Glamour lost to grammer
There’s nothing I like better than a bit of glamour, and I think you’ll agree.
Last weekend, however, I found myself in Nipponbashi. Which, by all accounts, has to be the sleaziest part of Osaka ever. To the point where it even makes our beloved Juso look like Beverly Hills. Not that we’d ever fancy a Californian facelift, mind. Neither literally nor metaphorically.
Loitering around as if I had nothing better to do, I noticed I was being spied upon by, erm, shall we say a lady of the night. And barely had the sun set. Early starter. Thank goodness the lighting was dim enough so that she couldn’t see me blushing. I didn’t know where to look. But upon closer inspection, I noticed that, yikes, the place was teaming with them. And they thought I was the one loitering. I mean, really.
As if that wasn’t enough, an old tramp was looking at me from inside a phone box. I happened to have my guitar with me, and he kept making axe-lick gestures as if he was a member of Kiss. Incessantly. Like, yeah, an impromtu tune was on the cards for your aural pleasure. Makes you wonder who he was phoning.
And then came the icing on the seedy cake. In a place engulfed with such glamour, we noticed a sign which defied the very meaning of the word. ‘Gramolous’. Like, is that in the sense of being ‘grammerless’ or ‘glamourless’. Either way, a ridiculous proposition. Especially when we found out that amongst a sketchy cluster of love hotels, it turned out to be not a hostess club, but…eeek…a host club! Oh playgirls, meet the playboys.
Me, I’ll just settle for a nice cup of tea.
