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On National Bitch Slap Day, the pentagram delivered the angel numbers to the house in Bakal 2 thus marking the copulation of heaven with earth to usher an equilibrium between desire and intelligence as an orchestra of boiled head meat, samgyeopsal, jokbal, sundae, melting pork lard and jamon entertained she-who-must-not be-named with a rendition of the Korean Pork Belly Rhapsody while in another table, Newt Scamander added butchered pieces of fantastic beasts in a boiling pot of shabu-shabu as an apology for bringing too much pansit and unwanted brandy that were listed to be among The Crimes of Grindelwald.

Two sinadags later, Crowley came with adobong kambing and pinangat na hito cooked in fire from hell while Aziraphale conjured chicken wings teriyaki and pigar-pigar with a blow of an angel's breath to bless the Thursday Club with Good Omens on National Hug Day, the script for Episode 2 of Lupin tucked in a frozen samgyeopsal  for Assane Diop to unlock and solve the riddle of aborted erotic dreams.

Voluptuousity will tease the loins but can never Rock My Heart, that according to the Angel of Death who chronicled The Hunt for a Nazi War Criminal in Bertioga where Fritz Hollman metamorphosed to Helmut Gregor, Jose Mengele, Wolfgang Gerhard, Dr. Fausto Rindon and S. Josi Alvers Aspiazu between sips of Fundador and Emperador in a moment trapped between Monday and Thursday as Jana rode the black stallion to win the Rhineland Cup in Cologne.

Meanwhile, the Phantom Bikers crossed the Sahara from Tangiers with 4L-fitted bikes and arrived in Timbuktu where Mamadou and all 51 of them were swallowed by Ely's parched Spanish pussy.  

ENTER THE AMAZON

It's a sin to leave food in the table so the Phantom Bikers indulged Ngaio's herb buffet to whip up their appetite for last week's leftover French toast, trainwreck tuffle mac and cheese, stuffed grape leaves, bacon western sliders and cannimal style burger, al pastor style pork and braised tangine chicken

Meanwhile in Dublin, Jimmy Mahon and Ursula Sweeney turned out as the main protagonists in Season 2 before Globe handed a free 6-month Amazon subscription but The Search for the Real Mt. Sinai was a dud and Da Vinci Code Decoded turned out to be indecipherable until the last half of Trekking the Great Wall brought the Phamtom Bikers to Xishuangbanna where wild peacocks frolick in Guilin's Li River that flow and die in Dunhuang's desert before resurrecting as ice castles in Harbin. 

But still, Amazon wilted in presence of Lola who shone brighter than The Lighthouse of the Orcas in Patagonia, or Mogli's spirited adventure during Expedition Happiness where she and the Phantom Bikers crossed through Canada, the United States and Mexico in 7 days.

That was before John Randolph Bently and Petra Andropov time travelled from 1973 Budapest to scour Kursk, Moscow, London, Paris, Accra, Kentucky and Pyongyang for Stilleto 6 and the cicadas of Treadstone that brought them to a widow in Bakal 2, keeper of pale pilsen and extra strong potions which knocked off three of the Phantom Bikers before the Perfect Elus gathered and the Amaranths reconvened for the penultimate Sunday conclave where Jack Ryan and James Greer played hide-and-seek with Mousa bin Suleiman and Nicolas Reyes through the dark politcs of Washington DC, Paris, Syria, Turkey and Caracas.  

A NETFLIX OVERDOSE

I was kidnapped in Hongkong.

We were vacationing there (and Macau) in 2013 when someone Cooking on High for Burning Bright Production struck a conversation and offered a cod cake with girl scout cookies.

Everything was a blur after that until Schenzen's Futian Railway Station where it was announced during a dinner of medicated quinoa, black bean puree and potato gnocchi with sausage that I am a guest in Joanna Lumley's Trans-Siberia Adventure, the ensuing THC rush propelling the G72 bullet train 2,372 kilometers to Beijing in a 10-minute time warp where hallucinogenic forces aligned China's Hidden Wonders along the train track for a magical show, the pristine lakes of Jiuzhaigou Valley cascading in slow motion through the stone pinnacles of Zhangjiajie and Mount Huangshan, the ancient cities of Shanghai and Wuzhen fusing with Shangri-La like melted Tibetan yak butter.

That was May but August in Beijing as infused French onion soup, voodo shrimp and pan-fried corn bread from the Kang Ming Hotel breakfast buffet recreated Typhoon Maring during the changing of the guards at Tiananmen Square as a thousand ghosts of the Forbidden City's concubines lured me with a lunch of fortified ganja-mole salad shrimph a la diabla that teleported me to Datong instead of Balading for a tour of the Great Wall, totally stoned until a Mongolian shaman exorcised the euphoria of tetrahydrocannabinol with an offering of feremented mare's milk and a lulaby from Ulaan Bataar's throath singers.

We crossed into Russia through Ulan Ude and met with Dr. Augustine Lofthouse under The Midnight Sky of Siberia to inquire if Joanna will be able to lubricate on board the Aether or in Jupiter's habitable moon but she is as menopausal as Irkutsk's frozen Lake Baikal despite the wild mushrooms and pomegranate from Kranorask although doing pennance at Yekaterinburg's Holy Trinity Cathdral, a ballet lesson in Perm and solitary confinement at Moscow's Bunker 42 might help. 

In Bakal 2, the Thursday Club get high on beer, soju and roasted chicken during a quarantined Holiday in the Wild with Kate and Derek and their Zambian elephant son but those who wear funny caps were like Seventeen and virgins, not like Hector and Ismael who had a hit during their Cantabrian mischief that was just enough for Manolo to push Ramon through the last 100 Meters of mutating into a Spanish ironman. 

Our psychedelic trip then U-turned to 2006 in Japan with Sue Perkins where Tokyo's stout female sumo wrestlers sparred with demure male geishas of Kyoto and the venerable  non-binary ama divers from Ishe-Sima for the prize of bringing home a harassed salaryman who aspired of becoming a pop idol, the crowd at the Ryogoku Kokugikan sedated by pots of cannabis tea being dispensed by a maid cafe waitress whose solo wedding was officiated by the forest bathing shinto spirits of the Kii Mountains as cosplay pushed fantasy further into renting-a-family and speed dating. 

I am the Phantom Biker and I stand with Elizabeth Butler, Frances O'Flaherty and May Lacy in Season 1 of a Rebelion against the oppressors of the Irish people, 170.7 kilometers of solidarity stringed across 7 days, overdosing on Netflix and imagining a Covid-free fictional world.