So the current Mrs Briss is at scouse Butlins (thrown a sickie) and has declared herself unfit for duty.

Therefore his indignant lordship Herr Briss finds himself packing his own trunk.

Can you imagine my demeanour.

However Briss is a seasoned traveller and knows full well that ones ironing is best handled at the other end by that sweet Phillipino girl at ones destination. As are most of Lord Briss's requirements.

So Briss is all set for a few hours shuteye followed by the hell which is terminal 5.

Just one small task before I retire. A quick call to ones credit card company to declare ones plastic purloined. Mrs Briss's face will be a picture when she finds her progress along Rodeo Drive stunted by a series of "transaction declined retain card" responses.
Those colonial types are splendid hosts, but they do insist on an ability to pay. But it is probably for the best. Lord Briss and credit worthiness never tire of each others company. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Ask my tailor.

Well. As you can imagine a well travelled chap like Briss has had one or two run ins with the serving classes. Dont get me started about the demise of deference.

However today Briss was accosted by a "Revenue Protection Assistant" whilst taking forty winks on the way to the airport.

Obviously Briss assumed he was being summoned from his slumber because he was perhaps in the wrong compartment, had he missed the first class accommodation whilst in something of a mild port based daze ?

No. On the contrary. The ill bred hound had the audacity to place her rancid unkempt fingers on Lord Briss's tweeds, WAKING ME UP in the process, with no mandate whatsoever except an impertinent desire to ensure that Briss had the correct paperwork at hand. Briss rarely resorts to the use of flamboyant displays of Anglo Saxon expletives, but I do feel that there is a correct time and a place for these things.

Anyway you can rest assured that the low born harridan has learned her lesson, and the security chappie was very helpful with Briss's luggage. I do find a crisp bank note opens many doors.

Now, check in. Wish me luck.

So just where is it Sir has globe trotted to?

Is one in Delhi, checking on investments in the sweatshops that keep Sirs supplies of fine port/cigars flowing and beloved United souvenier shop stocked with replica shirts etc?

Alternativley you may be on a sabbatical yourself as Lady Briss is at Butlins, maybe your in Bangkok frittering ones inheritance on obese unconvincing Lady Boys?

Either way, keep a stiff upper lip, your hand on your wallet and above all be British!

So your erstwhile hero has had the pleasure of The Mondrian in West Hollywood for the last two nights. I write now from the Sky Bar whilst sipping a very slighty too strong Mojito. They tell me an actor chappie called Gibson misbehaved in the very same bar last night.

My slighty too strong drink epitomises the problem with LA. It just try's too hard. Too big, too garish, too much in every department. Roll on Blighty !

Highlight of the trip so far was lunch today at Nobu on Malibu beach. Although a particular stupid american women tried her best to soil Briss's good humour with her constant desire for attention. She insisted on flashing her underwear to poor Briss more often than is polite, but the food and the ocean more than made up for it.

Briss is determined to find a little culture tomorrow and the Getty museum is on the agenda. I may or may not report my findings. If I can be arsed.

LA does leave one dreadfully deflated.

The tiresome dribble that Briss suffers on your behalf................

So Briss finds himself at the Getty museum. What a frightful place.

Every single expensively assembled exhibit comes from Europe.

If I want to see artefacts from Canterbury cathedral I will go to Canterbury. If I want to see a collection of Dutch Masters I will go to the Rijks Museum, for Van Gogh that splendid little place that carries his name in Amsterdam is a delight. Rennaisance I will go to Florence. You get the picture ?

Fucking Americans, they need to realise culture is like class, it does not matter how much money you have.................................

Anyway for you thrusting young ambitious types, a quote from the man himself;

"The secret to success ? Rise early, work hard, strike oil."

(26/01/2014, 20:24)Hilary Briss Wrote: Fucking Americans, they need to realise culture is like class, it does not matter how much money you have.................................

Too true, just ask this fine fellow..... Are you related?

The hell that is Jet Lag.

Now as I am sure you are aware Lord Briss does actually have to work for a living.

Jet lag and working do not go together at all.

I do believe I might have to go to bed.

Good night.

Go and get your head down then you lazy moaning bastard!!!

Adjust your tone FattyPlug - I'll have you know that I worked very hard in that America !!!

Back to that Londin tomorrow. Can you imagine.

Well at least decent lodgings have been arranged.

https://www.themayfairhotel.co.uk/the-cigar-room

I will be very comfortable I'm sure.