Hello internet, I just updated Ghentelman.com with a new post about my forthcoming mess of a career as a swimming coach. Have a read why don’t you and help me fight school slag one slag at a time! 

Australian readers: ‘slag’ is one of the best words you can possibly hope to learn in Dutch. School slag translates roughly to ‘school stroke’ (which is dutchie for breaststroke) and more importantly – *Slagroom* – means whipped cream. Get that freakin tattooed somewhere, you will not regret it.



After a mere 17 calls, I finally secured two crates of cherished Westvleteren beer for pick up next week.

For folks back home, Westvleteren is a notoriously hard beer to acquire, sold only from the brewery and limited to two crates per car, per 60 days.

The two crates can only be ordered, usually two weeks before hand, by calling the brewery “beer hotline” between 930 and 12.

This beer hotline appears to be a solitary cheery chap, gladly taking his orders in glorious West Flemish.

Today, is a good day!

G’day tigers,

I just spent the past 17 minutes moving my site from wordpress.com to Ghentleman.com, which means if you’re one of the ten people that still use RSS it’s time to update your google readers.

There’s a high chance that somewhere in those 17 minutes I clicked on the wrong whosit and definitely accidentally deleted a whatsit, so in all likelihood you may never hear from me again.

Here’s hoping eh?

Yours truly,


‘100’ (from 0 to 100 years in 150 seconds) from Filmersblog on Vimeo.

A little on the Dutch-Dutch side, but this Fleming-to-be found the 80 year olds Dutchies reading their ages absolutely adorable.

What better way to learn to count ’til your Dutch-hearts-content than by counting on up to the happiest 100 year old you’ll find!


Just days after posting my video about Australia’s response to Big Nuts, out comes a limited edition “Dark Chocolate” version.

Same ol’ Big Nuts, now just a little bit darker.

I swear these Belgians are marketing these things directly to me. And why not? I’ll probably end up buying my fair share of these things in my (attempts to lift the euro out debt.

For man and country, I choose Big Nuts.


In April (yes! April) I took a bag of my Flemish Grandmothers’ favourite chocolates from Belgium to Australia and asked all of my former folk to tell me how much they loved them. Turns out my Big Nuts were quite impressive.

Some choice quotes:

“My life had a gaping hole in it until Chris slipped in his Big Nuts”

“My wife really gets it off on my Big Nuts”

“When it comes to that special treat, nothing beats that rich velvety feel of my Big Nuts”

“Thanks for giving Chris some Big Nuts to bring back to Australia! We generally have just regular sized nuts here, so thanks very much!”

“Citycat riders choose Big Nuts”

“It’s not often in Australia I’m handed a pair of Big Nuts”

World of Chocolate, I hope you’re taking notes. Try and keep up.

Waterloo (win the war of the playground)

I went to Waterloo (I was defeated, you won the war) yesterday, and played on a swing. It was without doubt the highlight of my week.

Other waterloo highlights were the fun times at the local supermarket, delicious Waterloo Tripel in distinguished ceramic glass, and finally ending the minutes of tension between the Flemish and Neapolitan armies.

Waterloo Tripel - really tasty!

Tasty Tasty Tasty!

For the past six months or so I’ve been cautiously walking past at brisk speeds to ignore Hilde Devolder’s chocolate shop, out of fear of enjoying her products to a point that I’d become a daily customer.

Whilst walking my dear Neapolitan friend through the charming streets of Ghent, Hilde’s shop jumped from behind a parked bike, and my game was up. We had no choice but to venture inside.

Hilde specializes in tiny boxes of even tinier chocolates, each piece measuring no more than a square centimeter. These tiny sizes mean equally tiny amounts of guilt, which can lead to an entire box consumed in minutes, instead of the typical hour or so chocolate giants like Neuhaus or Godiva command.

Highlights from the first box include the peanut brittle, marzipan, and whatever that last one I had (especially biscuity in a way a biscuit could never have been).

For easter Hilde has prepared a large variety of amazing creations, some of which I may try to export back to some lucky non-blog-reading parents come Easter time.

Hilde presents an amazing challenge to the Belgian chocolate industry – her choice of tiny chocolates makes sharing a joy, and stopping consumption all the harder!

Neuhaus, consider yourself warned!

Non-Alcoholic Jupiler *with* alcoholic Jupiler. What a badass.

5.2% Jupiler in an alcohol-free Jupiler glass.

They don’t get more Belgian Badass than this. With every glass of sneaky pintje, the chance of deportation only grows.

Don’t tell the feds!

The past three days we’ve had the pleasure of hosting a dear Napolitana girl, who we have been corrupting with Belgian beers, stews and other assorted customs.

Several years ago she hosted us in her home town, where I was so overwhelmed with southern Italian hospitality it took me some months to recover.

This time however, she introduced me to the term Pusteggia, a particularly Neapolitan verb with a very Neapolitan meaning:

To be stuck in traffic with your friends (always of the same sex) and use this time to attempt to entice cars full of members of the other sex, with little to no chance of anything ever eventuating

Pusteggia can last an entire evening, and is best practiced on weekends, though can just as easily occur on weekdays