Balling and chains

Day 5 - Wrocław

"And I got an engine full of trunk space, I get money three ways, f*****g bitches three ways, seven different foreigns plus no hablé. But I make that bitch walk for some cheesecake."

Tyga's words from early 2015 inspired us to leave Berlin's Meininger Hotel and take a left turn into Poland. We pointed the ride towards the city of Wrocław where we could live like kings for a fraction of the money Scandinavia had demanded of us, £8 pancakes whaaat? The relative weakness of the country's economy was ably demonstrated when silky autobahn became torn and undulating tarmac. The car bounced and juddered and my pen criss-crossed the page like an etch-a-sketch in the hands of a drunk child. The second demonstration came when a car behind, furiously flashing its lights, got us to stop on the hard shoulder. A balding, middle-aged, be-paunched guy walked to the driver's window and, handing over a business card, proceeded to try and interest us in a deal with his import/export company. I kept a wary eye on his homie still in the car behind lest he decide to join the party. Guy no. 1 seeing our dumbstruck confusion starting removing the chain around his neck, to sell to us? Who knows. That was about enough, James started the engine, we made our apologies (never lose your manners) and we sped away. A strange and disconcerting experience. True players have no time for hostels (unless they hiding out from the five-0) so we'd booked into the 5-star Hotel Monopole. The rooms were more dark wood than plywood, marble replaced Formica, complementary slippers and grooming products replaced absolutely nothing. As we planned to get crunk around town that night, a quick survey of my creased and worn clothes turned up nothing sufficiently fly. I needed to go to the shops to pickup some dope new threads and perhaps, as Tyga recommends, 'a chain brighter than a strobe light' (Import/Export guy would also approve). On the way I happened upon a cheery little chap stood in the street. He was 4 inches tall and appeared to smoking a pipe, probably full of top grade green, gangster. First appearing in 2001 he is one of over 300 dwarfs on the streets of Wrocław that commemorate, in part, the Orange Alternative which was an anti-communist movement from the eighties. After a quick spin around the picturesque city centre I found a shopping centre and purchased some new clothes for a song and a dance and strolled back to our palatial residence.

"Ahh! Aye babe this my new shit
I'm the black Richie Rich with the roof missing."

Me and the crew headed up to party with bitches on the roof terrace of the hotel. Sadly the roof terrace was closed due to a spot of rain so we too, like Tyga, found the roof to be 'missing'. Instead we went and had dinner at a nice little spot in the main square with an authentic menu and red gingham tablecloths, pimping. After a meal which my notes say was sausage and was nice (A.A Gill better watch out) it was time to hit the scene like we big money. Matt wasn't in a scene-hitting mood so left us to it. Two spiced rum and coke for 25 zloty (£4) hard not to like a place with prices like that. Also hard not to like a place whose toilets so closely resemble an old-fashioned brothel, the redness of the walls, carpets and lights stained my eyeballs I think. It topped the facilities in the first bar where we drank crunchy coffee bean cocktails, they were just lit with candles on the floor, it created a real sense of romance at the urinal. Time to get game so based on the recommendation of the hostess at brothel bar we swaggered over to Club Grey. The real realest don't do it by the glass they pop bottles but Grey didn't have any Cristal in so we settled for a bottle of Gentleman Jack (mixers not included). Okay so the only ice was in a bucket but people were definitely feeling us flossin'. Making for the dancefloor jack in hand we busted some big moves to some deep grooves, picture a LMFAO video and you've got the idea. I'd feel remiss not to tell you what the toilet was like in this place too, it was full of guys who had temporarily suspended their steroid intake to cram into cubicles to take other sorts of drugs. We ended the night in a McDonalds, not pimping but man gotta eat right? Somehow managed to get invited to a wedding in Poland next year, looking forward to it Maciek! I'll leave you with more wise words from Tyga -

"This that fly shit, King shit only
Drop top, no roof - ahhh Wrocław"

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