Great balls of fire!

Yes, indeed, they grow them tough on Crete.

I'm told that the great fear of Corfiots called up for service militaire is to be posted to hard-ass Crete.

If Master Feltham *did* come on at Ms Fanouraki, he's very silly and must have been very very drunk.

No-one but a card-carrying twat makes a move on a local lass.

[I believe those to be Twat Père et Mère over there, not looking best pleased over their offspring's fiery cock-up.]

I'm surprised she got to his gonads first and not one of the local lads or her brothers or her dad or her uncles ... or all of 'em at once.

Either way, no jury will convict:

Ms Fanouraki will be the island's pin-up

Her money will be useless in any taverna or bar she graces

The balls-burning Electra will be jam-packed with sightseers and souvenir gatherers ...

Next time I'm over in Crete, I must pop in and ask the barman for a Sambucus niger ... I'm sure he'll know what I mean when I ask him to 'Felthamise' it.

From my favourite Blues Wailer, a stirring "Enough is Enough" piece spotted in The Indie that deserves to be translated for some of the Greek press. [Thanks, Jim.]

Wrong place, wrong time. How stories change: from thrusting his nekkid genitals against the fragrant Farounaki (hence the 2nd deg burns), it's now some bird "just came up to him and threw some party trick fuel over him. Then set him alight. He said it came from behind the bar, but it was not a drink."

Cracking good throw, in that case.

This story has 'legs' and I'll be including all decent updates together, of course, with any glams snaps of La Pyroteknia's own legs.

As you can see, the lady is easy on the eye.

Fiery Feltham-fondled Fanouraki: Nix set-up, swears Sambuca sousing sweetie.

Thought he would die: "Excruciating pain" as he went up in a fireball ~ six inch flames leaping from his chest.

Marina Farounaki: presses harassment charges ~ "needs her honour restored in society" ~ Feltham père "furious"; forensic team to check clothing for flammable liquid type (Interesting if it turns out to be other than hooch: Dahn the spout for Sambuca's "di Amore" autumn ad campaign)

British teenagers: "like animals ... they fight, they smash windows, urinate in the street, expose themselves and have unprotected sex on the beach and even in the cemetery."

Dogs and British Tourists - pame! And no less than the Swindon Advertiser has spoken.

Braised Bollocks trial - adjourned. I have a sinking feeling this whole drama will fizzle out like a damp squib (or young Feltham's wedding tackle).

I mean, when the Beeb can't even be bothered to get the heroine's name right - Fanouraki over Fanoudaki? - what hope is there for gloaters like me to stay au courant?

Loipon, "forensic experts examined the clothing Mr Feltham was wearing at the time of the incident", did they?

I assume from their silence that they found Sambuca brulé, as per the fragrant Maria's original defence.

All this is perfect timing for Aug 15 and the Assumption of the BVM when Ms Fanouradaki will be kneeling before her Name Saint to give thanks for deliverance from a plumbing worse than death.

The rest of us will be dormitioning off for the calendar's finest panegyri. I know which beanfeast *I* am choosing, and St Spirrers better get the promised rain over with before then or hold it until next week.

Burning Ring of Fire ~ Dept of Ill Wind (or whatever is the equivalent of a well-tossed cocktail burning Master Feltham real good.)

Look at this literate Wonderland blog. Admire its well- turned phrases such as,

"Logic told me from the start her story was the correct one.

The logic one gains from even a few club trips, and a little knowledge about British youth and Crete, a scene akin to Spring Break, Mexico, with the volume turned up to nightmare levels.

Now that he has left the country, if he has left the country, I don’t even need logic to know what really happened."

The author appears to be the cheery "Cooper" - bravo, ma'am, or whatever is the current accepted nez-brun form of address.

"Body" found in Crete. Dude! You just don't mess with that isle.

First off, I'm sure Maria's indignant buddies had nowt to do with it; next off, no truth that young Young's funeral pyre will be fuelled by Sambuca. OK, that's as tastelessly far into the Abyss as I'm prepared to peer.

"Raging in the streets": I warned you this story would have legs: the father of the flammable flasher has now upped his story to include crowds raging in the streets. I wish I knew what news channel that'd been on, I'd've loved to have seen a Cretan mob baying for the blood of young Stu'. Honestly, such a farce.

Trial postponed : don't bother to put it on the calendar (tho' I have, to make sure I keep pace with this farce). That's it, filed in the wagga to collect dust and then light the winter fire. Finito.

Some dude's dick - wish I could come up with a headline like that (You will, Oscar)

String up Strong: Cumbrian yoof "deported and banned from re-entering Turkey for five years, but locals who do not feel honour has yet been satisfied have set up a Facebook group titled “String Up Strong” and are calling for him to be hanged."

By the Plectrum of Plexaure, you have to laugh.

Oh tempura, oh maitake: the idiot pulls down his Y-fronts and cusses the statue of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk.

I'll type that again - Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, yep, he who led the Turkish national movement and established the Republic ... and the bloodthirstiest they can get is ... er ... set up a Facebook group??

We're talking the land of the Midnight Express, right?

I agree with the quote, namely that,

"To be honest, he’s lucky it was the police that took him – Ataturk is the father of the Turkish Republic and a national hero – the local boys wanted to kill him for being so insulting.”

Understatement, I'd say.