Daily Archives: October 24, 2012

Big Oil – by Tom Bower.


I read this book very recently. Tom Bower is a British investigative author. His works are ususally highly unflattering about their subjects. In this he lifts the lid on the oil industry. He admits at the outset that he is something of a naif when it comes to the oil business. He then immerses himself in the oil patch. If he is to be believed he gained access to many of the top people among the supermajors – that is to say the seven largest oil coporations on earth.

His writing style is fairly descriptive considering that this is not a work of literature. He has a journalist’s nose for a defining trait of a a person. He looks a lot at Lord Browne. John Browne – as he was born – is half British and half Hungarian-Jewish. Being a diminutive homosexual Cambridge graduate he was not cut from the same cloth as many of the towering Texans who dominated the oil world. In the 1960s he must have been very discrete about his proclivities.

The book was fairly interesting but it was hard not to skip some pages.  He lays bare the political  intrigue that is connected to the oil world.

He claims to know that the Dutch Prime Minister and Putin went into a room in the Mayor of Amsterdam’s official residence for a one-to-one in German with no others present. If this is right then he must have extraordinarily good contacts.

He notes the dilemma afflicting oil majors. Do they stand aloof from the affairs of a country such as Nigeria and get accused of being socially irresponsible? On the other hand should they insist that their money go on this and that and then be castigated for interference? It is a catch 22 situation.

The book does not seem to come to clear conclusions. It was less enjoyable than his book on Mohammad Fayed.


”The Accursed Mountains” – a review.


This tome was penned by an intrepid Briton. The middle aged had had a peripatetic childhood and with a smattering of languages braved the wilds of urban Albania as well as its lawless mountains. The year was 1996. I ventured into that country in the year of grace some two thousands and six. I considered this a deed of derring do even a decade hence from his journey. When he went there only an imbecile or a travel writer would risk life and anal virginity travelling into the wild, wild not-so-east.

He seems to have mastered some Albanian. His spare prose conveyed the desolation of the place. He enlivens the drab scene from an impressive palet of lexis. Albania is a land unknown to technicolor. Grey, beige, off-white, a sickly pale green, yellow and mawkish blue are the best one can hope for in buildings. The country is liberal only in its piles of street litter.

When this man went gangsterism was rife. Male chauvinist attitudes were openly proclaimed. The bloke does not seem to have entertained a percipitiously high impression of Albanians. Almost every one of them was on the make and on the take. Begging was the benevolent alternative to outright thievery. There was a dependency culture building up on Western aid. Brutality was the order of the day. Savage punishments were casually meted out for even the most trifling misdemeanour as the only means to prevent utter turmoil.

The code of family honour was observed with a ferocious zeal. The slightest slight to a family’s esteem was met with swift and condign punishment.

The country was dysfunctional. It came across as an exceedingly depressing place. Honesty was considered a stupid vice. Any Albanian who could run, jump or swim was desperate to be shot of their native land. A bearded homosexualist I know told me that Albanians often went to Greece to be rent boys.

It seemed odd that such a lettered man would wish to spend such a long time in a country that had little to offer by way of culture. He could do without creature comforts with the single exception of cigarettes. These were in no short supply. Indeed they were about the only thing of which this damnable land had a superabundance. He met only one man who did not partake of tobacco. He remained in this scarred land owing to his wish to gather material for his most evocative travelogue. The dramatis personae of his riveting tale is made of mountebanks, corner boys, aid workers, missionaries, probable American spies, mousy women, contemptible bullying fathers and many peeople in piteous circumstances. Occasionally he met a desirable and cultured young lady but the majority of the people he came across were bullies and crooks with a surpassingly bad taste in clothes.  It was hard to say anything positive about the country beyond its scenery.

Peruse this intriguing book and you will bless the Almighty that you did not have your nativity in such a ghastly country.

Babes of the world.


It is apt to compose a valentine to girlkind. I do not like the word ‘woman’ overmuch – it is middle aged and frumpy. I am a boy – if that allays any feminist paranoia about being condescending.  Here are some the the renowned babes to whom I take a shine.


Donna Air.

This one time star of Biker Grove was unknown me until I was about 18 and she hit it big fronting a show for MTV. She is a gorgeous and homely – never conceited.  She seems down to earth and effortlessly stunning. She comes across as real, warm and approachable. I like her figure – she is slender without being unhealthy. I like her brown-blonde mass of hair and her delicate yet not fragile features. Her Geordie accent is mild enough not to be off putting.


Scarlett Johanson.

I remember a schoolboy asking me in 2006 whom I considered to be the hottest girl on the planet. I named the said Scarlett. She is a bit of a scarlet woman in what she wears. Pillar box red lips offset her outfits. She has beestung hips and extraordinary poise. I like her complexion and her shape. She is perhaps overly opinionated and I disliked her scathing vitriol against George W Bush. I would never have her down as being a half Jewess – and no I am not an anti-Semite. She comes across as more Nordic and yea she is half Danish. I fancy Jewesses too – of which more later. Scarlet is such a temptress. I did not like the look she put on when she played that part in a film set in Japan opposite Bill Murray. She played a slob.


Natalie Portman.

She is the thinking man’s babe. This delightful brunette Harvard graduate was a research assistant to Professor ALAN Dershowitz. Her Zionism is a little strident but this does not detract from her wiles. She is cerebral and beautiful in equal measure. There is no contradiction between the twain. I like her skin tone – her liquid eyes and her perfect figure. She dresses in a ladylike manner.


Cat Deeley.

She was such a looker though maybe leggy. In February 2011 I was in Kensington Gardens and a photographer was waiting outside a top end restaurant. This lanky babe swanked out in all her short silk finery. I asked him who it was – it was none other than the ever bubbly Cat Deeley.


Katy Perry.

Marrying that complete prick Russell Brand must count to her debit. But she is very attractive. She is tall, sassy and busty. I like her black locks and her vivid eyes. She has such a healthy complexion. I like her catchy songs and her fun personality. She is risque but never whorish. Her bi try anthem – I kissed a girl and I liked it – inspired a generation of babes to get their boyfriends’ juices flowing by lezzing off in public. For that alone she deserves a Nobel Prize.


Beyonce Knowles.

This radiant lady is breathtaking. I remember what she looked at 18 when she sang Crazy in Love. She struts so arrogantly across a car park clad in a crop top and denim hots pants. Those bright red heels set off her fulsome thighs and perfectly formed calves. Only she could writhe around a wooden deck and make it look stylish. I like her aesthetically ecstatic face and her ample bosom. At 18 she was perhaps a trifle too skinny. I liked it in Survivor when she pranced around the jungle in animal skins. The mock camouflage did not ring my bell quite so much.  Her skin tone is perhaps a shade too pallid for my taste. But as for the mulatta she is the perfect match. I like black girls who are properly black. Pregnancy made her beauty blossom. Her soaring anthems and spellbinding lyrics have endorphins inundating my frontal lobe. If there is a goddess it is her.



Katherine Jenkins.

This Welsh songbird is a lady of exceptional beauty and talent. She is self-assured but does not have a haughty mien. Her long, luscious locks and gleaming eyes exude enchantment. She wears long silk dresses that are low enough to indicate there is a more earthy side to her. She comes across as very genuine. She is self-assured but never conceited. Her buxom figure and full lips ooze sexuality. She has pretty skin that is perhaps a touch too tanned. She is the thinking man’s totty. Her sonorous chorals and winning stage presence add up to truly fantastic girl. I admire her on all levels. She is soulful and pure without being virginal. I have seen footage of her in a barely there dress singing God Save the Queen at a racecourse. It felt wrong to be standing to attention as my old fellow was also standing to attention. She radiates kindness and a soulful sexuality.



Natalie Horler.


This full bodied English blonde bombshell is gifted in the gay science. She belts out some jumping tunes. Her elan vital and gleaming, mesmerising eyes are winning. Her perfect complexion, confidence and natural style have me agog. This siren is joyful. I like watching the video of her getting 10 000 revellers in a Berlin nightclub crying out for more. The fedora hat was a fashion crime but the knee high black leather boots complimented her thick thighs. Those hot pants were a treat and her skin tight silver boob tube was choice. At would have been better if at the crescendo she has torn off her top to reveal her uberous cans. She is a splendid girl.