While he is being important, I am forced to hide from the torrential downpour by walking the 360 degrees round the European Parliament Exhibition. Experiencing a long dark tunnel of existential despair sounds preferable, and then I discover they actually have that tunnel as part of the introductory Euro-fun.
It doesn't get any better. I can harken to tales of Euro-joy in the next long gallery of pain, and then I can sit in an armchair to have nails driven into my face.
As far as I can see, Brexit isn't mentioned, unless you count the statement 'The UK is fully committed to Europe' at the end of another tunnel where they then gather my good wishes for the future of all Europe. Someone before me has typed the offering Penis and signed it Penisman. Make of that what you will.
The best bit was when two English speakers tried to leave the 360 degrees of Euro Fun by reversing out the entrance. The guard icily told them this was not the correct way out and they should walk the 360 degrees properly if they wanted to leave. In the end they just legged it.
I am sorry for the Pft. Take it as the sound of a whoopee cushion, deflated, without the whoopee (or the cushion), or much joy at all.
I am sure Brussels offers much, but I cannot say I had a whoop-de-doo time of it, although it is clearly WTF territory, with their penchant for giant plastic horses dressed up as zebras, enormous chunks of unfathomable kitch pretending to be sculptures, and people doing inexplicable and bewildering things in public.
I did quite enjoy seeing the angel though (no photograph, sadly). And car-free Sunday made me awful regretful that we don't do the same all over England.
If you are seriously interested in Brussels, with or without pft, there is only one place to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment