Saturday, 16 July 2011

Mouh + The Raqasa = Aloha from Hell

For today's post to make any sense, please refresh your memories of the wondrous Mouh Friend.
The perfect outfit for a day on which you attend both a hula workshop and a hafla?
A week ago today, The Raqasa posted about going to a hula workshop and a hafla. She said that if she was not too tired she would post the next day about her experiences. So where has she been this last week, no one asked? With me, my friends. With me. Fatigue did not claim her - I did. In a way.
Our story goes like this. On Sunday I sent an email to The Raqasa. She responded immediately. To Mouh, women always respond immediately. It is The First Law of the Cosmos. "Meet me," I said. "Discard your nun-chucks of desire on the road of satisfaction and meet me."
Two hours later we are together in my lavish but humble dwelling place, in the Land of Much Lightening and Enormous Eagles. "It has been a hell of a time to get here," said The Raqasa, who insisted I called her 'Clare'. For some reason. "First I had to  cross a river of boiling blood. Then I had to battle a hoard of spirits. Then I had to outwit some screaming harpies, and other such half-remembered horrors from Philip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass. And then there was a signal failure on the Northern Line."
Mouh Friend is renowned for his bravery, my friends, but even he shuddered at this last. The Raqasa who is now called Clare then said, "Do you have anything to drink?" We drank.
She described her Saturday. The hula workshop was both informative and fun, she said. She learnt many things, and was embarrassed by her inability to uwehe. Also, she found out that Tamsin from Hula UK is totes awesome. Clare talked and talked and drank and drank. Mouh began to weary, my friends.
Then Clare talked some more, about the Brixton Summer Hafla. The dancers were all "amazing", especially Xanthe doing her first-ever solo (and, according to Clare, if no one had told her it was Xanthe's first solo, she never would have guessed). The 'suprise performance' was from Ozgen. Aiwa! The same Ozgen as the one you are probably thinking of, my friends. She described "a bloody weird" veil dance to Roxette's Listen to Your Heart. This is not a song that Mouh was familiar with, but having listened to it 30 times on the YouTube, I must say it is a song to cradle your lover to when she is sad. I do not understand the mentality of the 128 users of the YouTube who have indicated their dislike for the song. 
The fact that the dancer was "floor humping" to this song made me wish very much that I, Mouh Friend, could also have been at the Brixton Summer Hafla. At this point, I have started to think that, despite her defeating of my Facebook friends and her harrowing journey to the Land of Much Lightening and Enormous Eagles, perhaps Clare and I are not meant to be. Also, she is wearing a wedding ring. Mouh would do anything for love, my friends, but he just won't do that.
While my thoughts are wandering, Clare is still talking. And drinking. She talked of how she bought a drink at the hafla and was shocked and delighted in equal measure when her paper cup was filled with rum and then topped up with ginger ale. She talked of how the friend who accompanied her to the hafla was burgled that same night. Also, of getting the night bus home from Brixton to north London. This last story was very boring.
When she had drained the last from her glass, Mouh made a hard decision. I bade Clare return to the world above. "But it will take me ages," she said, with what I detected was a note of complaint. "If you want me to go, I will. But if my blog hasn't been updated on Friday, I want you to update it for me because it means I'm still on my way home. Getting here only took two hours because I was fuelled with desire and an urgent need to pee, but I am less motivated to get back. Here are the blog's log-in details, which I will change as soon as I can. If you alter or delete any of my other posts, I will teach Jilly the Colossal Squid, belly dancer and agony aunt, to wield nun-chucks and come back for your Enormous Eagle-mastering butt."
(I know that Clare was not really upset about the amount of time it was going to take her to get home. Really, she was heartbroken that Mouh was not going to make her A Friend. But a woman who will claw the eyes out of strangers and brandish nun-chucks is not a woman who will let the man she is set on spending her life with see her cry, even if that man has deemed her to be unworthy of him.)

Mouh is a man of his word. This is the post she bade me write. So, my friends. Mouh is still available. But I have twice as many Facebook friends as I did when The Raqasa first fought for me, and one of them is a star of adult film. You know the odds you must surmount. So surmount!


  1. Truly, poor Mouh has suffered greatly. Although perhaps not more so than the audience members lucky enough to witness the bloody weird veil dance. Sounds worthy of its own post!

  2. Mwahahaha! That might have to be last time that we hear from Mouh - I have been asked if I don't think that I might be on the verge of 'victimising' him. Sigh.

    And yes, the veil dance. Have you read Shimmies, Sequins and Slippers on belly dancers using pop songs? Interesting stuff.

  3. No dont kill off Mouth, I find him very entertaining! ;-)

    Lets hope our friend Anonymous Commenter doesn't lambaste poor old Mouth next for his perceptions on said veil dance- although I am sure they would be said with ALL DUE RESPECT ;-)

  4. Fwoar Ozgen *cough*...

    Aloha to Mouh Friend also, it is a shame we hula ladies were not graced by his magnificent presence.

    Floor humping? With a veil? To Roxette? Was this hafla on another planet?