Tuesday, 20 May 2008

#1 Every End Has A Beginning...

Greetings and salutations, good people, and wecome to the beginning. This may become a regular diatribe, this may be incredibly irregular, this may well be the one and only entry I make (those cunts who know me best would be doing well to get dibs on the middle choice. Myself, forever the cynical optimist, expect the first but am dreading it will be the last...)



Despite the frequency, don’t expect a blow by blow account of this faraway place. You will not be told of every trip to Tesco’s, and its subsequent purchase; every time I take a piss, and the amount of shaking afterwards. Quality will be the aim of the game, people, not quantity. It will be random, it will most likely be largely pointless, and it will hopefully be smile worthy. I have no doubt this first entry will be the longest, And considering I’m three parts asleep it may be incomprehensible. But I’ll give it a crack, that you can bet on...


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Two things I’ve learnt about the kindly people of Malaysia...



1/ It appears to me their entire language is based around ‘dung’ and ‘dong’. How the fuck they can create a knowledgeable society around two words is beyond me. To provide example, allow me to translate my flight captain.


Captain in Malaysian: Sera dungadong gungudung, maradongo sepa dong, sheeta cuntee, pungadong Malaysia gonadung. apoodungo 13 DUNG dungadong, ding...


Captain in English (of sorts): Good afternoon Passengers, I am your captain, sheeta cuntee, and welcome to Malaysia airlines. We hope you enjoy your 13 HOUR flight, enjoy...



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2/These people must be the worst shot in the world! I’m guessing their death penalty doesn’t include firing squad these days... And yes that is mostly piss on the floor, the bottom of my jeans can attest to that. Connoisseurs will note the colour of the water. I haven’t used it yet, by the way. I do have some class for Christ’s sake. Apparently they like to let the yellow mellow on the equator...

WRITERS NOTE: I know what you’re thinking, I said I wouldn’t be talking about my own piss, not others... So suck on that.



Aaah, I feel my horizons broadening already...



Well that’s me for the minute folks. I’m sitting in a hotel room for the price of which I would normally sell a kidney, or at least be considering an offer from a big black sailor named Willy May, and would like to get my moneys worth in sleep.



Until next time - if there is one - Find the Joy, people.



PS. If any one else is thinking of travelling, and the lovely lady at Flight Centre tells you of ‘a new system that allows you to check your bags at Hobart and not worry about them till you get to London.’ Punch your fist up her vagina, and pull out the women's bits...Idiots like her need to be stopped from ruining the gene pool.



Or at the very least say no...

2 comments:

Buddy's Mate Watto said...

Gold Tonks, pure Gold!

I love the name of your flight attendant. Did you giggle when they said Cuntee? Nice Facebook photo aswell!

Watto

Bush Mechanic said...

Nicely done.
That Indian was lucky that you did not have your cricket bat handy.

Keep up the good work.

Remember, we want to see a photo of you in your free club VanderSex T-Shirt.

:-)