Absinthe Minded

STOP the presses:

Perseus fresh from a sojourn in Ibiza visited moi to try a pair of stretch cotton chinos…

Now I’m not saying he is high maintenance, but he was soooo tired after a rigorous session in the gym, that he flopped into the leather chair in the basement and beckoned me to pull the trousers off, as he was too tired to struggle with them.

After all, and I quote, “I’m exhausted after doing hundreds of one arm, leg curls!” I think I have to have a word with his trainer…

Let’s get back to matter in hand!

Monsieur Louboutin said recently that he is vaguely horrified… Quelle horreur!

Like all great designers, his existential struggle with his customers really mirrors my own.

Not that you are all tottering around in red soled, high heeled shoes… I said not all of you!

His boeuf, is that he can’t always control how his collection is worn, and by whom. Tell me about it!

Whereas, I do try my best, but sometimes, it’s in one ear and out the other.

Much of the time those red soles are seen gracing the feet of a certain type of professional person, of which the greatest concentration of pairs found in any one location is apparently in Chelsea Cloisters, also known as seven floors of… or so I am reliably informed.

How was Christian to know that his collection would be thrown to the lions of hooker chic?

Not that all of them are off the hook.

I am unaware of any of my clients who would wear my collection in such a fashion, yet I would not be surprised by the peccadillos of those whose needs I humbly attend to.

Perhaps I am Androcles in this story, after all he was a tailor.

Talking about being thrown to the lions.

Our poor Ambassador to the US, Sir Kim has had his red carpet pulled out from underneath him.

The whole thing ‘Smells of Teen Spirit’. Unfortunately, I couldn’t twist that into an anagram of treason.

In this modern age, while our youth is struggling with the dilemma and burdens of social media exposure, the rest of us are coming to terms with the fact, that each time we touch a key there is someone looking over our shoulder, no matter who we are, or where we are.

On a personal level, I have taken to closing my eyes and striking wildly at the keys. It is in the vain hope that like a chimpanzee writing the entire works of Shakespeare, what I produce; may at some time, mean something to someone, somewhere.

At least I can then say I didn’t know what I was writing.

Then you have ‘The D’, who is up all night telling us all to go forth and divide, he just can’t help himself. I can only imagine he wanders off to the loo in the middle of the night, in his red silken pjs, hair askew, his phone in those tiny little hands, leaving Melania like sleeping beauty, awaiting the return of her Prince.

He sits upon his throne, and picks up a copy of National Geographic, the ‘Red Mist’ descends, thumbs aflame.

Women adorn each page, an agender he has never fully understood.

Are we now all, weather obsessed, and with weather apps? Gone are the days of pine cones, holding up a wet finger, or even looking up at the sky. Our phones and watches now buzz with weather updates, a point zero one drop in temperature, severe weather warnings, relative humidity, a tree falling in the forest, a sensor to tell us that the fridge light is on when the door is closed!

Many years ago, Michael Fish was castigated for missing a hurricane.

But fear ye not, we have modern technology, do not be alarmed… It has not rained recently…

They were swarms of flying ants.


No, true; the ants apparently, look the same as rain clouds to certain types of weather radar. I can only assume that locusts resemble, snow. A plague on both your houses!

Just for when you are being a little Absinthe minded!

Copyright © 2019 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved


Tik tok, tik tok, like the crocodile in Peter Pan…

Time is money, and I can have my 15 seconds of fame…

You can pay me to be your drama queen, well it is Pride this weekend. I know, what changes you ask?

I’d give my left arm for that… by hook or by crook.

And for £48.99 you can get access to my ‘onlyfans’ page with special, exclusive content, including the moment when I lose it big time with a particularly awkward customer… it shows the scene where I do not blow on the brass end of the tape measure that I keep in the freezer, just for moments like that.

And beware it contains graphic, disturbing, yet strangely compelling images and videos.

Talking of that, Big D is out pressing the flesh with Lil’ Kim. Only Kim’s problem was that he couldn’t erect a wall quickly enough, and Donald just stepped across the border and invade North Korea.

In future this moment is to be known as Donald’s ‘Lego Legover’, I hope Lego doesn’t mean anything rude in Korean.

Big D, could be heard singing along to himself…

“I’m not the man they think I am home…

… All this science

I don’t understand

It’s just my job five days a week. My little Rocket Man.”

Now the sun’s out, ewwwww. Has it caught people by surprise?

Perseus is heading for a wedding on Ibiza. A right Bobby Dazzler he explained to me. It’s his first visit, and he’s as giddy as a school… (insert gender of preference!), as long as it is non-primary…

Do you believe in Angels????

Oh, stop it I only write this stuff.

Four fun filled days of organised entertainment. I’m sure there will be line dancing, there always is on Ibiza! He is exporting his caustic wit, and I have warned him not to blow it all on one intense session, the blood pressure may never recover…

He may have slain Cetus, but when it comes to affairs of the boudoir, occasionally he stumbles, his ability to apply fake tan has never improved, despite the enormous amount of practice he has had over the years.

In fact you might have seen him from a train window in a field tied by a rope to a post, such is the dappled effect!

Today, I saw on a famous shop window in Soho, a man clad, in tight, black Lycra and a helmet.

Hmmmm, you know you are searching the wrong images, in the wrong place.

A hint… Middle aged men in Lycra…

Next to him was the slogan ‘Developed for years to save you seconds.’ What an appalling study in time and motion.

Those amongst you who lusted over and on occasion fondled my Pinarello carbon fibre saddle in the shop will know that if you are that desperate to lose a few grams, take a rest room break or sneeze, that way those grams won’t end up your nose! Not that I condone the use of performance enhancing substances, except in an emergency, and for those of you who asked me, a ‘Jaegerbomb’ enhances no performance at any time, in any way! Especially four of them.

But, if that development were my life’s work, I’d be devastated… seconds, is that all I will gain? No wonder Oliver asked for more!

However, it might be said I have a similar approach to life, and my obsession with Hades. I worked my entire life to ensure that I merely spend just seconds in Purgatory, and then go straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect £200. Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me…

Oranges and Lemons – Don’t forget to hydrate

 Copyright © 2019 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved






The Juxtaposition – My Missionary in Life

Please Note:

The shop will be closing at 15.30 next Saturday 15th June, and re-opening on Wednesday the 19th June at 11 am, and will also be closed on Tuesday 25th June, re-opening on Wednesday the 26th June.


Let’s get away from all the political shenanigans momentarily and concentrate on the things that really matter!

Justin Bieber has offered to take on Tom Cruise in the Octagon, that’s like the Pentagon, but with eight sides… If you ask me it’s a little one sided! But further proof that someone’s ego is making too much money. I have asspirations of being Kim Kardashian! OMG, LOL, LMAO, FUNEX, SVFX…

My Husky 430X

Oh! The juxtaposition…

In order that my bid for leadership is not derailed, I must admit to one or two failings.

Did I stumble, did I fall?

In this time of disclosure, I have to admit to paying TAX.

I was young foolish, listened to my accountant. It was peer pressure, my friends all did it, and I didn’t want to appear naïve. So even when it appeared in those little envelopes, I admit to paying my Class 1 NI.

Temptation lay at every turn, I’m waiting for my man, an envelope of Brown Sugar in his hand, until I Can’t feel my Face, my spending money neatly rolled into my Sterling Silver candy box, Sugar, Sugar you are my Candy Girl.

There was one occasion whilst I was cooking with Porcini, a unicorn in a Godzilla suit at my side, when a gust of wind blew my pile of notes off the table, only for them to find a home where they were owed, but I never touched them.

Anyway, it was only Monopoly money, I never passed Go, or rolled three doubles in a row. Pass the Dutchie on the left-hand side…

But I made my cash with Jeremiah Peabody’s Polyunsaturated Quick-Dissolving Fast-Acting Pleasant-Tasting Green and Purple Pills… and unwarranted intellectual kudos. According to my man Charlie, who has just dropped off a parcel.

Let him without sin cast the first die…

If you see with innocent eyes, everything is divine.

De Pefffel, has meanwhile suggested that we should raise the threshold from £50 to £80, to take anything of any Class out of the reach of poor people. Has he not learned the aspirational nature of humanity? The law of supply and demand? Sometimes less is more, well more or less!

God has a way of telling you are making too much money.

Next week I am taking delivery of my new motor.

On the way out is my Husqvarna 430X. It’s been amazing, but the driving experience has been a little lacking, and in all honesty watching this little fella bumping into things around the garden hasn’t filled me with joy. A Rolling Stone gathers no moss and all that…

So, step up the Mean Mower V2 with 0-100 mph time of 6.29 seconds the lawn will be done in a jiffy. Topping out at nearly 151 mph. 

Too much money, my elbow. I’ll be able to get the crop in that little bit quicker…

Copyright © 2019 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.





Five Spice

Let us get the photos of the cute dogs out of the way.




Meet Bit, Sputnik and Shifty. The trio collectively weigh in at a kilo… more or less!

However, as we know looks can be deceptive, there is a much darker side to all of them. Walk them at your peril.

In a week where the Tory party appears to look more and more, like a tangled fishing line, the BBC reported on surgeons concerns that dog walkers were at risk of serious injury from wrapping leads and leashes around their hands and arms.

Well, of course they are.

How stupid do you have to be? Any one who has any knowledge of ropes and ties will understand that dogs have absolutely no idea what a ‘safe word’ is! And as for even trying to use cat, squirrel or walkies, you are just asking for trouble. Have you ever seen a dog with a bone?

Er! On the other hand, cats are a completely different kettle of fish, but that’s opening up another debate that is likely to divide the nation.

Then there was the queue waiting to climb to the summit of Mount Everest. Beneath the layers of clothing I could make out Govie, BJ and SJ, Mattie H, Stewie, Rabid Raab, Trussedup, Leadweight, Wheyhey McVey and Jeremy Hunt. I had to cut and paste him, just in case my fingers slipped on the keys! No obvious nickname there…

They are all desperately searching for the oxygen of publicity, while apparently all the smart money is on Itbeggarsbelief in trap 7.

And all these politicians are like pop stars, you’re waiting for 5 when 4 turn up together, ‘Wannabes’, who ‘Never Give Up on the Good Times’, when May has said ‘Goodbye’, ‘2Become 1’.

‘Stop’! ‘Who Do You Think You Are?’ Go on, go and ‘Spice up Your Life’, just ‘Say You’ll Be There’, ‘Mama’. ‘In the Summertime’, when the sun is out ‘Let Love Lead the Way’. ‘Holler’, ‘Too much’? No gone on I can squeeze another one out!

‘Viva Forever’, remember please ‘Friendship Never Ends’…

Admit it you are now singing along.

Yes, you thought they had gone, but like so many politicians they are back. As if they never went away! Five Spice have become four, and they are still wowing their audiences. However, some fans complained the sound was so bad they couldn’t hear them. Nothing much has changed there; all I can say is thank heaven for small mercies… Well it was staged at Croak Park (sic.)

I will choose the silent disco.

Hopefully I shall get to Rocketman over the next week or so. I’m fairly certain that Sir Elton is still with us, so I’m trying to work out if this is slightly macabre or narcissistic.

As the afore mentioned ladies Spiced up the world, I suppose anything goes…


Copyright © 2019 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Coffee Table Deliveries… and other stories


New stock at the end.

I have been told that this newsletter is turning into my travels around the world in what appears to be far, far longer than 80 days… Pish, you’ve only just noticed!

However, I will have you know that I do work, despite your painless barbs. Painless? Yes, because of the vast amounts of time I have spent lazing around in the sun, I have the skin of a Rhino.

In my profession you do well to remember that a stitch in time saves nine…

And, as I sit here, I am gently warming the soles of my feet on Hades’s hot coals. Evidently a cushy life is not without its sacrifices; this also involves keeping you all entertained every day of the week. Yes, matinees and evensong! That candle is lit at both ends, and Lil’ Kim is holding the blue touch paper.

Those of you that have visited the crypt of Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini in Rome, will know where a great many of my skeletons are buried, they delightfully sculpted into works of art, perhaps depicting the events, but I say most, but not all.

Last weekend in Ibiza I was confronted with a problem, a dilemma, a cube of Rubik proportions, and, yes. Not for the first time!

Neil had ‘bought’ a coffee table.

As many of you may recall, Neil was also instrumental in tattooing many pairs of shoes over the years, bespoke designs, sometimes letting his creative juices flow, with a dexterity that mere mortals could only envy, a wild smile across his face, the gold tooth glittering in the moonlight… only the whine of the tattoo machine breaking the silence…

Apologies, my creative juices had started to flow. As I have matured these moments of dysfunction have become more common, and from time to time I have had to resort to chemical or homeopathic remedies to finish the newsletter. Apparently these are now available in most well-known chemists… You can’t walk past a window these days without these diamonds of delight being thrust in your face, and I only went in for party hats!

Back to the problem, or moving from one to another? Neil lives high up in Ibiza old town where the air is thin, beyond The Wall, surrounded by massive stone ramparts, and the closest we could get with a van was about 80 metres away. The table was a huge lump of wood, made from the trunk of a tree in the Whispering Wood, weighing in at nearly 250kgs it had to be transported up the last 40 medieval stone steps.

We stood around in the early morning sun, sipping a Kingslayer, a Red Priestess, enjoying the view of the Seven Kingdoms, as far as the White Harbour and the Bite, discussing our various wounds, aches and pains of battle, we evaluated the options. Should we use drugs, apologies… rugs, rollers, ties, a crane, hydraulic lifters, a pendulum, a YouTube tutorial, the infinite monkey theorem, aliens, dragons?

Without ‘The Mountain’, a Leonardo or a Galileo between us, we decided to apply the principle of Occam’s Razor, meaning; ‘that the simplest solutions are preferable to complex ones.’ So, we put down our cocktail glasses, picked a corner each and onwards and upwards we struggled. After a great deal of grunting, to meing, and to youing, your end up a bit, your end down a bit, we made it.

Thus, proving that logic, and a heuristic solution, not forgetting a little brawn and Mutual Aid are a match for Superficial Intelligence! Those on high would do well to listen…

Please forgive me, for I know what I am about to do… my apologies!

But that’s how on the second to last day of my weekend away, the motley crew that carried the coffee table up the steps of the old town, ended up sitting in a row at 10 in the morning sipping ice cold Bohemian style beer supplied by the hardest tattooist that ever stuck a needle in anyone’s arm. It lasted 20 minutes that beer-break, and for those twenty minutes we felt like free men.

Cotton Polo Shirts – Short Sleeve £150

Our classic Linen Polo Shirt – £150

Contrast Collar Polo Shirt – £135

 Copyright © 2019 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.