Awkward First Date In Stalin's Top Secret Exclusion Zone

Did you know that I really, really like visiting abandoned sites of post-industrial dereliction destroyed by the temerities of squalid world history yet imbued with the reflective pathos of neglect and the capacity for transformational sublimity in their articulation of humanity's relentless desire for The New? Did you? Did you? Or do you only read the cock gags? Well, it's a lonely bloody business finding solitude in rusted steelworks, no matter how many 'Likes' the North Korean theme park got on Facebook. That's why, when I decided to take a trip to the crumbling remains of Paldiski, the USSR's isolated, off-limits submarine city, I figured I'd invite some young hussy along for the ride, to overcome the usual sexlessness of these kind of stories with an exciting, all-new 'Did He Pull?' narrative and to possibly see some boobs.

That's Agni, she's Estonian and in this picture I'm blinding her with flash as she's stood in pitch black in an underground nuclear bunker. Did I pull her? God you guys are only interested in one thing.

I met Agni about two hours before we entered the bunker (love bunker?), after she responded to an email I posted on a local forum saying she'd be up for joining me on an adventure to the former barb-wire surrounded, armed-guard exclusion zone of Paldiski, on the northernmost tip of the Baltic peninsula.

Once the largest secret facility of its kind in the USSR, during its heyday Paldiski employed over 16,000 people sworn to secrecy to run its extensive nuclear submarine facilities and naval training centres. The massive exclusion zone was surrounded by machine-gun wielding border control devils who would shoot your toes off if you tried to sneak across without a proper permit. If that isn't a landscape that screams 'frothing aphrodisiac' then I don't know maybe I'm not the Urbex Casanova after all and just some guy who needs to rent 'What Women Want' and learn how to finger.

Today about 4000 people live in the still-inhabited township of Paldiski, about an hours walk from the remains of the coastal complex. It's pretty quiet, the only things coming in and out of the train station during our visit were heavyweight oil tankers.

People in Paldiski live in nice buildings like this….

…have a strong sense of community…

…and are not at all afraid that all that left-over nuclear junk Fido keeps digging up in the garden will one day result in their kids growing extra fingers, that will in turn glow in the dark, and possibly shoot radioactive laser beams.

So much of the world's tyranny and subterfuge is facilitated by the humble train track (it's great for shipping slaves, uranium, weapons etc. etc.), I knew following this path would take us out to some secluded wilderness where only the brave might tread. And, I figured, girls love bravery, so Agni would be mine, mine, mine!

First thing we happened upon were these former soldiers' barracks, which were protected from trespassers by a thin piece of plastic cordon, which I smashed out the way in an act of manliness.

Inside it was borrrrring!

Although when I found this on the floor I wasn't sure if I'd discovered the truth about the Soviet jackal jawline or just a pair of the Lindow Man's princely boots.

Whilst we were in the old canteen Agni pretended to serve me lunch, and the experience took might right back to the innocence of my school days. This sexy regressive role play game reminded me of the time I found my ten year old self rubbing against the cushion in a funny way whilst watching Jet from Gladiators on ITV, and afterwards down there smelt funny. It seemed me and Agni were bonding fast.

Quickly I searched for a new venue for our lusty encounter to continue, but unfortunately this seemed to be the only free bed left in the building.

Plus some other poor dame probably got her heart broken out here before, and left a warning on the walls to warn subsequent female visitors (who all read it out loud in their heads like they've just been asked, "What's beating on you, girlfriend?"… "Uhhh! MEN!")

After we didn't pull in the soldiers' mess, we walked further along the coast to the remains of the former Naval Academy, which has now been picketed by a very noisy wind farm.

You know if I was a beefed-up trainee soldier prepping to kick some serious capitalist butt, I think i'd find this colourful kiddie mosaic beaming down on me during class slightly patronising. This is better suited for children at the age of 'learning to rub their dicks against cushions'.

I took a picture of this shoe as an empty symbol of the lives once lived on the ground on which we now stood, ' 'trampled' by the passage of time

Sweet! A look out post leading to an underground bunker!