Mysen and Ms Alsop took a jaunt to Belgium just da other week. We booked it purely because it was cheap as chips to hop on a Eurostar choo choo and hit up the capital of the EU.
The trip was full of food and adventure despite almost missing the train over there. Turns out the country’s national flex is encapsulated in a small pissing boy, which is, as they say, a strong look.
We took a trip to a museum of musical instruments, drank some deeply strong ales and ate like a pair of ravenous hounds hell bent on growing a joint paunch as large as a leaky barge. I spoke very poor French to a few natives who took pity on my warbling and served me another glass of booze. Smoking snouts inside reminded me of how good it was back in the days when pubs were pubs and anyone who chooses not to chuff is a little nancy boy.
One of the best bits was visiting Ghent, which was picturesque as fuck. I showed my true colours and demonstrated that I’ve got a real fear of heights when we reached the top of a cathedral tower. We drank, ate and imagined that Soulwax were making a record in a flat round the corner.
Plus we also saw the Atomium which was a space-age Flash Gordonesque structure made out of massive silver balls. It was total and utter hype.
Little pissing lad
Word!
Belgiums do it better
Atomium
More Atomium - freaking massive
Fuck you homeboy
Fritzl's disguise
Late and drunk
Tea room flex
Old man
Moog
Minibar
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