As most of you  still remember Brkon, I thought it might be time to let you know how I fared. Suffice to say that things are looking up!  The plight of Bratislava’s male youth is a common story of many having survived years surrounded by so many mouth-wateringly beautiful Slovakian women. Many fall for their beauty and as the years go by love takes its toll and many are left to their deeply ingrained vices, end up wandering the streets, impoverished and looking unshaven. You might see them hanging around the Bratislavan market places, scrounging for alms with a nostalgic wish to return those earlier times steeped in love and seductions. They so desperately remain in search of ‘happy’, but as the years relentlessly marches they pay a heavy price. They are now the outcasts, the societal flotsam washed up like the so may sullied and used condoms along the banks of the Danube River, carelessly thrown overboard by the Rhine- Danube River crowds drunk with cruising for love. The lot for so many tortured souls.

This is what happened to this Brkon. They say the first step to recovery is to admit  one’s compulsive habits. If you still remember my adventures with the lovely Svetlana so many years ago including my first youthfully bursting experiences on the silken smooth valley of the svelte lilies, you might also recall how my dear old Nana had a nice little earner going with her sly-grog slivovitz operation inside the cow-shed. The combination of so much of my Nana’s duty-free slivovitz and so many warm thighs made me a debauched and lost soul sadly wandering the Danube’s river bank. In vain I searched for the anchor that would hold me steady. I knew there had to be something more to life than sex and booze. It does. Listen carefully.

Late one night, I was again listlessly wandering along the Danube River’s bank. The distant sparkling lights of Bratislava once again beckoning me. I knew that surrender to yet another night of loneliness and despair had become such hopeless course. It was an endless routine, falling again for a whore’s bloated blue veined listless limbs aided by Nana’s slivovitz. I had reached rock bottom.

I kicked a bottle shimmering in the light of the Danube’s ghoulish moon. I noticed something inside it. I pulled the cork off and shook the contents into my hand. It was indeed a message that for extra protection was wrapped inside a condom. The silver foil had “drsny jazdec kondom” printed on it. I knew enough English that it was a popular condom sometimes colloquially known as ‘rough riders’. The message had just two words, “Pigs Arms”. How odd. Little did I know it would set into action a most fortuitous chain of events that would lead me once again back on the virtuous path of wholesome decency and survival.

After arrival in my sparsely furnished room I opened my laptop and Googled those two mysterious words “Pig’s Arms”. It gave me the web- address and I immediately send of an S.O.S using the pseudonym of ‘Gerard’. You by now know my real identity of Brkon but let me make amends for keeping up the pretense of being ‘Gerard’ with a Dutch ancestry. I am Slovakian and really Brkon. I am capable of so many things but with slivovitz and the Siren Call of heavenly thighs have wasted so much of my potential.

Since re-connecting with The Pig’s arms I have come not only good but also into a lucrative financial opportunity as well. Let me share this with all of you. Through the turn- around of my life I have landed a job as a croupier at the Eurovea Mall on the banks of the Danube. Isn’t it an amazing coincidence that the River Danube with its vile booty of sad condoms and a bottle cast by a certain P/Arms client has been the catalyst of so much glad tidings?

As I now deal with bets as well as many wealthy clients, an opportunity has come my way of making some money for Slovakia but also for the Pig’s Arms. It involves a wealthy client who wishes to use the pig’s Arms to advertise an online gambling venue in Bratislava. I would not be so presumptuous as to speak for all the Pigs Arms Clientele, but … with The House of Pain and the back room somewhat quiet of late (even with the doubling of extra pain without charge) and Grannies wedges been replaced with the Sushi-bar next door, it does present a way of getting some money back in continuing the ever growing P/Arms.

Hardly a day goes by when it doesn’t receive over three hundred ticks. Most of them from Europe including but not only, Eastern Europe and the UK,  even from Finland, Iceland and Greece. Then many from Brazil, Indonesia, Japan, Australia and the United Emirates. By the sheer persistence of the writers and respondents, the P/Arms Blog has come to the attention of advertisers. The money offered is not large but it is real and who knows what the future brings… So, what does the Pigs Arms feel about all this? I know we are a bit left of the right but ,if some mulla comes our way; it will be to reimburse what has been spent. Or at best for bread and lentils. We will never become Gina or a Packer.

Let us know and brainstorm how you feel about it. It’s for the Pig’s Arms.

Regards: Brkon at Eurovea.