Less Huey

I always seem to hurt myself in waves. First my head, then this (getting an icecream from the 711)…

The next day I found out what it’s like to be Simon. On the way to work my toe strap snapped, mid-skid, fucking my balance and sending my sprawling. It was fun trying to hide my bleeding/weeping wound from all the people I had lessons with that day (unsuccessfully).

Here’s my new straps (and stem and bars) for all you bike nerds. The Jewiest bike in Jewpan is now a whole lot poofier.

I designed (in a way) my first tattoo. I drew this straight on Oli’s arm. It took about 30 shots and it was still rough as guts. But he was happy with it?

Then Mark inked it in…

Tom’s arrived (and managed to make my bike look like a 16″ bmx)

I’ve heard that it’s illegal to be topless in Shibuya, but no one was going to fuck with this - Gang-stars.

We took Tom on the compulsory tour of Don Quixote and he was overwhelmed (it may have had something to do with the lack of sleep, long flight from Sweden, lack of food and copious alcohol). Oli told a J-milf that his pussy hurt and she told him to “shut the fuck up” in the most efficient Japanese I’ve heard yet.

We did things right…

We showed Tom what Tokyo is all about. Fireworks, Yoyogi Park, getting in trouble and riding bikes (when your wasted – for some). We’ve invented a new form of vandalism – hanabi tags. Shortly after this photo, a couple of 60 year old park security guys came and told us that fireworks weren’t allowed. So, we packed up and moved to another, sketchier, out-of-the-way part and took it up a notch. We were interrupted again by the lights of the security guys bikes, so we got ready and when they came close we bailed and fanged off on them (rather easily) to an even more secluded part of the park, where we performed our grand finale and contentedly made our way home.