"bonjour marakkesh me old mucka"

Here I stand, Marrakesh arrivals, 10.04 in the morning, just having necked a half bottle of bubbly, slightly dazed and warm, very warm, mentally judging the most peculiar of outfits Some may refer to such ensembles as fascinating I, prefer peculiar. For example the girl (or rather woman, knocking on 40 I'd say) is a fine example of why white skinny jeans should be made unavailable to us mere mortals if you're not 6ft tall and 7stone wet through, step away! yes they come in sizes 0-22, yes they "give" but come on that does not mean we should all buy them, least of all wear them. Now I have to be careful here, I don't want to meander off down an alley similar to that of the Marrakesh variety where you get so lost you end totally and literally up shit creek, at which point at least 3 very young locals will appear with much need paddle! For a "fair price" a "very good price, miss England in it" we settle on "best price" I swiftly move on with my camel leather best quality paddle.


You see this is the problem when taking the girl out of Essex I am supposed to be describing lights, DE-lights and hi-lights of Marrakesh, which believe me it has many, many ,many however, instead of musing over the Musee DE Marrakesh or pondering over the palace, I am again without qualification fashion policing. The crazed looking bird in front of me really does look like she has sprayed on her not so "giving" or forgiving white jeans, rolled in super glue and ram raided the Moroccan equivalent of Claire's accessories, never heard the phrase less is more? I've seen less barbie bling at a 4 year old's princess party.

Anyhow back to Marrakesh with its many wonders, I can not emphasize enough how much you all should visit, yes all of you, I'd hate anyone to miss out, this place, its amazing, I feel I want to scream or cry immediately on arriving, I feel as if I've walked onto a fifteenth century film set, it's as if everyone here including the other tourists are putting on a show just for me! sorry us! it's exciting, passionate, smouldering, romantic,and genuine, no acting here no sire, well not much. Of course there are the few imposters trying to make a DH(Marrakesh buck) but most everyone else is just doing what they do. The young boys showing you to your riad for that all important 20p. The big burly women in burkers yielding henna tattoo ink pens, trying with conviction to grapple you to the ground "you actually do need a henna scarred hand it's this season's must have!"The old man telling Arabic tales with such animation and venom, which leads me seamlessly onto snakes. No Essex girl does not feel the need to have one draped around her silk adorned shoulders (well silk is just so reasonable here)but she watches in bewildered fascination as the amused charmer plays his pipe. Snake rises and dances in time (can't help thinking said snake has seen better days, is rather fed up with same bloody tune or at least must have a headache), but exotically speaking it captures any eastern promise that happens to be in you. The smell, sounds and sights around you all become so real; burning incense, thunderous drums, shouts in Arabic, fresh peppermint tea, hashish (ahem), even the praying sounds musical, it's what dreams are made of. Then BAM! back to reality, miss lumpy legs in all her spangly glory takes our cobra friend and drapes him around her bare, yes "ignorant to the local customs bare," shoulders. I lose my sense of romance quicker than Heather Mills lost the plot, really - only Liz Hurley should be allowed to wear white jeans. And wouldn't you know it, Not So Little Miss I don't care if everyone gets a good look at my dimples or my "bare" sun burned shoulders, was English. The shame!