Dear American Tourist Wanker,

The only thing that kept you from getting my tripod up the side of your head and the opportunity to examine the soles of my new boots up close for the "nice skirt" comment while I was walking home in the snow in a kilt with thirty pounds of camera gear over my shoulder was valerian needing to get home to pee.

On a tangential note: before we "invite the world" to our colonial, backwater, arse-hole of the Empire "world class" city for the goddamned Olympics we might want to get a few more fucking taxis.

Other than that I enjoyed myself. It was a slow night sales-wise, but I got several good pictures nonetheless.