Martyn Glanville

Johnny on the spot

MILLIONS, I know, have been waiting for my latest post.

Sorry about the delay. Been busy launching the new site but have finally got the damn thing out. Yes, I know there are some mistakes and we're working to fix them.

Much has been through my head since my last scribbling. I've been wondering which of many subjects to waffle about - how the wife's iPhone broke when she dropped it onto grass; football, inevtiably; new Google Labs stuff. But what have I settled on to mark my entrance into 2009?

Rubber johnnies. Condoms. Sheaths.

I've been in Denmark for nearly three years now and it occurred to me the other day that I have not seen a single discarded johnny on the streets. They seemed to be everywhere back in Croydon, withered and dying, tossed (boom-tisch!) in kerbs, phone boxes or in parks.

Such a disgraceful way to dispose of one of life's semi-necessities. Just another form of litter.

Danes, it would seem, don't just chuck their used rubbers into or onto the nearest convenience. I can only guess they bin them somewhere more discreet.

But then, they are a clean people. Swimming pool changing rooms display large posters instructing where exactly you need to wash yourself both before and after you've stroked a few lengths (boom-tisch-tisch!). Do it or die. I've never been anywhere where so many men honk of not aftershave but sickly body sprays. You go to a work meeting and choke when some fella walks in smelling worse than a 13-year-old boy who thinks Lynx is the key to success with the ladies.

The message is clear: "We are clean."

I myself, am not. Not to their level. I shower daily (though sometimes not at weekends, to be honest - mostly if we're having company), I brush my teeth and get a haircut every 10 or 12 weeks. True, I follow the warning posters in the swimming baths, mostly out of the fear of being lynched by sudds-up naked men should I ignore their fearsome commands. And they provide good scrubbing equipment - even for kids: special shower attachments, plastic tubs in a variety of sizes, hot water - they've got the lot.

So why do people in England through spent condoms away in the street? I think it's an English humour thing. I think the tossers (boom-tisch-tisch-tisch!) snigger inside at the thought of someone finding their mess and being repulsed by it. And a part of me finds that funny and repulsive in equal measure.

Danes often say to me, "We have the same sense of humour as you English," (usually followed by, "I love Blackadder"). Maybe I'll put that claim to the test.

I'm sure I've still got some Mates that could help me.

Minced boy

Image by FredArmitage via FlickrJUST HAD lunch.

A burger with onions, bit of salad. As I was filling my plate, a colleague remarked in Danish upon seeing the burger, "Ah, hakketdreng."

I replied in English, "See? That's how bad my Danish is. I just thought you said the burger was a "minced boy"."

"I did. It's slang for a burger."

Check the diary

Image by Agent Smith via FlickrONE OF the things I like about living in Denmark is how it operates, for the most part, like clockwork. A grand overstatement, of course, but there is a certain fixed routine about the place that gives one a sense of comfort - if you are obsessed about organisation and preparation like I am.

Christmas approaches and yet it was only a few days ago that my home city of Copenhagen suddenly went festive. A few days ago - the first of December. Now I can't move for lit trees, burning candles in windows and the sudden arrival of traditional and tasty little ginger biscuit snacks that can be found all over the workplace. If I remember England correctly, Christmas seemed to start at the end of August as shelves started filling with tins of Quality Street and Peter Kay 'best of' DVD compilations shimmered in their plastic wrapping at every checkout.

It's not just Christmas that works to a strict schedule. The ice cream parlours at the seaside seem to open on the 1st of May and close at the end of September. Nevermind if there's an indian summer where you could make a few quid more as people get out to enjoy surprise weather. No, summer has ended. Obey.

Danes holiday in the same fashion. The first half of the year in Denmark is peppered with public holidays, long weekends and so on (I read once they have more public holidays than any country in Europe, but I am not sure if that's true). Everyone goes somewhere at the same time, and you are expected to do the same. "Where will you be for the holiday?" I am frequently asked.

And there's the rub. As said at the start, I am an organisation obsessive, a person who loves timetables and keeps their watch five minutes fast to stay just ahead of the game.

But I am not very good at it. Where will I be for the holiday? I simply never get my shit together in time. We are always at home because we never remember to check when the holidays are. We never remember to conform.

So my routine is shaped by the routine of others. Others do things, while I am reminded that I forgot to do things.

It seems appropriate for Johnny Foreigners like me.