photo of the dragon.

Welsh Dragon?

And who’d have thought it 10/10 for the England footballers. Granted, not the most difficult group to qualify from, and my Nan’s Village Hall Eleven could have beaten Lithuania. Apparently Miles Storey may be spending his next loan session in my Nan’s team. So he will then have played at a City, a Town and a Village.

Young Mr Storey isn’t the only one getting around, Ibiza Neil is touring the Far East as ‘Emergency Tattoo Artist’ to David Morales and the crew. This I’m sure, is just in case mid set one of the DJs has a crisis of confidence and requires a little inkie touch up here or there.

I am a simple soul. So this made me smile.

Water on Mars

I took the new, massively hyped iAdrianS on a gentle bender (test). No, not a gender test.

The current model’s power cells are topped up by solar power, which is obviously one of the reasons why I need to travel so much, I will chase the sun like Icarus. A ‘Supermoon’ every 30 years is not good enough.

Supermoon

I hope that we may be able to do away with the solar feature at some point in the future, otherwise we will struggle to sell any beyond the Tropics of Capricorn and Cancer given the summer we have had.

Scorpio and my name is Adrian
Now I don’t like a woman that’s quiet
A woman who carries herself like Mr Universe

Mmm take my hand
Come with me baby, to Love Land
Let me show you how sweet it could be
Sharing loving with me
I want…………

Goodness me the absinthe is hanging around in my system! Float, float on…

Currently I am in talks with VW about a diesel powered version. They are little cagey about the data, but they have showered me with so many gifts, how could I say no?

A breakfast companion of mine is keen on getting her daily dose of Vitamin D, stripping off at the drop of a hat at the sun’s zenith, apparently whatever, wherever and whenever the moment takes her, she calls it her Martini moment, I know she’s not solar powered perhaps she’s just an exhibitionist, et moi?

Upward/Downward Dog – Regents Park

This lady also thinks that I am some kind of exotic, international playboy!

I’ll have you know that this lady is not Lorraine Chase, firstly that was Cinzano not Martini, and secondly I don’t fly from Luton Airport unless I am sedated.

The iAdrianS test was to involve the unit taking part in yoga on Mallorca, so hopefully the hardware and software should work in unison, just in time to blow the bloody doors off in Ibiza, closing parties? Pah!

The yoga was organised through friends of mine who have Sardinia Yoga, they provide yoga breaks in various locations in the Med, not just Sardinia, just in case you thought the iAdrianS mapping system and location services weren’t functioning correctly.

www.sardiniayoga.com

Yoga View – Cala D’or

Hotel View – Cala D’or

The training aspect of the trip was to involve cycling, so I would have got my Lycra fix. Given how poor the summer has been, I’ve had to wear a fat suit under the Lycra to keep warm on the bike, not my usual svelte look.

And should I have a problem with the firmware, I’ve brought along a little Papa Smurf to help…

For those of you who think I may be losing it by taking up yoga, I will warn you that as always I have an ulterior motive. I have yet to work out what that is, but come the end I will have worked one out! I mean it’s not as if there will be semi-clad people contorting themselves into strange and exotic positions. So another night at the Piers Gaveston Society looks as though it is on the cards, and Dave will be having the Suckling Pig!

That is before he sinks his pearly whites into Jezza.

It’s not going to be a seven course menu degustazione is it? Or more likely, a particularly small ‘amuse bouche’, or one of those sorbets to de-glaze your mouth between courses. Given that all around him are laying into him with gusto he will be nice and tender. Grind his bones to make my bread.

No trip to Mallorca is complete without a visit to 4 kilos

The yoga went well between the thunder storms, yet the cycling and running didn’t happen, the weather put paid to that. I changed hotels and headed north towards Pollenca, bad idea, on so many levels…

I’d hoped for some good weather to put the iAdrianS through his paces, but it was dull and by the time I had finished dinner in a lovely restaurant called Marisco in Can Picafort it was raining, and then it began to properly rain. I made it back to the hotel to be greeted by International Line Dancing Week.

http://restaurantemarisco.es/

No really, it’s true. At any one time there were 100 German men and women shaking their thing to ‘My Achy Breaky Heart’; when out the line stepped Daisy Duke, or will his name be Duke Daisy, a transvestite of well over six feet tall dressed as a blonde cowgirl. OMG.

I was having a conversation on Whatsapp with a young lady at the time, she asked for photographic proof, now she wishes she hadn’t, and is still being treated for shock.

So this has turned into a rather long, rambling newsletter, and there is no stopping me now, gathering no lichen…

Florence in the Rain

Storm clouds are building

After a long, damp day in Florence, I hopped on a train and headed through the Apennines. I followed this with a very late night fighting over a steak with Emanuele Putin in a misty Bologna.

As I walked towards the mystic portal, light surrounded me, a wooden door creaked open and I was warmly greeted by Vladamir Addone. What happened next is the stuff of folklore that has become Drogheria della Rosa.

Mystic Portico

The Portico Opens

Comrade Addone

So “Blatter, Valke and Platini”, sounds like a pawnbrokers; have all been suspended for a short period. One of them is very short, period! A source tells me that they have been placed in a sack with a snake to fight amongst themselves, on a boat to Australia. Let them deal with the immigration fallout from that one, and again ooooooh Mr Bond once they run out of food they will only be able to eat one thing; rat.

Clearly I’m using the newsletter to gear up for the launch of SPECTRE.

A little bird has told me that the former Toronto mayor Rob Ford is being ‘lined up’ to succeed Cepp the mushroom. Once again I am just throwing jokes around like confetti. Oh, how you spoil us your Excellency.

As his Excellency I now have a Palazzo all to myself in Bologna.

Palazzo Volpe

Finally when travelling by air, look around you.

On our approach to Florence, the woman next to me started to get excited, talking in an animated fashion into to her earpiece, something about looking for a clue.

In a flash, the Lycra lady leapt to her feet, shouted “Eureka”, opened the door to the plane and jumped out. The last thing I saw was her rear disappearing into the fresh air.

At no point did I challenge Anneka!

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Well, well, well. Word for word!

Daily Mail – 16th October

So let’s start with some new bags. We have the following colours in stock, but if you were contemplating a rainbow effect it can be arranged. The leather is soft enough not to chafe those delicately moisturised hands of yours, and if you are really worried there is a shoulder strap.

Red Calfskin Briefcase

Yellow Calfskin Briefcase

Blue Calfskin Briefcase

Green Calfskin Briefcase

Black Calfskin Briefcase

Orange Calfskin Briefcase

Dark Brown Calfskin Briefcase

Let’s start with a photo of a lovely lady draped in fur!

Scratchie

Thank you Neil for the lovely photo of Scratch and many congratulations on the work with ProHunter.

ProHunter and Inkadelic

So on with business…

SPECTRE – Pah!

Jose Mourinho, I have nothing to say…

And now I have another stalker, a couple in fact. They are constantly pestering me, vying for my attention. Each time I pick up my phone or go to type on my laptop they are there. What can I help you with?

Siri

I have been toiling over the VAT despite the attentions of Siri and Cortana when I should be treading grapes, hopefully one may lead to the other and since I’ve started on note for those oenophiles amongst you, I will add a little sulphur, a splash of ‘amster and an ‘int of elderberries.

A big thank you those who turned up for the wine tasting. Vash was on fantastic form, not a barrel tossed or broken, the wines equally so, a solitary white amongst the wintry reds.

Wine Tasting

You may have read it, but if not there’s been a little buzz about Volpe, in the meja, so to speak. No, no, no, my behaviour has not made front page news yet again, but there is time and there is Hope, and her friends Faith and Chastity.

The Three Graces, and me the 3^rd Duke of Wybourne in the Victoria and Albert Museum at 3am with my reputation. Oh daughters of Zeus save me from the gaze of Maggie, this Lady is not for turning!

Time Out and the Daily Mail have been keen to get my opinions on a whole gamut of news and social issues. So I’ll have to be careful what I say.

Should I knock the newsletter back a cog or two?

Do you really think so, or shall I continue as usual and try to “Blow the bloody doors orf”? As Cris my old school chum says, “It’s a bit too late to change”, he’s only 21 and in love. (Cris, you owe me a fiver).

I am still embroiled in my birthday celebrations and have no plans to shuffle off into the mists surrounding the moor quite yet. The party is just getting started. I will just hand Vash my glass, and like Tantalus I will be eternally tortured by the proximity of temptation…

The 4am parties will continue and there will be blurry photos of the London Eye as I try to beat the sunrise home. The whiff of sulphur will return, and the soft cushion of earth in my Transylvanian home will await me.

I feel like Claudius without the guile, avoiding Messalina who is armed with an axe, less Derek Jacobi and more Derek and The Dominoes. I’m losing this game to a bloke in a flat cap who keeps muttering into his wrist and bears a remarkable resemblance to Gary Kasparov, all his bones are doubles.

This might all sound a bit surreal, but the legacy of the little green fairy continues.

One my friends is a bit of a geezer, the kind of bloke who’d hang you by your ankles out of a ground floor hotel window, a little bit ‘Carny’, and not to be messed with. After sealing a recent business transaction, the other side in a show of mutual respect and appreciation ushered my friend to a lock-up in a slightly less salubrious part of town to furnish him with a gift, this gift was a full size merry-go-round horse, not just the head on a pillow. How an earth he’s going to get that home to Hong Kong I’ll never know, it’s not Pegasus!

Carnival

Once again I have managed to shoehorn in Greek Mythology and more of Zeus’s dysfunctional offspring.

It seems a slightly better deal than another friend who’s just invested in 1/8th of a cow. Saw him coming, cow racing? I didn’t even think ‘cow tipping’ was a sport!

And then there’s another strange fellow who mixes his Martini’s on the engine of his Ferrari, there is a video on YouTube. Of course there is!

I feel as once again I have stepped into the pages of Alice in Sunderland. It said “Drink Me”, and so I did. I was immediately afflicted with ‘small man syndrome’, and although perfectly formed, so no change there, the glass that Vash is holding looks like a swimming pool, is that Raquel Welch waving at me from the inflatable stuffed olive? Sorry, must dash my Fantastic Voyage continues.

Finally, a bit of publicity, a good friend of mine Henry Blofeld (not the Bond villain, but Blowers of cricketing fame) and Peter Baxter, being ably supported by the lovely Valeria are touring their hilarious ‘Rogues on the Road’. Catch them whilst they are out and about, and if any of you do fancy anything Blower’s related there is always:

www.blowersbespoke.com

Blowers and Baxter

ps. I’ve been in Rome, just in case you thought I’d not been anywhere!

It’s not me!

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

There is some new stock…

But read on!

I would like to inform of a little trip I shall be undertaking at the end of the month.

From the afternoon of the 29^th November I shall be in Hong Kong until late evening on Wednesday 2^nd December.

I shall be looking after the sartorial needs of several of my friends either based, living or just passing through. If you would like me also look after your sartorial needs whilst I am there, please feel free to get in touch. Hopefully I will have enough time to catch up with everyone.

You will be able to find me at The Landmark Mandarin Oriental, and not Christmas shopping.

I look forward to seeing you, sadly my suitcase is already full for those of you who were thinking of hitching a lift

Wool/Microfibre Gilet

Loro Piana Rain System Blouson lined in Faux Fur

My Football Coat: flannel parka lined with faux fur in Grey and then Blue

In Blue!

Microfibre 3/4 Coat

Microfiber Coat with removable liner in Grey and then in Blue

Surprise!!!

Io Sono Amore, I am Love.

An admirer sent me a film for Christmas.

Yes I do have an admirer. OK, OK, they are more of a stalker, but beggars can’t be choosers, and after Siri and Cortana anything is a bonus, but they did keep me company whilst updating to Windows 10.

Apparently in my apricot cashmere sweater I look like Tilda Swinton in the aforementioned film!!! Are you blind?

I am starting to get very worried, I suppose it could be worse, I could be the bunny in Fatal Attraction when I’d rather be dancing with Jessica Rabbit, or cuddled up under a throw with Pussy Galore.

If you are not interested in football, go off and make a cup of green tea now. Yes, I know it’s the written word so this will still be here when you get back, soldier on it’s not that bad.

Woe betide anyone who ventures across my path, Zoro has my back. Poor little Sepp appeared for his press conference sporting what could have been a duelling scar, or a souvenir from Saint Nick who takes no prisoners with the bad boys this time of year.

No one slaps me on the cheek with a white kid glove and gets away with it! On the other hand it could have been the spoke of an umbrella wielded by a very small person associated with Michel ‘The Bulgar’ Plantini. However as Sepp ‘The Mushroom’ is still with us, we will have to assume the former.

Zoro

Player power seems to be putting an end to managerial careers here, there and everywhere. Jose, poor Jose, and Luis Van Gaal, both appear to be suffering or have suffered from this ague. To give you a special insight into the everyday struggles in their world I managed to sneak into the Chelsea dressing room, and the Manchester United car park to see what has been going on.

It has been suggested that Simon Cowell is being lined up by Roman to replace Jose in the long term, make-up artists to replace club doctors and Julio Iglesias will take over from Rafa Benitez at Real Madrid, “When I begin, the beguine…….”

Chelsea?

Stretford End?

Then there is the referee Howard Webb, who said that there were fewer poor decisions made by referees on Boxing Day because they were chauffeured to their games. So not having to make a decision whether to turn left or right on their way to the game meant they were less stressed and improved their performance. I refer to my earlier posts about referees and as Aristotle said, ‘Quod erat demonstrandum’.

Now we need to spare a thought for young Luke Jake. It’s not about the parlous state of things at Wolves which we will gloss over using a matt finish, but about his attempt in true ‘Likely Lads’ fashion to avoid any mention of what might have happened in Star Wars XXIII, ‘The Force goes back to sleep again’.

He’s been walking round for weeks wearing noise cancelling headphones customized to look like antlers, and if by some terrible twist of fate he’s not had them on, just at the mere mention of his name, Luke Jake has stuck his fingers in his ears and started singing La, La, La as if he were Naughty Boy.

He has now seen the film, he seems much calmer.

I have been a busy boy, and, please don’t choke on your Corn Flakes. By ‘boy’ I mean it as a turn of phrase, not that I view myself as such. Although between the ‘potions’ and the silken hands of Raoul my therapist, I resemble a young Liberace!

I have been circumnavigating the globe, Florence, Bologna and Hong Kong, in a week. So Sam, dry your eyes I now have enough miles for a free latte in Waitrose.

Hong Kong

Hong Kong was a ‘Coals to Newcastle’ trip, to catch up with several VIPs, see Chic and Niles Rodgers, rub Udderbelly, and see the Anthony Gormley sculptures. It was short, intense and fun.

Chic

All set for a little cocktail party in my suite, and some dealings with the Carnie Folk.

Martini

Macaroons

I would like to thank everyone at The Landmark Mandarin Oriental for their magnificent hospitality and incredible levels of service, which all made it a very enjoyable and successful trip.

I will be back….

Apologies to anybody who got a scarf  for Christmas, that was way off. I have spent the Christmas period sporting a production sample of our new ‘Rudolph Mankini’, complete with red nose.

Top 10 presents I was made aware of this Christmas:

1: Dry Stone wall building course.

2: A delivery bike for a Volpe be-suited friend whose job it is to deliver his wife’s exotic, baked creations to cafes around our great metropolis.

3: A month’s adoption of a Mayfly for September!

4: A second eighth of a Cow, which made it a quarter.

5: A pint of double cream, because apparently he always forgets to buy it for the Christmas pudding.

6: Also a recipe for Bubble ‘n Squeak, sorry, sorry, a signed copy of Macbeth. Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and caldron bubble…. Back to the Premiership I see.

7: A Fashion Magazine in Chinese for an 11 year old nephew.

8: The Sepp close shave, heal that nick kit!

9: A new songwriter for Robbie Williams. I know, who he?

10: A new pair of spectacles for a football referee, according to Luke Jake it’s any of them.

11: A scarf?

As always I like to help a friend, and he offered me the car in exchange for this little uplift, I’m now headed for the Manchester United car park!

http://verticalproductions.co.uk/portfolio-items/new-audi-r8-v10-promo-2015/

As you all wonder how these get written, here is a further insight into my wonderful world. I’d like to thank Lyle Lovett for writing some of my favourite lyrics, and for showing that anything is possible; he was after all married to Julia Roberts.

If I had a boat I’d sail out on the ocean, and if I had a pony I’d ride it on my boat.

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

So let’s STOP the PRESS.

Zlatan Ibrahimovic (The World’s Greatest footballer) has spoken, he will stay at Paris St Germain if; if they replace the Eiffel Tower with a statue of him, the arrogance of the man. I admit I had to climb down from the top of my column in Trafalgar Square just to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me. Surely, the answer is in his name, it’s all about ‘him’.

Looking down on you?

It seems like and age.

Where have I been?

Writer’s block?

Have I been preparing for hibernation like a snake, fattened up for Chinese New Year, and Snake Soup?

Gong Hey Fat Choy.

Have I adopted the Northern European model of taking a mid-season break? Have I adopted a Northern European model?

Have I been travelling?

Is Donald Trump a catholic?

So since the last newsletter, it’s been Venice, Bologna, Florence, Rome and Hong Kong again, Rome, Florence,Bologna and The Wolseley!

I’d like to thank all of you I have shared a meal with, in each of those locations, hence the reference to snake soup, although they were eclipsed by Luk Yu Teahouse in Hong Kong and their house speciality Pig Lung and Almond Milk Soup.

I was discussing this with young Jason at The Wolseley this morning, as I tucked into my Marmite on toast; Jason prefers Bovril on his, because, and I quote, “I prefer something a little beefier!” Ooh, you are awful!

In Venice my favourite restaurant was shut for a month, as were so many others for a holiday. So pickings were scarce and the tide was high.

By Rialto, not Canaletto

So I bought these interesting over-boots which had a half-life of 2 hours and sprung a leak in the middle of Piazza San Marco, leaving me to hop glamorously to the nearest duck board and dry land!

I love Venice in January. The streets are quiet, at night the mist comes down, the waters rise, an eerie silence pervades the canals and I can put on a little red cape and scare people all I want!

It’s assumed that Venice shuts down at about 9.30 in the evening, but there are little, late night bars tucked away all over Venice. So, just when you think everyone has snuck off back to Mestre, you can turn a corner and there it is, a bar glowing neon in a darkened alley way and a final cocktail to take the edge off the chilly night air, and cut through the mist.

I wonder is ‘Venice Mist’ the same as ‘Scotch Mist’, or can you get mist anywhere?

New Boots and……

Gone Dollars?

Day view from my window

Night view

I prefer to arrive in Venice by train, but it was not to be this trip. I love the fact that you walk down the platform after ‘alighting’ from the train and step outside to be greeted by the Grand Canal, rather than Alan Clark (he of the dairies) in red trousers, hurtling past on a Boris Bike!

The next day I hopped aboard a train and headed for Bologna, Emanuele’s cooking and Florence for the Pitti Uomo Trade Fair.

There’s nothing on TV these days

Emanuele never ceases, never rests, he continues to produce consistently excellent food and an atmosphere and conviviality only matched by Issy at About Thyme, and Vash at the Cork and Bottle. It’s not only about the food, but about the people, the camaraderie, the conversations, not forgetting the food, time stands still, and the glass remains full.

Hard Cheese?

I was working on next Winter’s collection, and what goodies I have in store for you will have to wait until next winter we have to get through summer first.

The summer stock is starting to arrive, and some interesting new developments are afoot. These I will outline in a following emails.

I followed this up with a day trip to Rome, for nefarious reasons, a long way to go for lunch, but I had my reasons.

I must admit, it was a struggle.

It followed a Champagne tasting with Vash, where Ayala and Bollinger flowed as if it were a mountain spring, and a 1.30 am finish was followed by a dash in a taxi to the airport at 4.30 am!

But breakfast Pietrolucci style and lunch at Edy, had me functioning on all twelve cylinders again. I’m now chanelling my inner Alan Clark, who as we all know should have been Foreign Secretary, if only he could have got Maggie to listen to him, sadly he was too busy fantasising about her driving a tank!

He’d have told those damn Europeans where to go, put a portcullis, a draw bridge and a moat (all on expenses) at the end of the Channel Tunnel and had this country back on it’s feet whilst doing donuts in his XK120 outside Fortnum and Mason.

Is that Mrs T in the passenger seat looking a trifle green?

Strawberry Fields forever

On the Saturday night I headed for Hong Kong to look after my growing group of friends and clients there.

Once again home was The Landmark Mandarin Oriental, and they do there very best to make it feel like home. So much like home, that the room had a dessert fridge, doesn’t everyone have one?

Dessert Fridge?

Now back on Terra Firma, I shall be adding further cities to my list, so if anyone requires my services in another location, I will entertain the thought!

More emails to follow, with lots of new stock.

Copyright © 2016 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Mothers!

Mine will be 88 in a few weeks. So I felt it might be a good idea to spend a few days with her because on the actual day I will no doubt be in Ibiza, celebrating it on her behalf!

However, the weekend did create a few interesting moments.

Some of you will have heard me tell of her epic levels of fitness, and the 80 steps she climbs at least once a day to her front door. It is not a pilgrimage worshipped, but a trip to recycle the empties! She’d raise a glass to that.

In my case, the grape didn’t fall far from the vine.

Living in Somerset, getting around can be problematic, the local bus company has just gone bust and taxis are few and far between. So if my brother and I are ‘Casa Mama’ she likes to get out and about.

This last weekend was glorious, long days, cloudless skies and warm sunshine.

On the Monday we went to the Valley of the Rocks in Lynton and my mother decided she was going to walk the South West Coast Path. The path although tarmacked, is only 3 feet wide with a sheer drop of 300 feet to the sea below on one side, and has no railing. Mum set off at a pace that would have Paula Radcliffe breathing hard.

Valley of the Rocks – The South West Coast Path

I jogged along at her shoulder for well over a mile ensuring she didn’t make a hasty Brexit, then she ignored my offer of directions and we ended up a mile from the car. This lady wasn’t for turning, so whilst she sat and sipped a cup of Earl Grey, I jogged back to fetch it.

Mother, you want to walk WHERE?

http://blackvenusinn.co.uk

I have oft complained that there is nowhere local to my mother for a decent meal, but it seems times have changed. OK, my mother doesn’t drive; thankfully, and Challacombe is too far to go for an evening meal, however it was a wonderful treat for us.

On the list next time for mum and a must, is Reeves in Dunster. Absolutely fantastic is all I can say; the fact the sun was shining and we were sat in a walled garden dating back to the Norman Conquest looking at Dunster Castle only added to the pleasure of it. I shall pack mum into a taxi, or worse still get one of her octogenarian friends to drive her, the Yarn Market opposite has been standing for nearly a millennium, what could happen?

http://www.reevesrestaurantdunster.co.uk
At least you’ll read about it here!

Before you ask, I have been abroad this month; I may have been to Ibiza. 

Yes OK, twist my arm, it’s where I started the month. But now you’ve got me started!

Haircut?

Queen Scratch

The mighty man at work. His genius is his art.

Inkadelic

Is that the Bus Stop?

However there is a German Schloss devoid of 15ft of BB Italia leather sofa, tables and chairs, how all that fell off the back of lorry I’ll never know!

My feet had barely touched the ground, when I headed for Florence and Milan. Cloth from Andrea for a lucky few and Milan for ties.

So ice cream… Ooops

Fondente!

SPQR – Monica Bellucci

Sapphire rings.

Should have put a ring on it…

I stayed at Fifty Eight Suite in Milan. Guys, superb thank you so very much. Comfort and style in the centre of Milan.

http://www.fiftyeightmilano.it

On the way back

May has also been cultural. An evening of Mozart’s Requiem, by candlelight in St. Martin’s in the Fields and a scary afternoon watching of watching a dozen Punch and Judy shows, tucked away in Covent Garden. Oh no you didn’t, Oh yes I did, and I have the mental scars to prove it!

Mozart – He shoots, he scores

Mental Scars

Carp Beach Towel – SOLD OUT

Crane Beach Towel

Sundae Lunch

After those of you who thought last month’s photo was of me, this is not my Mother!

Not Mother!

Following last month’s newsletter, I have had a note from my accountant asking me to stop wasting jokes. He said it costs too much money and I should know better.

Oh, what a joyless life I live!

Then that’s the problem with accountants, they are always ganging up on me, apparently there is safety in numbers!!!

I have set up new collaboration with a luggage maker in Italy.

The first pieces have now arrived, and the results are spectacular.

Made in a very soft brown calf leather and trimmed with orange leather handles and stitching they are limited to 3 pieces in each design.

Inside they are lined with brown cotton canvas and orange leather trim.

So firstly; for the man who has everything, a shirt carrier at £295

Shirt Carrier

Secondly: a computer bag at £450

Computer Case

Thirdly; a carry-on wheelie at £750

Carry On

Then there is of course the wedding photo!

Wedding Photo

And finally the Roll Bag, that isn’t a Roll Bag, but a suit carrier priced at £690. Sadly these are either all sold or on hold for people. I may make some more, in the same colour because of demand, but it will only be another 3, we will then change the colour combination.

Not a Roll Bag

It’s a suit carrier

Copyright © 2016 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Once again I am asked how I come up with these phantasmagorical tales.

Well let me tell you.

You leave a couple of politicians in charge of the magical lantern and suddenly they are projecting all sorts of frightening images onto the wall, playing with our imagination, fuelling our fears, creating a farrago, until in their frenzy to outdo each other, they knock the magic lantern over and then scarper, blaming each other for burning the theatre down.

I think we drew the short straw.

The Italians have opera, which is their theatre drawn from real life, the Japanese; Kabuki with their exotic make-up, masks and songs, the Mexicans have their wrestling with its exotic make-up, masks and songs, just ask Donald; and the Welsh have Gareth Bale.

We have on the other hand have got the “The Good Old Days” back, with Leonard Sachs and all the pathos of a smug pug singing the “Marseillaise”. Apparently we have our country back?

Long, lazy days of doing sweet FA, not unlike our premiership superstars. Drinking cider in the parks, fighting like the Inter City Firm, no grudge too small, no boots too big, all in the days before love and ecstasy. How bizarre to see a smile on everyone’s face.

I owned an Austin Allegro with its oddly shaped, square steering wheel and it didn’t matter if it was made on a Friday, it was a dreadful car on whichever of the 3 days a week it was made. I think it ran on coal, and the suspension was made out of elastic bands.

Now admittedly if I was dragged back to “The Darling Buds of May” and Catherine Zeta-Jones was my Cherie Amour I might view it as a lovely summer day, but 1976 was a long time ago, and there is only so much rolling around in the hay one can do. Quiet, anybody who thinks they know better!

How the nostalgia seeps up through cracks in the pavement, and it will, but we have moved on.

With the French in charge of EDF, the Germans owning nPower and Eon UK, the Spanish, Scottish Power, to paraphrase ‘The Sun’; “If common sense does not prevail, will the last person to leave Britain please blow the candle out!”

I am fascinated to see how nasty politics has become. Perhaps they have been trapped in the underworld for a very long time with Perseus, drinking absinthe and caustic soda, watching endless repeats of Eastenders.

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment was stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out.

If only I could get him to give Boris’s bike puncture!

Now, is not the time for politicians to enter into philosophical discussion, it is time to run. The masses now have pitchforks and the politicians are looking a lot like Wicker Men.

Anyway I shall head back to Ibiza, and Hedonism not Hades, I know where my priorities lie.

I will not be staying in the new rural hotel bocadilloed between the club DC10 and the airport. It is called ‘In Flagrante’. So if you are spied in ‘delicto’ it will be by drugged up clubbers from 500ft landing at 3am. I supposed you might say. “Only in Ibiza”.

Since May’s newsletter I have visited the island a couple of times. The first trip involved Neil, Tony and myself spending the night in the DJ booth at Pacha with a young, up and coming DJ called David Morales. The best set I have ever witnessed, below are a couple of photos.

Can you call me back, I’m working

Needin’ U

It finished very late! As it did every night, and I will admit to falling asleep for 20 minutes at the bar, Itaxa at 6.30am, where they serenaded me into slumber with a Spanish guitar. The eighty year old lady, who owns it, gave me a tea towel for a pillow! Tony’s eyes were open, but don’t sharks sleep that way?

We visited a bar called Exis owned by Birgit a German friend and she has a wall covered in photos of clients over the years. It was a poignant reminder of losing my dear friend Richard, 5 years ago, and how many of the faces that stare out from these photos are still with us?

The photo speaks for itself.

The Wall

We enjoyed the usual birthday celebrations on Formentera, and after 6 litres of vodka, this spider saw a fly and the hypnotic spray from the wake of the boat sped us from one paradise to another.

Fly

Spray

June is easily the best month in Ibiza, the sea not too crowded, nor the restaurants or bars, people are still calm. Neil is still drinking green tea, before the triple espresso, high octane ‘cafe caleta’ season starts.

As in the past I have used trips to Ibiza to avoid going to Pitti Uomo in Florence. This may be the final straw, and why I may never go again. I also re-iterate, this is not me. It is so wrong on so many levels and in what world does this person think this looks acceptable. There are moments in fashion where you realise that the vogue has reached a tipping point and those teetering on the brink will tumble into the sea to be dashed against the rocks, dresses made out of newspaper, anything with a medusa’s head, shoes that make you walk like Dick Emery and braces that look like a ‘Mankini’ for a dandy!

Brace yourself

Lastly a sunset, because we have been bereft of suns a setting, lords a leaping, seven swans a swimming, I have been lucky with the ladies dancing, but one makes ones own luck? Unless you are sharing a table in a restaurant; some will know this story, the rest can only guess at how I might have been transformed!

And a Jakeism to end – Christmas is now closer than the last New Year. Joy, thy name is Time!

Copyright © 2016 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.