Tag Archives: figjam

Busting at the seams

Its a bug bear.  You find a coffee shop and place your order.  The girl behind the counter asks you for your name, even though you have asked for your coffee to stay (in a proper cup, not that disposable crap). I have a strong dislike (SJ) for this.  Take my order, take my payment but why do you need my name?

Has there been an epidemic of thefts in coffee shops that I missed being reported on John Cravens Newsround?  I doubt it.

Today, I gave my name as ‘Queen Latifah’.  The girl looked at me quizzically for a moment before realising my game and smiling.


En route to sunny Portugal this morning.  Looks like I have a buyer for the love shack down in Sagres. Landing in Faro soon and then off to the bank in Lagos to watch a young couple transfer some euros to me and then sign the pre sale agreement.  Just in the nick of time with brexit looming.

Motorway was blissfully quiet at 4am, almost had a heart attack when the satnav told me I had missed my turn for Gatwick.  I was sure I hadn’t, turns out I was right.  That sat nav needs updating.

Here’s hoping for a drone free departure.  Back tomorrow night before heading for a weekend spa with my bird.

Back to work on Tuesday, setting sail soon for Athens.


Visited Eden in Cornwall over christmas.  Never been before and its fair to say, I won’t be heading back.  Check out the photo below of the special light show that was planned for my visit.

After looking around for a few hours, we waited patiently for the light show to start.  Eventually, I went to the information point to ask what time it all kicked off, only to be told ‘it has been running all day’.

What !!  £62 to see a light show that I hadn’t even noticed was turned on,   £10 for a burger and chips…….! Nah, Eden, you are not for me.  Huge disappointment.  Shame on you.


The flyer below promised so much.  In reality, there was nothing to see, absolutely nothing.  What a con.




I did manage to catch up with Alex Clifton, AKA Alex Faggotpants, AKA Mr. Brittas while in Cornwall though.  A coffee and a chat at the once majestic Blue Bar in Porthtowan.  Blue has changed a lot since my last visit probably 15 years ago or more.  Used to be one of those sand on the floor, post surf party holes that Hollywood try to mimic in their movies.  It was a cool place.  Now, just full of the london jet set, all guff, FIGJAM’s and skinny mocha choca gluten free soya iced lattes.

And they call that progress.  The human race is doomed.

FIGJAM’s across the Equator

Figjam Bob – Now I haven’t seen him for a while but coincidence is ironic, especially on an epic sea adventure.

I last saw Figjam Bob in the ‘Roachie Café’, in Palma de Mallorca, maybe 4 years ago now. I say ‘saw’ but as will all good figjams, we mean ‘heard. If you can imagine a busy, male dominated spanish Café full of dock workers at the 10am morning break – the noise is horrendous, metal legged chairs scraping across hard tile floors, a dozen dockers all shouting at each other but still sounding just like Speedy Gonzales. Suddenly, as if by magic, the shop keeper appears and it’s Figjam Bob.

At first, I hear him, that unmistakable voice raising above the rest of the café. He’s on the other side of the room too, propping up the bar with his next, so far unsuspecting victim, Figjam is in full flow, wanking on about how good he is, loud enough for all to hear.

FIGJAM – Fuck I’m Good – Just Ask Me !!!

On a lighter note, we crossed the equator yesterday. For those of you that have never done it (and I think that will be a lot of you) I have now officially been closer to the sun than you !!! Naturally, it was as disappointing as a bowl of bran without any fruit in it. There wasn’t a painted line on the ocean surface, no signage suggesting 1mile to the equator and to top it all off, no fireworks as we crossed. On the other side of the equator, there was much more of the same – blue sea water. I quickly made an experiment, the plug hole experiment. For years, I had been lead to believe that in the southern hemisphere, the water drains anti clockwise into your plug hole. I had even recently seen a TV programme on it.

Lexa had warned me however – that this was nothing more than an old wives tale – she was spot on and she isn’t even an old wife! So all in all, my quest to sail in the southern hemisphere has been a flat out disappointment.

I do however, have several T shirts waiting for dispatch to the Magnificent 7 when I finally get home. Verity Smith – I am still waiting for your address.

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