The P & O Chronicles Volume 2

INDIANA SLOPE

AND THE TOILET OF DOOM

DAY ELEVEN

07.30

We are in Odessa today.

I notice that I headed yesterday¹s diary Day Nine when it was Day Ten.
So this really is Day Eleven.

No suggestion here that excessive alcohol and terminal heart burn can
hinder brain functioning.

I also see that I referred to the fact that we were in Yalta ³on the
coast of the Ukriane².

Given that we are onboard a 75000 tonne 300 metre long boat you had
probably worked out that Yalta was on the coast.

Anyway this is the eleventh day and we really are in Odessa.

The boat is parked at the foot of The Potemkin Steps made famous by the
film of the same name.

Breakfast and a couple of fags ahead and then ashore as part of a guided
walk around the city.

Those of you who know me well will not believe this but I am now having
muesli for breakfast every day. I know it¹s the food of Satan but I¹m
getting quite used to it and it doesn¹t give me heartburn.

The food and drink on this boat are non-stop and I seem to remember that
when I got back last year it took me about three weeks before my stomach
felt normal hence the attempt at a healthy start to the dayŠŠŠŠŠ.. as
it will undoubtedly be down hill from here as always.

09.30

P. & O. describe today¹s tour as walking tour which is not suitable for
people with mobility problems.

So no surprise whatsoever when we turn up at the coach to the usual
mixture of lame and infirm pensioners.

I¹m half expecting to meet Stephen Hawking when we get to Palma.

This is going to be a long morning.

09.45

The old, slow moving, irritating and in some cases smelly old folk are
finally on the bus and we are ready to go.

Do you get the distinct impression that it¹s time I came home before I
kill a wrinkly?

09.50

Our tour guide introduces himself to us all.

The old folk immediately comment ³What a nice young man².

Indiana and I spot very quickly that he is in fact a raging poofter who
makes Julian Clary look like Jean Claude Van Damme.

He is the best kind of gay man, he camps it up marvellously and treats
us to a song before we¹ve even left the P. & O. berth.

As we leave the port we see countless uniformed Ukrainian officials,
either Police or Military, heading for the boat.

For a moment I¹m hopeful that the Ukraine might have some kind of forced
euthanasia for irritating old bastards who¹ve been getting in my way in
the lift for the last two weeks, but they are probably just immigration
and customs people I suppose.

10.30

In horrendous traffic our coach has finally made the 1 mile trip from
the port to the city centre. We¹ve eventually got everyone off and are
ready to begin the walking tour.

It¹s more of a ³shuffling up the middle of the pavement getting in
everyone¹s way and causing general chaos tour² than a walking tour but
you know what I mean.

Our Pet Shop Boy explains to us that 4000 new cars a month are being
brought into Odessa but there are no parking restrictions. In
consequence the traffic is a major problem regularly grinding to a
complete halt.

A large proportion of the new cars are very big indeed. They are always
black and are usually a Lexus or a Mercedes or failing that an enormous
4 x 4 with blacked out windows.

The average salary in Odessa is £400 per month yet you cannot move for
£50000 cars.

Our guide explains that Ukraine used to have a problem with the mafia.
He explains that it is no longer a problem as the mafia are now in the
government!

This will explain the cars.

11.00

As we walk around Odessa we see a mix of modern well equipped buildings
and the good old Soviet Union stuff which is hardly fit for human
habitation (unless you happen to be taxi driver called Alex that is).

There seems to be a vast gulf in this place between the haves and the
have nots.

Our shuffling group of superannuated oldies sticks out like a sore thumb
and we are clearly regarded as the haves as opposed to the have nots.

In consequence we are constantly hassled by young Ukrainians trying to
sell postcards, postage stamps and souvenirs of all kinds.

They all speak good English and most understand a firm ³no².

Indiana however persists in trying to speak Russian and they simply look
bemused. No doubt he¹s still using Arabic or Welsh.

11.30

One rather fat young man is far more persistent than the others and will
not go away. He insists that I must buy his wares and takes to grabbing
my arm each time I try to walk away.

He tells me that he needs money to go to College. His hopes are raised
when I decide to stop and talk to him.

I ask him how good his English is, he proudly tells me it¹s very good.

I therefore speak very clearly and slowly and suggest that the money he
clearly spends on pies should be saved for college and that if he grabs
my arm again I will fucking hit him.

He goes away.

12.00

We stop for coffee and to enable the old buggers to empty their
colostomy bags, have a sit down and generally enjoy a group moan.

Our guide disappears into the coffee shop where he can be seen enjoying
a drink and holding hands with another Ukrainian bandit of the bum.

We are joined by Stephen the classical pianist on board Oriana for this
cruise. A painfully shy but immensely talented man he admits that the
stuff he plays for P. & O. passengers is such shite that he doesn¹t even
have to rehearse it.

The reason he does two or three cruise ships a year is that they pay him
handsomely and give him a top of the range cabin with a practice
keyboard.

He does 4 one hour recitals whilst on board and spends the rest of the
time eating like a king and rehearsing for proper concerts in England
and around the world.

Smart bloke.

12.45

This place is heaving with the most gorgeous young women. It¹s easy to
see why there is such a buoyant trade in internet brides from the
Ukraine.

Apparently beautiful young women have long been a feature of the area.

The pianist and myself are quite happy to ogle the passing girls and
mutter the occasional ³look at the arse on that² but Indiana is
insistent upon telling us the history of slavery in this part of the
world.

The Turks used to pop up here with an empty boat fill up with amply
proportioned nubile women and then head back to re-stock the harems.

Sort of a boobs cruise I suppose.

13.00

We board our coach for the short trip back to the boat. The overwhelming
impression of Odessa is that it is up and coming in a big way. It¹s a
stunning place with beautiful beaches and views and I think will become
the next boom area for buying property abroad mafia permitting.

13.15

As we arrive back at the boat our guide gives us a rousing chorus of ³I
will survive² before mincing off into the sunset bizarre!

13.45

I normally avoid the Conservatory Restaurant at lunchtime as it¹s full
of old folk pushing and shoving as I¹ve mentioned already. However after
our slow trudge around Odessa I¹m hungry and decide to risk it.

There is a wide choice of fare to which you help yourself. Hot dishes on
one side, cold on the other.

I¹m not sure what to have so I wander over to have a look at what¹s on
offer.

I am immediately elbowed roughly by some old girl from the north with
purple hair and tattoos who remonstrates with me for not having a plate.

I endeavour to explain that I am simply looking when she shoves me again
and turns to her husband to point out that I don¹t have a plate.

³Look he¹s got his cock in his hand² might give cause for her to be
annoyed but ³look he¹s got no plate², well I¹m baffled by this.

Everyone knows that I¹m travelling with Indiana. I am therefore somewhat
constrained and cannot give her the benefit of my views on old women
from the north for fear of recriminations for his career with P. & O.

Instead I opt to turn to the nice old gentleman with her and to enquire
³Is this your wife?²

Somewhat sheepishly he confirms that she is I simply shake his hand and
tell him ³I¹m sorry to hear that².

The old girl is now incandescent with rage at this obvious insult and is
gagging for an argument so wandering off seems the best course of action.

If I ever change careers I must avoid working with old folk.

As I make my way to another eatery for fear of getting a cake fork in
the back of my head I notice that all the Ukrainian uniformed officials
I saw earlier are in the restaurant.

The food in the Ukraine is very limited and there must be 20 or 30 of
them on board eating plate after plate of the kind of food they simply
can¹t get at home.

These folk are all armed so probably better equipped for eating in The
Conservatory than most!

15.00

Indiana lectures in The Pacific Lounge so time for his loyal and hard
working assistant to go for a kip. Half an hour should recharge the
batteries.

18.00

Obviously insulting old women is more tiring than I thought.

Time to get showered suited and booted for the night ahead.

The usual seven course dinner followed by an audience with Syd Little.

Having had a few beers with him I really hope he¹ll do well as he¹s a
smashing bloke, but I fear he¹s likely to be crap.

19.00

Ready for dinner but with an hour to kill so I decide to spend it in the
casino.

People are losing scary amounts of money all around me. The old boy next
to me has put £100 in a slot machine in the time it¹s taken me to win
£10.

When you get chatting to the decent old folk, and there are some, it¹s
apparent that these folk worked hard all their lives and managed to
retire and claim their occupational pensions before Gordon Brown got his
hands on them.

Where the next generation of well to do retired working class people
will come form it¹s hard to see.

21.00

The octogenarian Reenie is in fine form at dinner and bores us solidly
for the whole time we are with her.

She¹s perfectly nice but she¹s a bit forgetful and she¹s now repeating
her stories either that or she¹s very unlucky and lost three brothers
during the war on the same dam busters mission.

It could be worse though, at least I¹m not having to listen to Indiana
explain about the social make up of Nelson¹s navy.

22.30

Take my seat in the theatre to see my new mate Syd Little.

My fears were well founded.

00.00

To the bar where we now regularly meet each night for this ships version
of Club 18-30.

Club 45-60 the fresh faced young things on the boat sharing a half of
lager and an amusing anecdote about blood pressure pills.

I hear one lady complain to her husband that the wind was windy today
he said sorry!

01.00

Off to bed to dream of how I will fill the next three days at sea
without lobbing an old lady overboard.

Indiana who complains every day that he can¹t sleep is, as usual, fast
asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He tells me he can¹t sleep he can.

He tells me he doesn¹t snore and fart he bloody does.
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