The last straw

Los Fabulosos is no more, well for the time being anyway.

We’ve decided to pack it in at Somni, maybe we’ll look for another venue, but right now we need a break. To say we’ve had a few problems is an understatement and last week was the final straw.

You know we’ve had difficulties with the club since the beginning, when it wasn’t ready for the first two parties, well they continued almost every week. Two weeks ago the owner told us on the Monday that he’d decided the music wasn’t working and we had to make a change because the club was going to be busy. The last two Fridays have been public holidays and so with people off work the next day our Thursday nights were rammed.

Now, we were a bit put out by this because the other house nights in the week are, to be frank, failures. No-one goes. We even saw a DJ on one night turn up with a computer, plug it in and sit back smoking tabs - no effort required!

Anyway, we met the owner all the way. We did a pirate theme. I decorated the club with skulls and crossbones and we bought loads of eye-patches and flower garlands to give out and we got another DJ, who plays at one of the big clubs, to come and do a couple of hours of disco, broken-beats and a bit of classic house (we still did a few hours of tropical, which went down really well) aaaaannnnddd…. he loved it (as well as everyone else).

We thought the coast was clear for the following week. But, the next Monday he told us we were bumped to the back room because the music director (ahem) had a DJ friend coming from Barcelona who was going to do the main room. Our other alternative was nothing, nowt, nada. So, speechless, we agreed.

Thursday arrived and this mega Barcelona DJ was nowhere to be seen. Instead it was the guy who usually does the Saturday night. So, we did our thing, picked up our money on Monday and are about to tell the owner where he can stick his club. I don’t need to tell you where that is, do I?

Anyway, a weight has been lifted and we’d like to say thanks to everyone who has supported us so far - from the DJs who slept on our sofa to the messages of support from pals back in Blighty - it means a lot.

We’re going to get some little jobs and spend some time at the beach, so it’s not all bad. And if we find a perfect little venue to do a few more Los Fabs then we’ll definitely get in there and do them. The best thing is that now we’ve got time we can blog more. See, things always happen for a reason.

Showers and smelly pits

The muppetry of this island is beginning to take its toll on Mr B and myself. Even having a morning shower is almost impossible. We’d had a good run these past few weeks with the taps working all the time, but this morning it was back to the norm - nowt.

In all this heat you need to have at least two showers a day otherwise you end up smelling like a dodgy fairgound burger van (well, everyone except me of course!). To make matters worse we had run out of deodorant, so I had to nip out to the bank and shops with just a spritz of Pacha for men for coverage (it was a freebie, we’re not that sad). No-one noticed, well no-one turned their noses up, or if they did I’m blaming the Pacha perfume. Thankfully it’s only ever off for a few hours so we’re back in business now, although it is 2 in the afternoon.

We’ve got some news about Los Fabulosos, but I can’t tell you just yet. Soon.

Ten things we miss about Blighty

In reverse order, of course. I don’t want to ruin the surprise…

10. Television - Spanish TV is truly dreadful. It might help if I could speak the lingo, but I still don’t think that’s going to help.

9. London parks - a great place to spend the afternoon. We do have lots of lovely sandy beaches, but it does get everywhere.

8. The great British weather - all this sunshine is boring. I’m too darn hot and would kill for a cold, windy day - only joking losers.

7. A decent sandwich selection - here is an example of the choices you get at most places in Ibiza.

Ham

Cheese

Mixed (ham and cheese)

House special - tuna, lettuce, chicken, tomato, fried egg, bacon, asparagus, olives, onions, ham and cheese.

6. People making decisions on trivial matters in less than 2-3 weeks - I say no more.

5. Supermarkets - they all look like Lidl (with loads of cardboard boxes in the aisles with stock galore waiting to be put on the shelves) even the decent ones.

4. Going to a nightclub and not being charged £40 to get in plus £12 a drink - scandalous. Although, Los Fabulosos is a much better value night out, with better music, cheap drinks and free entry, every Thursday…

3. Not being able to pay with a debit or credit card - oh, how I miss the days of being able to switch a loaf of bread and a pint of milk.

2. Having to buy drinking water - bloody plastic bottles everywhere.

1. Our friends and family - awww.

Sorry. We’re now back

Mr B and I would like to apologise to our avid readers for the lack of blogging. The truth is we haven’t had time, lame I know, but its the truth.

Things have been really hectic and totally up and down. One minute things are going swimmingly and then the next it falls apart. I don’t really know where to start.

First there was the Los Fabulosos parade on Figueretes and Salinas beaches - fantastic. Here’s a picture of two hot chicks holding up our banner and then an action shot of the capoeira.

Hot chicks on Salinas beach

He really is upside down

Then there was the incident with the terrible DJ from the island, whose idea of warming the crowd up was playing Brazilian chill out - Mr B called it wallpaper music, everyone else called it s***. To make things worse there was then a stand-off between the Brazilians and the other south Americans. The Brazilians wanted samba and samba only, and the others wanted salsa and salsa only. Neither would dance to the ‘other side’s’ music and stood there looking moody. The Brazilian dancer decided to step in and got inside the DJ booth and tried to put on a Reggaeton CD - the DJ was non too pleased. It was totally crazy.

Since then there have been various arguments with poster girls in Figueretes (which I could go into in much more detail, but it will make me angry and lead to name calling), lots of flyering and a few more radio appearances.

On Thursday we had DJ Greymatter from the Mr Bongo Soundsystem over to launch their new album. He was totally fantastic - the most technically brilliant DJ I have seen for a long time and the music he played was amazing. Hopefully we’ll be able to welcome him back sometime during the summer.

Then Mr B played a gig at Sunset Ashram - a lovely beach bar in Cala Conta that is a great place to watch the sunset. I had a great time too eating curry and drinking cold beer - it’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.

It doesn’t rain…

No, I’m not talking about the weather - it’s been hot and sunny, none of those freaky storms like last month. Rather, it seems that fate has been against us, that is until today.

First of all, the club still wasn’t quite ready for us last week. All day Thursday there were about 50 fitters and fixers (and quite a few bodge-jobbers) in there trying to get it finished off. Then at about 6pm Mr B and I were called in, as well as our fantastic DJ, and two of our friends, to help sweep, lift and shift bags of cement and, erm, cover a gaping hole in the ceiling. I kid you not.

So as you can imagine, our nerves were a bit shot, but we ended up having a fantastic time. Lewis ‘Smokey’ Robinson played a brilliant set (thank you!) and there was lots of drinking and dancing.

Then on Saturday night, Mr B loses the one and only car key we have. Knowing how long it takes to get anything done over here, we had visions of getting our car back in a month’s time. Luckily, he managed to find it by retracing his steps. He had to walk six mies in flip flops, but don’t feel sorry for him, he was drunk when it “fell” out of his pocket.

Then the internet packed up. I reckon that I’ve spent at least six hours in the Vodafone shop trying to get it fixed - most of that was just waiting around. But in fairness to them, they did it and we’re now back online. I feel like a dimwit because the problem was so easy to solve (no, I’m not going to embarrass myself further by telling you).

Anyway, our luck has changed for the better today. Our Los Fabulosos banner arrived and is now swinging in the breeze outside the club. It’s 6.30pm and I’m at about to have a cold shower and get ready for some serious flyering action, not sweeping up dust and stocking bars.

Things are looking up!

The Mutant Mr Whippy

Is it not the most horrible child-scaring piece of work you’ve ever seen? The bovver boots and freaky hands holding what looks like a multi-coloured club is bad enough. But the face is even more disturbing - not least the Douglas Hurd haircut and the huge tongue lolling out. And this remember is supposed to entice people into buying an ice-cream. Can you imagine anyone seeing that and saying “Hmm look at that delicious looking plastic ice-cream bovver boy freak. I really fancy a 99 now. Come on kids let’s go in there and get one.”

You can’t help wondering who the most disturbed person is - the nutter who made it or the lunatic who paid for it…

Los Fab is good to go…

It’s been a busy week for Mrs B and I…

The lighting rig finally turned up at the venue so Los Fabulosos got it’s official opening fiesta night set in stone which is great news.  We are good to go on the 19th of June.  Gulp…

The flyers & posters are done and at the printers and we are busy making the arrangements for getting the DJ’s over.  Everyone seems to be excited and now all we have to do is make sure everyone knows about it and we get the punters through the door. The club is still a complete building site mind you so my butt cheeks are quivering a tiny bit still.  The owner has assured us that whips will be cracked however and the plan will come together.  I hope he’s right.

The Ibicencans do seem to have a natural air of optimism about them at the moment that is proving pretty infectious for everyone else too.  Maybe it’s the sight of the tourists finally starting to arrive on the island in a significant number again and the prospect of all those lovely euros they’ll be bringing with them.  Or maybe it’s just the fact that they are busy again after an austere winter.  Who am I trying to kid here?  It’s the wonga…

We’ve also been commissioned to write a piece on Ibiza for Times Online so we’ve been driving here there and everywhere doing our research and meeting loads of Ibiza’s finest movers and shakers in the process.  We were a little worried that everyone would be so busy they wouldn’t have time but every single person has been charm personified and bent over backwards to help.  There’s a couple who are, I suppose, the people who we are trying to emulate that deserve a special mention.  They were really helpful with the article and even though they are ultra busy at the minute hung around for a drink and asked us all about Los Fab and what were we doing.  A class act in all respects.

I’m still being a real gym rat too and am trying to get there 5-6 times a week.  The thing is I go through these periods and usually drive Mrs B mad in the process.  I’m such a bore though - I can’t help looking at other people shaking my head and saying “Aww look at them - they need to get to the gym and stop eating carbohydrates.”  as well as asking Mrs B if she has noticed me getting thinner - every two hours or so is about the norm. Mrs B has raised her eyebrows so much these past few weeks that she’s starting to resemble Ann Robinson after one of her face-lifts.  Saying that, it is working.  The buttons on my shirt are no longer lethal weapons and I took my top off on the beach the other day and no-one shouted “Thar she blows!” - although if someone did say that I’d shake my fist at them and call them a bounder.  Well I’d head-butt them probably, but calling them a bounder doesn’t make me sound like a nutter…

The disappearing blue arrows

Coming soon… THE LOS FABULOSOS FLYER AND POSTER.

Mr B and I took the afternoon off yesterday - difficulties with myspace were beginning to take their toll - and went for a coastal hike in Santa Agnes. The weather has been a bit overcast and so perfect walking weather. The hike took us really close to the cliff edge with some beautiful scenery.

There are quite a few hikes that you can do in Ibiza and they are marked out by blue arrows, which point the way, and this one was no different. However, sometimes there were too many blue arrows, especially when you were relying on just one because the path had split.

There were some hairy moments. At one point, after we’d followed the wrong blue arrow, I thought we were going to have to be rescued. We walked down a narrow, rocky path towards the shore that got increasingly more overgrown and then totally blocked off. Its quite worrying to look back up the cliff, see only rocks and pine trees and not have a clue how to get back up. I could picture the rescuers faces and knew exactly what they would say: “Daft English , not following the blue arrows”.

We survived and actually had a great time. Half-way round the hike there is a long-abandoned farmhouse (pictured here). The domed structure was once a bread oven. It was well and truly in the middle of nowhere and impressive at how it was built in the firstplace.

Then we had to walk through some giant reeds. I would have chickened out, but Mr B said he saw a blue arrow so we went for it. After this, on a clearly defined path, there were more blue arrows than you could count, but these soon dwindled to nowt and we took another wrong turn.

The last leg was the hardest because it was all uphill. But we made it back to the road, rather sweaty and looking forward to a canas (small beer). Well deserved, me thinks.

The Gremlin

We’ve only been in Santa Eulalia a fortnight and I’ve already made an enemy - The Gremlin. Yeah, he may look cute, but I had to take this photo from inside the safety of the car because this dog has got more bite than Freddie Mercury and Esther Ranson put together. Mr B said it was like being at Knowsley Safari Park.

The first time we came across The Gremlin we’d just left the gym and he was hanging around outside (obviously waiting for his next victim). Now, I’ve been quite taken by all the cute doggies in Ibiza and am always cooing over and stroking little pooches in the street. So, I suppose it was my fault for trying to treat this grumpy old git like the others. He took one look at my hand, which was about to give him a tickle, his eyes went wild and he tried to savage me. It was just like in the film when the Gremlins go bad after midnight.

Well, I leapt so high in the air a woman who was watching what was happening from across the road nearly fell off her chair because she was laughing so hard. It was funny, but we’ve been sworn enemies since. Actually, I’m pretty scared of him - I even saw a little puppy version and my heart started pounding.

I’m not the only one he tries to bite. It’s basically anyone who goes near him. Just before these photos were taken we pulled up in the car just in time to see him attack a woman who was walking past him. The worst thing is that I’ve seen him roaming around other parts of Santa Eulalia - he obviously rules the roost in this town and it aint big enough for both of us. Although, I wouldn’t put your money on me getting the better of him.

Party people

This is our new car! I don’t know how Mr B did it, but he managed to talk me into buying this mean machine. I’m not sure about the colour and I think it might be tricky to park, but any scratches I create will be covered up by the go-faster stripes.

Did I fool you? I’m not sorry, but Mr B is, to say that this isn’t our new car. I’m pleased to say that this one is…

That’s more like it. I don’t think it was what Mr B had in mind when he said he wanted a car that had a “huge lump of pig iron under the bonnet”, but it’s perfect for Ibiza Town’s tiny parking spaces.

Sadly this isn’t our new car either. We’ve still got the trusty Saxo.

These beauties are from the Santa Eulalia fiesta, where there were collections of classic cars and motorbikes for the gente mayor (old folks) and suped up cars that would have graced the pages of the boy racer bible Max Power, for the youngsters.

Talking about the gente mayor, they are a funny bunch and just as grumpy as their English counterparts. They are a tough crowd to please, as we witnessed when watching the local band “rocking” the fiesta. I don’t think any of them even cracked a smile.

Here’s the proof…

Apologies for the bad photography. I had to take these on the sly - you can even see one man giving me the evil eye.

The fiesta was pretty good, except we missed the dancing horses and a massive firework display that was to end the celebrations just didn’t happen - arguably the two most exciting bits. However, we did see a 1664 (a woman who looks 16 from behind, but 64 from the front) dancing to the band, totally monged out. I suppose some things in Ibiza don’t change. We were praying she wasn’t English.