Bananas are the naughty fruit.

There is many a slip twixt thought and tongue, or somewhere.
“I lill get da lubber glubs, Colonel San!”

You know we used to have a couple of Japanese café’s and the wifey, being a Japanese kind of girl, in fact entirely Japanese, thought it would be great to call the first one er, “Paranoid”. No, that’s a bad idea, hence the lack of eating establishments named after mental and personality disorders or skin diseases. But you know, it seemed perfectly hip and swingin’ to Miss Kabuki Saturday night in Ginza, meets Jerry Lewis.

“Good evening sir. Would you care to see the menu?”

“Why are you asking me? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

For a while I saw that a fruit and vegetable supermarket would be useful, if only for the chance to fondle so many firm yet pliant shapes.

“The fruit? You can’t handle the fruit!”

And that’s what I like about wifey, the innate Japanese thang, and with her preference for the Western, especially a place like New York. Ah, the Big Apple. New York is my favourite citrus named metropolis and we will get there, eventually. We already have the suitcases and with air holes they’re big enough for all of us!

The wifey tends to have a perspective that one could never imagine, and this can stop things getting rather er, dull, and without the slightly creepy all in the mind Western prone obsession for all things Asian. The great mystery of the East is that there really is none. Things are much as they appear, even the hidden…Continue reading on Colonel Robert Neville Always Dresses for Dinner >>