Features on the Future
Destinations & Guides
Politics and Living
Reviews and stories
International Writers Magazine: Around
The Block Again:
The Further Adventures Of Guy Block
sold it well to Guy Block, philandering lecturer and confirmed
bourgeoisie, which on the face of it, selling anything for a former
soviet state is a little ironic. We must exchange cultures they
said. Lennon For Lenin as it were. We send one of our great academics
to England and you come to us, and Guy Block, realising he had
come into a rut, thought 'why not'?
Why indeed, not?
And he should have known really that all Euro lecture circuits are a
mistake after last years disastrous trip to Germany that coincided
with a football riot. But no, Russia tops that.
Guy Block has gone from bad to wurst.
For now whilst some Vlad The Impaler lived Blocks comfortable
leafy and suburban life, he was living the Soviet nightmare with no
chance of impaling anything remotely feminine.
Why the hell not?
And to make matters worse, he was trouserless.
Walking across Red Square at night without your trousers, in the snow,
was not what Guy Block had in mind at all. This was just too unfair.
Hed protested against Vietnam, hed read Marx, hed
even attended a Workers Revolutionary Party meeting once, for a sniff
of Vanessa Redgrave of course.
Hadnt he done enough for these people?
It all started hours earlier after a particularly tiresome lecture hed
given which was mostly attended by the largely built borsht eating ladies
this country seemed to churn out. He spoke and spoke and spoke but all
the while dreamt of the hotel minibar patiently waiting for him to return.
Then as he wrapped up and was about to escape from the academic Archangel,
a vision of beauty appeared.
Like gold amongst the dirt.
A Soviet Keira Knightly
And Guy Block was hooked.
He caught her eye and smiled what he believed to be his winning smile,
and to his delight she smiled back, her lips parted to reveal glorious
white teeth. In an instant he was over there and ready to speak to her.
Accept his mouth was dry, drier than a Saudi stag night. It was like
being a teenager again, a teenager who hadnt seen a girl in years.
Well he did go to a boys only public school.
Luckily she made the first move. It was Guys dream.
As she spoke to compliment him on his speech Guy stared at her lips,
her big pouting lips, so invitingly large, as if to resemble a doorstep.
Such a vibrant red too, as red as his beloved MG.
Hang on, shes talking from those invitingly large red lips!
"I am here Professor Block to act as your guide, Messrs Bilton
and Macdonald from your British Cultural Dept sent me"
Ah, Burgess and Maclean, Block thought, and was instantly
reminded that they didnt like his joke pet names for them.
Tough. Though he could forgive them their sense of humour bypass for
bringing him this delectable angel.
And so the night looked much more promising as Natalya the owner of
those lips guided Guy across the great city of Moscow.
Well, that is what she called it, but to Guy it was no better than some
cold and frosty provincial Northern town back in Blighty. Except,
as he thought later, Guy has never trekked across some provincial northern
town back home sans trousers
No, hed have remembered that.
He should have realised it was too good to be true, but if Guy Block
has one thing, it is an overwhelming sense of vanity and so when in
one of Putins new cocktail bars, this Pasternak pretty whispered
into his ear that she found him very attractive, both physically and
mentally, what a mind he must have et sexy cetera, that he ran his hand
through his long hair and merely snorted a laugh, before suggesting
they do something about it.
She bundled him out of the bar ecstatically and proclaimed a desire
to reach a cultural climax as it were, out doors, by one of the great
architectural monoliths that Moscow have littered everywhere. How cool
would it be, she babbled, how neat would it be (why do these former
communists speak like Molly Ringwald?) to throw off the shackles of
socialism once and for all if she was to succumb to the charms of a
western academic alongside a physical representation of what the old
country once stood for!
It was at this point Guys academic brain went into neutral allowing
some other part to do the thinking
Pretty neat huh?
And so it comes as no surprise to anyone, except dear daft old Block
when having found a suitable former socialist spot, and having removed
his trousers in anticipation the lovely Natalya ran off with said garment,
wallet and all at a speed that would surely see her enter the countrys
next Olympic squad.
Trudging alone this historic city semi naked, Guy had no problems finding
someone to direct him to the British Embassy.
Well, everyone was around to look at him
And there was no denying he was British, just one look at the Union
Jack boxers that hung above his knobbly knees gave the natives an indication.
And once there, wrapped in a government grey towel and clutching government
Earl Grey Tea he complained to Burgess and Maclean about
the guide they sent him and demanded as an esteemed visiting
lecturer and British subject, as you can clearly see from his choice
of undergarments, what they were going to do about it.
Would you believe that Burgess and Maclean had sent no guide
whatsoever, and that this was a Bulgarian Beauty well known to them
as being bogus.
And would you believe that Burgess and Maclean had suddenly
got a sense of humour again?
Wouldnt they bloody just
He left for the safety of his rooms at his University back home the
next day, amidst sniggers and titters determined.
© Mark Cunliffe Sept 2006
More adventures with Mr Block
It was a crisp January morning at Trenton University.
All was normal.
More new Fiction in Dreamscapes
all rights reserved - all comments are the writers' own responsibiltiy
- no liability accepted by hackwriters.com or affiliates.