Stylised Monologue

Wednesday, 13 June 2012


Hiya guys! How is everyone? What did you get up to last week? 

I personally, travelled to a far far away land  on the eurostar for a couple of hours and ended up in 
BELGIUM (wow this is shaping up to be quite the colourful post)

Now, being the ever present blogger that I am (cue to uncontrollable laughter and pointing) I have decided to compose... 

First stop: BRUSSELS. 

What? This is a genuine traditional folk costume!! Honest. 

Ok. So, first things first. In order to NOT be stylish in Brussels, just go when it's raining constantly. Don't be threatened by the summery sound of the month of June. It will rain. Constantly. Disregarding mother nature's will that June, July and August are summer months. 99% of the photos I've got are of me wearing a coat. 0 fashion blogger points. HEY! DO YOU WANT ME TO GET PNEUMONIA AND LOOK LIKE THIS AGAIN?!! DO YOU? DO YOU? Good, I didn't think you did. 

Right, moving on, when travelling to a country you've never been to before, it is highly advisable that you ask people you know have been/lived there for tips of where NOT to stay. I took the adventurous route. Living on the edge and all that shizzle (plus I had read that Brussels has very low criminality, because in reality I am a MASSIVE wuss) so I left the hotel picking to my man, my rock, the apple of my eye, Anthony. He promised it was central and nice. He showed me a couple of pictures and it looked pleasant enough as we were only planning to use it as a base anyway. All I need to say is that the toilet was actually IN the kitchen and the location was the (after further research) possibly only dangerous place in Brussels. Therefore, due to fear of petty crime, there was a certain relunctance on our part to actually carry Anthony's camera around much. -1 blogger points. A GOOD START I TELLS YA! 

Aaaand that's pretty much all it takes to not be stylish in Brussels. Or to not have stylish evidence anyway which is probably just an excuse like when I tell my bf I know all the football terms, just not in English. In reality, I'm equally as clueless in Greek. 

Anyway, minor disturbances aside, here is a collection of COOL THINGS IN BRUSSELS:

1. THEY HAVE WIENER BUSES. see this London? you're so proud of your double decker buses which frankly, deprived of any phallic insinuations are now boring. 

2. THEY HAVE NITS. sorry, NITZ cos they're gangsta. Now, I know nits are not Belgium exclusive and that you can find them anywhere. But, that's were smart business comes in. In Brussels, THEY SELL THEM. So, children around the world, eager to rub your itchy head against that of a class mate, think again, those pests could be the source of pocket money. 

3. THEY HAVE INAPPROPRIATE STATUES. And here I thought, us Greeks were pros when it came to inappropriate statues. First they were naked, then we made their penises TEENY TINY and THEN we went on to actually CHOP THEM OFF. No, the Belgians won't mess about with petty aesthetic insults like that. They'll clothe their statues and then have them give the world the middle finger. Brilliant. He's a bit like: " Yeah, alright, I'm a statue we've established that now FUCK OFF and stop staring"

3 1/2. OK SO I KIND OF LIED. They also have naked, poorly endowed statues. The significant difference however, is that:  a) this one is also weeing unlike the Greek ones that are merely showing off their marble muscles and b) this is their MAIN TOURIST SIGHT. You know how Paris has the eiffel tower, Athens the Acropolis, Egypt the pyramids and the list goes on? Well Belgium has THE MANNEKEN PISS. 


5. THEY HAVE A CAR EXHIBITION (look I made Anthony go to the Fashion Museum in Antwerp so I was kind of oblidged to go along to this one) WHERE THE BEST CAR EVER LIVES. It's called bubble (the bubble car?) and I'm pretty sure it's my inanimate soulmate. 

and last but not least, 


(American TV voice) Next time on Stylised Dialogue: An Antwerpian Adventure. 

Monday, 4 June 2012

The Stylish Guide To The Queen's Diamond Jubilee

So in case you guys haven't heard, yesterday marked the Queen of England's Diamond Jubilee. If you're wondering what that actually means, it means that one's kept her job for 60 years. Granted, it's not like she can fuck up and like the rest of us get fired or even become redundant. But listen, before you dismiss it, she's so far escaped death. That's pretty special. Where does fashion come in to all this, you ask. Well, keep reading and one will see. As I am too busy trying to spot the flotilla (possibly my new favourite word btw) through the patriotic crowds and drinking healthy amounts of pimms, I will pass this blog onto some very special guests to elaborate on the subject that is... drumroll...


Right, so, ta ta from me. First up... Elisabeth Windsor, The Queen.

Greetings and welcome. One is very flattered to be cordially invited to participate in such a conservative blog. One was appointed to talk about garmnets and fashion and one is never to disobey one's rules. One's corgi's would be terribly dissapointed in one if one went on to do so.

ahhh one does crack one self up. What the fuck do my corgi's have to do with all this. Anyway, despite the ghastly weather, one only celebrates a Diamond Jubilee once in a lifetime and let us all be honest, my royal highness is a big YOLO-er. So out comes the mini white dress, eat your heart out Katy, your legs aren't full of royal blood, the cancles will soon appear and I WANT that comparisson in my resume. Now, don't you stutter in shock, like my dear old father, there are only so many oscars that can be given to royal speech impetiments, go away and produce a couple of heirs, even she that shall not be named did so. Ahhh speaking of heirs, one had the opportunity to push a couple of couples of children out of her royal vagina. Unfortunately the effect those births had on ones figure are almost as unsightly as the children themselves. A looser skirt is advisable. Crown and jewels are mandatory, of course. One is the fucking Queen, I'm not going to go for a simplistic look. As for the weather, yes , it fucked up, ROYALLY. pun intended, of course. Thankfully, Suzy, my darling Corgi, gifted to me on my 18th birthday and long dead, is going to keep me both warm and stylish, wrapped around my shoulder. Good doggy. Suzy will be with me throughout the whole thing, but alas my hot chuck of a hairy Greek lover,  Phil had to be hospitalised again. As a stylish hint to my sadness, I shall replace my usual white gloves with black ones. Get well soon boo, cannot wait to go back to our dirty Greek tourist bangs incognito Royal on the beach roleplay. Footwear is casual, one is 86 fucking years old.
That's all for now, civilians, one's got a very busy scedule. XO XO, your Queen.


Next up... Liz Winds, Drag Queen.

Hiya Dolls,
If you're less Diamond and more Diamante, then listen up.

Shave your beard as closely as you can, push them boobs your mama (Mr. Andrew M Allan, plastic surgeon) gave you and slather on the make up. Us Queens are being honoured this bank holliday and no amount of stubble will stop that from happening.

Being a Drag Queen this Jubilee is where it's at. You don't have to socialise with the royal pain in the arses and you don't have to cover up. Wear your most revealing top and party like its... 60 years since the Queen sat on the loo. See what I did there? Right, got a penis to tuck in. See ya later loves. Liz.


Last but most certainly not least, Freddie Mercury, Queen's lead singer and legend!


It's so nice to see you all down there having fun. I'm extremelly jealous but who wants to live forever and all that shit, you know. Who would have thought that the Queen would outlive Queen? She's not in any way killer, though. Have you seen the the shoes she wears? oh, honey, no. You can see them poor feet trying to break free. And lets be honest, that outfit she wore at her grandson's wedding?

even "Scaramoush, scaramoush will you do the fandago" makes more sense that. Darling Elisabeth may not be much when it comes to fashion  but we should all celebrate this Jubilee like champions.
My advice is, wear whatever you're comfortabe in. Jumpsuits, skirts, jeans and t-shirts, trainers and yellow waistcoats. I've done it all, and I have rocked you no matter what.
Just wear what you like, and a condom.

Ciao Darlings, Farouk  Freddie.


The End