Previously, our German compadre' known as BorrusiaSaan had not really done anything particularly notable in this blog. Most of the stories were about the idiotic situations JingleLad and myself found ourselves in. Now, that has changed and BorrusiaSaan makes a beautiful appearance in a tale entirely of his own making, one which allows an insight into his charming personality.
I had finished my work in the wee hours of the morning and was heading home for a well deserved kip. I knew the boys were out and on the prowl as they stopped by the work earlier to say how doo. I wished them luck and they were on their way, a hop skip and a jump to the local backpackers bar which stays open till 5am. Alls well and good so far.
I made it home sound and was just getting ready to head to bed, and as I come out of the bathroom BorrusiaSaan greets me with a mischievous grin. Never mind the fact I nearly keeled over with fright, but I did manage to observe with my astute detective skills that BorrusiaSaan might be slightly inebriated. Just possibly. The fact he was holding himself upright on a bedpost was my first clue. I was curious as well as to why he was home relatively early, and still grinning away to himself. Then I clicked to the fact he might not be quite home alone, and had done rather well for himself in the classy backpackers establishment. Man points to BorrusiaSaan you would think, but read on...
So I put the earphones in, thinking that would be the only way I would drift off to sleep that night, and left BorrusiaSaan to his prey. Halfway through The Killers on my iPod I could just about make out my comrade muttering "Why!?" in a bemused voice.
'Well if anything is going to be funny tonight, this is it.' I thought to myself, and pulled out the headphones to eavesdrop on the discussion BorrusiaSaan was having with the poor girl. After a brief 15 seconds of them talking, even I could work out things were not going the way BorrusiaSaan had planned. Let's just say the girl was not as keen as he was, and our poor German colleague was a bit gutted at this. Sad, but utterly hilarious for me sitting listening to him getting shot down. I considered trying to film what could well be one of the lowest points in my friend's life, and maybe send it to his parents like the good friend I am. The camera being too far away, I decided to just sit there and quietly chortle.
BorrusiaSaan was growing in confusion, and the conversation across the room was now basically him repeating, "WTF...?" every so often. Hostel entertainment at it's very finest. He eventually decided he'd had enough, and in a heart-warming display of chivalry, the gentleman informed the young lady that he would like her to leave and find her her own way home. So basically she had to leave the hostel room at 2.30am, in the dark, try ignore the Scotsman creasing himself with laughter on the bed opposite, and find her friends in the nearby pub. Not the best of nights for her or BorrusiaSaan, but one that was brilliantly entertaining for me.
I did manage to witness a fantastic method of acquiring yourself a taxi as well. We were looking to grab one asap to head into the valley (area where pubs and clubs are) and we were struggling. JingleLad decides to take matters into his own hands and simply runs out screaming in front of the next taxi he sees, like a nethanderthal chasing a rabbit. Unsurprisingly, the taxi quickly sped off and left us again stranded. He informs us the next time he'll plan it better. As the next taxi is going by he's already in the middle of the road, ready to meet it head on. It was like a massively unfair game of chicken, drunk human versus metal car. The taxi driver veered to the right to ensure he wouldn't run JingleLad over, but our boy had anticipated this and made the same move. This carried on for a couple of seconds until the driver eventually stopped and told us to get in. JingleLad was proud as punch with himself after that, and now heralds this strategy as a foolproof way to get a taxi. Still, can't really see him promoting that to Duncan Bannantyne in the den.
We've came up with a challenge for Christmas Eve as well. The objective is to see who can wake up in the most random place imaginable on Christmas morning. So far, there's 12 people signed up from the hostel, with targets being named as the jail, hospital, a golf course, or Sydney. Could be interesting. One of the Welsh lads isn't too fussed about where he ends up, he's just aiming for distance and trying to get as far away from the hostel as possible. Be pretty difficult for him to get back as well, public transport not being the best on Christmas. I thought a class scenario would be if you went home with someone and ended up having to spend a very awkward Christmas day in their house, trying desperately to make light conversation through the turkey dinner. I really hope that happens to either BorrusiaSaan or JingleLad, that's all I want for Christmas.
We've also unearthed a slightly illegal way to make money as well over here. It's not JingleLad returning to his earlier employment selling his body, but this time him utilising his musical talents in Brisbane City Centre. He's been out busking with the bagpipes, and making a small fortune doing so. However, the only bad point about this is apparently you need a license to busk in Brisbane, which of course we don't have. We did some minor mathematics last night and worked out at his current rate, if he starts at 9, makes $80 an hour, get caught and fined $300 by 2pm, we're still comfortably winning. All in all a good days work and a fair contribution to the polis' night out, which they can only be happy about.
Have a good Christmas!
Wednesday, 21 December 2011
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
Ding ding ding!
They glared at each other through the drunken mist, each one matching the determination and aggression of the other. Their blood was up, and the rest mist had firmly descended. Were you to ask one of them what the reason for the feud was, they would struggle to tell you, all that mattered was the next move. Eventually the moment came, and one of the combatants lunged forward...
That, was a wee artistic reconstruction of the end of our Monday night. I must admit, although both myself and JingleLad were involved, most of the details are second hand. The reason for this is that if you combined the states of 'steamin', 'gassed' and 'completely pure meltit' you may just about comprehend the condition of us two on Monday. Undoubtably the worst yet in Australia, and not a condition we'll match again willingly. Apparently we decided to have a boxing match in the small hours, always the thinking man's choice. We have no recollection of that whatsoever.
I managed to culminate my pleasant evening by sleeping on top (not inside which would have been the sensible option) of a bus stop. Believe me, I was a bit confused when I woke up and the ground was 7 feet away from me. To add to my confusion, JingleLad was nowhere to be seen, and it was bright daylight. About 7am if memory serves. The working populace of the town (I have no idea where I was) were up and making the commute to Brisbane city. I take solace from the fact I would have at least made for an interesting topic of conversation throughout the early morning rush hour. In my own unique way, I'm actually just doing my bit for the community.
JingleLad (Sherlock Holmes, Wikipedia, an IPad 7 and a bag of those tablets from 'Limitless' would not be able to work out how he got home) was found face down on the road outside the hostel by one of the friendly Welsh hobbit-people This was about 4am we're told, so he was making good time on me. I was probably falling off a tree at this point, trying to reach the bus stop roof. He washelped carried up the stairs where he collapsed in the common room. He was awoken by the cleaners at 9.15, still completely blazing, and the brave young trooper made it to his work for a 8 hour shift. A collective round of applause please. I asked him later on if anybody said anything to him for being late, to which he replied "How would I ken? Ah wis only there in body."
One of JingleLad's main features is his comic outlook on life. There were two brilliant examples of this that i'd like to share with you. The first one was at that party on Monday, when he observed:
"Look at this man, they're all trying their hardest to get drunk and we're trying our hardest not to. We know how this is going to end up though..."
In the room after finding an odd sock:
"Andy can you smell this to see if it's clean, I cani mind if I've.... (Use your imagination lads, apologies girls)
So that was Monday evening, a charming account of our time in Australia. In other news, I've discovered a few interesting things about Aussie's from my time working in a bar over here. Cast your memories back if you will, to the lads/girls holidays the majority of us 80's urchins have been on. Destinations included Magaluf, Malia, Zante, Ibiza etc. Remember in the shop, buying your ammo for the evening ahead, you spot that concoction called Ouzo? Aye, pure mingin stuff, and usually used that night as some sort of forfeit. Australians drink that stuff, for pleasure. I was in the bar and someone ordered an Ouzo and lemonade, I politely inquired if he lost a bet, and he looked at me like I was the nutter. Either that or like the vast majority of people who drink at my work, he didn't understand a single thing I said. Some of the customers are genuinely scared of me when I start joking loudly with them and speaking slang, a fact that only spurs me on. There's one old boy in particular who if I'm the only one available to serve, he'll patiently wait on one of the Australians to free up, so determined is he to avoid the strange foreign oddball. One day though folks, one day I'll get him. Then it's fake Gaelic speaking time again. In a Jimmy hat, with face paint on.
Had a bit of a dispute with the tax authorities in Oz as well. They were over-taxing me massively, and today some strange money just appeared in my account. I tried to give them a wee buzz just to ensure this was them fixing their balls-up, and not some Christmas money from anyone. I was promptly told on the phone I was in the que, and my wait time was 90 minutes. Well that's just smashing isn't it chaps, what was I meant to do if Bargain Hunt was on in 10? Nicely of the tax office though, after me holding on for a bit they hung up on me. Considerate fellows, however they'll be getting no Christmas card from me.
Speaking of money appearing in your account, that reminds me of a story I heard about another traveller. He was in Thailand and utterly skint, so he bites the bullet and calls his dad for a dig out. His dad erupts with laughter upon hearing the request, and yells the following down the phone:
"AHAHAHAHA you were the tit that wanted to go traveling, told yi it was a stupit idea! Nae joy pal!"
He then played and sang along heartily to the song 'King of the Road' before hanging up. Classic.
And that's the latest update people. Christmas is approaching, although very different here in the sun. Looks like for JingleLad BorrusiaSaan and I it'll be a festive experience in a hostel, which could either be a really good laugh or as depressing as a bad result on an STI test.
Nah it'll be sweet, we'll just buy cold turkey meat and instant gravy, problem solved. Cheerio for now folks, and Merry Christmas to everyone!
That, was a wee artistic reconstruction of the end of our Monday night. I must admit, although both myself and JingleLad were involved, most of the details are second hand. The reason for this is that if you combined the states of 'steamin', 'gassed' and 'completely pure meltit' you may just about comprehend the condition of us two on Monday. Undoubtably the worst yet in Australia, and not a condition we'll match again willingly. Apparently we decided to have a boxing match in the small hours, always the thinking man's choice. We have no recollection of that whatsoever.
I managed to culminate my pleasant evening by sleeping on top (not inside which would have been the sensible option) of a bus stop. Believe me, I was a bit confused when I woke up and the ground was 7 feet away from me. To add to my confusion, JingleLad was nowhere to be seen, and it was bright daylight. About 7am if memory serves. The working populace of the town (I have no idea where I was) were up and making the commute to Brisbane city. I take solace from the fact I would have at least made for an interesting topic of conversation throughout the early morning rush hour. In my own unique way, I'm actually just doing my bit for the community.
JingleLad (Sherlock Holmes, Wikipedia, an IPad 7 and a bag of those tablets from 'Limitless' would not be able to work out how he got home) was found face down on the road outside the hostel by one of the friendly Welsh hobbit-people This was about 4am we're told, so he was making good time on me. I was probably falling off a tree at this point, trying to reach the bus stop roof. He was
One of JingleLad's main features is his comic outlook on life. There were two brilliant examples of this that i'd like to share with you. The first one was at that party on Monday, when he observed:
"Look at this man, they're all trying their hardest to get drunk and we're trying our hardest not to. We know how this is going to end up though..."
In the room after finding an odd sock:
"Andy can you smell this to see if it's clean, I cani mind if I've.... (Use your imagination lads, apologies girls)
So that was Monday evening, a charming account of our time in Australia. In other news, I've discovered a few interesting things about Aussie's from my time working in a bar over here. Cast your memories back if you will, to the lads/girls holidays the majority of us 80's urchins have been on. Destinations included Magaluf, Malia, Zante, Ibiza etc. Remember in the shop, buying your ammo for the evening ahead, you spot that concoction called Ouzo? Aye, pure mingin stuff, and usually used that night as some sort of forfeit. Australians drink that stuff, for pleasure. I was in the bar and someone ordered an Ouzo and lemonade, I politely inquired if he lost a bet, and he looked at me like I was the nutter. Either that or like the vast majority of people who drink at my work, he didn't understand a single thing I said. Some of the customers are genuinely scared of me when I start joking loudly with them and speaking slang, a fact that only spurs me on. There's one old boy in particular who if I'm the only one available to serve, he'll patiently wait on one of the Australians to free up, so determined is he to avoid the strange foreign oddball. One day though folks, one day I'll get him. Then it's fake Gaelic speaking time again. In a Jimmy hat, with face paint on.
Had a bit of a dispute with the tax authorities in Oz as well. They were over-taxing me massively, and today some strange money just appeared in my account. I tried to give them a wee buzz just to ensure this was them fixing their balls-up, and not some Christmas money from anyone. I was promptly told on the phone I was in the que, and my wait time was 90 minutes. Well that's just smashing isn't it chaps, what was I meant to do if Bargain Hunt was on in 10? Nicely of the tax office though, after me holding on for a bit they hung up on me. Considerate fellows, however they'll be getting no Christmas card from me.
Speaking of money appearing in your account, that reminds me of a story I heard about another traveller. He was in Thailand and utterly skint, so he bites the bullet and calls his dad for a dig out. His dad erupts with laughter upon hearing the request, and yells the following down the phone:
"AHAHAHAHA you were the tit that wanted to go traveling, told yi it was a stupit idea! Nae joy pal!"
He then played and sang along heartily to the song 'King of the Road' before hanging up. Classic.
And that's the latest update people. Christmas is approaching, although very different here in the sun. Looks like for JingleLad BorrusiaSaan and I it'll be a festive experience in a hostel, which could either be a really good laugh or as depressing as a bad result on an STI test.
Nah it'll be sweet, we'll just buy cold turkey meat and instant gravy, problem solved. Cheerio for now folks, and Merry Christmas to everyone!
Monday, 5 December 2011
Sunshine in December
Bonjour people, another wee update of life in Bris-Vegas. Off work today so just been chilling out by the lagoons, which are the artificial beaches smack bang in the middle of the city. It's not a bad place to spend a day, and naturally in the sunshine there's plenty for the red-blooded male to gaze upon, trees and suchlike.
We were dragged into the pub the other night, and decided to try our hand at the quiz. The main prize was a trip to Fraser Island, although that of course required you to answer the majority of the questions correctly. Realising our chances of achieving this were somewhat remote, we decided to concentrate our efforts on winning the prize for the best-named team. In a pub full of like-minded miscreants, we knew our effort would have to be pretty risqué to win. After a few brief suggestions we settled on an idea, and so 'The Joseph Fritzel Supporters Club' boldly entered the quiz arena.
As our team named was announced to roars of laughter, we thought we had it in the bag. We were debating what shots to purchase with our winning bar tab, when all of a sudden our doom was announced. A few brave gentlemen had adopted a truly charming name, and were worthy winners of the competition. Should you ever be in need of a legendary shout in a pub quiz, feel free to copy this particularly poetic title:
'If Your Old Enough to Crawl, Your Already in the Right Position.'
Boomtown. Fantastic team name. Unfortunately they never won the quiz, although safe to say they swooped the bar tab with aplomb.
That same night in the pub (a planned quiet one I'll admit) developed into a few small incidents worthy of mention. A brief time after the quiz, we were drinking away and the banter was flying. For some unknown reason, the topic of discussion turned to the subject of war, and the nasty nature of it. Never one to miss an opportunity, JingleLad gave our German companion a slight ribbing for WW2, and the misbehavior during such. A bit close to the bone I thought, but you couldn't deny the comic effect of every 30 seconds JingleLad saying "Naughty Naughty!" in a Borat voice. He's a funny man, but unlikely to be the Scottish representative to Brussels anytime in the near future.
In all seriousness though, the German lad who was with us is one of our good friends, and the second person to be absorbed into this blog. We'll refer to him as BorrusiaSaan throughout, and he may well feature heavily as he's planning on getting a flat with us two.
I'm confident if you avoid the spew and odd patch of blood on the floor you'll feel right at home in our gaff. What a charming abode it shall be.
Aye anyway, so we headed out that night. To say we were on a budget is putting it mildly. We had about $2 between us, and with a pint costing at least $6, you needn't be Stephen Hawking to calculate we couldn't afford a drink. So there was only one thing for it, a full night of minesweeping! For those of you unfamiliar with minesweeping, it involves basically acting like a jaekie all evening and stealing any unattended drinks for yourself.
Now don't get me wrong, JingleLad and I were not proud of this, it was not our finest moment. But really, what would you do in our situation? It's not as if we couldn't go out, that would be silly.
So we had to spend a full evening on the minesweeping. And if your going to do it, you might as well do it well. There is an art to this activity. JingleLad and I are somewhat experts at it, and I hate to admit I say that with a small degree of pride. I would say times were bad, but that's actually not too outrageous in comparison to some other stories I've heard from fellow backpackers.
If I can drift slightly off-track for a wee bit, allow me to tell you a tale I thought was particularly amusing. BorrusiaSaan, JingleLad and I were walking about the famous Coles (supermarket) one day when we bumped into one of our crazy Welsh compatriots from the hostel. The lad was waking about the shop munching away on a chicken leg, nothing too mental there. We said our hellos, and he chummed about the shop with us for a bit. During this 15 minute wander, he helped himself to a kebab, a chicken sandwich, an apple, and another chicken leg. Absorbed in our debate over whether or not we could push the boat out and get non-value beans, JingleLad and I never really noticed this and it was left to the ever astute BorrusiaSaan to question the Welshman's intention of paying:
"Fuck no lads! I'm a bit skint right now, so I just comes in here and has a little bit of a wander and some food yeah. It works out better than paying for it eh!"
So with that in mind, I feel a good bit better about the whole minesweeping thing. It's still not ideal, but I'm sure when we have some flexible income we'll pay back those drinks with interest.
Just a few other brief stories to update you with. I managed to get battered off a keg of beer, which I hail as an achievement even for myself. I was downstairs in the work one day changing a keg, happy days so far. Then the horrible bugger threw a bit of a tantrum and squirted a good three pints worth right in my face before I eventually got the handle down and shut it up. I was shocked, drenched, and upset, and promptly threw a solid right foot at my nemesis to teach it a lesson. This was a minor error of judgement, and it is safe to say the keg came out of that situation a great deal better off than I did. I was left standing meekly in front of a fan trying to dry off nursing a throbbing foot, not really feeling like the smartest man alive.
And in the last update of this chapter, I attended a Movember party just a few days ago. This was a smashing affair, the usual drink and music combination again working out well. It did however mean I had to keep the tash for a few days longer than required and get a few funny looks, but those were nothing in comparison to what I got upon heading home from the party.
After a few beverages, we all get some odd ideas in our head. The one that entered my mind that Friday evening was especially stupid. I decided it would be humorous to quickly shave my tash into what could only be described as a Charlie Chaplin tribute (or a Hitler mo if you will). Funny at the time all agreed, many pictures were taken and a few suggestions I might not be quite the full shilling. It did not however make for a pleasant 2 hour journey home on public transport, with more than a few criticising looks aimed my way. I elected to employ a solid measure of self defense, put the Prodigy on the iPod full blast and bark/slobber at anybody who looked at me too long. Before long those old women kept their eyes to theirselves, and I was off in search of Mr Gillette. All in all a good night though.
That's about it at the moment, the 3 of us on the flat hunt pretty heavy just now. Also, it looks as if I will definitely be visiting New Caledonia, and two other nations out on this trip, but that's an update for another time.
Pretty different to the normal Christmas spirit out here as well with the constant sun, feels more like we should be gearing up for music festivals. But remember folks, it's not really Christmas till they're wearing Santa hats on RedTube!
We were dragged into the pub the other night, and decided to try our hand at the quiz. The main prize was a trip to Fraser Island, although that of course required you to answer the majority of the questions correctly. Realising our chances of achieving this were somewhat remote, we decided to concentrate our efforts on winning the prize for the best-named team. In a pub full of like-minded miscreants, we knew our effort would have to be pretty risqué to win. After a few brief suggestions we settled on an idea, and so 'The Joseph Fritzel Supporters Club' boldly entered the quiz arena.
As our team named was announced to roars of laughter, we thought we had it in the bag. We were debating what shots to purchase with our winning bar tab, when all of a sudden our doom was announced. A few brave gentlemen had adopted a truly charming name, and were worthy winners of the competition. Should you ever be in need of a legendary shout in a pub quiz, feel free to copy this particularly poetic title:
'If Your Old Enough to Crawl, Your Already in the Right Position.'
Boomtown. Fantastic team name. Unfortunately they never won the quiz, although safe to say they swooped the bar tab with aplomb.
That same night in the pub (a planned quiet one I'll admit) developed into a few small incidents worthy of mention. A brief time after the quiz, we were drinking away and the banter was flying. For some unknown reason, the topic of discussion turned to the subject of war, and the nasty nature of it. Never one to miss an opportunity, JingleLad gave our German companion a slight ribbing for WW2, and the misbehavior during such. A bit close to the bone I thought, but you couldn't deny the comic effect of every 30 seconds JingleLad saying "Naughty Naughty!" in a Borat voice. He's a funny man, but unlikely to be the Scottish representative to Brussels anytime in the near future.
In all seriousness though, the German lad who was with us is one of our good friends, and the second person to be absorbed into this blog. We'll refer to him as BorrusiaSaan throughout, and he may well feature heavily as he's planning on getting a flat with us two.
I'm confident if you avoid the spew and odd patch of blood on the floor you'll feel right at home in our gaff. What a charming abode it shall be.
Aye anyway, so we headed out that night. To say we were on a budget is putting it mildly. We had about $2 between us, and with a pint costing at least $6, you needn't be Stephen Hawking to calculate we couldn't afford a drink. So there was only one thing for it, a full night of minesweeping! For those of you unfamiliar with minesweeping, it involves basically acting like a jaekie all evening and stealing any unattended drinks for yourself.
Now don't get me wrong, JingleLad and I were not proud of this, it was not our finest moment. But really, what would you do in our situation? It's not as if we couldn't go out, that would be silly.
So we had to spend a full evening on the minesweeping. And if your going to do it, you might as well do it well. There is an art to this activity. JingleLad and I are somewhat experts at it, and I hate to admit I say that with a small degree of pride. I would say times were bad, but that's actually not too outrageous in comparison to some other stories I've heard from fellow backpackers.
If I can drift slightly off-track for a wee bit, allow me to tell you a tale I thought was particularly amusing. BorrusiaSaan, JingleLad and I were walking about the famous Coles (supermarket) one day when we bumped into one of our crazy Welsh compatriots from the hostel. The lad was waking about the shop munching away on a chicken leg, nothing too mental there. We said our hellos, and he chummed about the shop with us for a bit. During this 15 minute wander, he helped himself to a kebab, a chicken sandwich, an apple, and another chicken leg. Absorbed in our debate over whether or not we could push the boat out and get non-value beans, JingleLad and I never really noticed this and it was left to the ever astute BorrusiaSaan to question the Welshman's intention of paying:
"Fuck no lads! I'm a bit skint right now, so I just comes in here and has a little bit of a wander and some food yeah. It works out better than paying for it eh!"
So with that in mind, I feel a good bit better about the whole minesweeping thing. It's still not ideal, but I'm sure when we have some flexible income we'll pay back those drinks with interest.
Just a few other brief stories to update you with. I managed to get battered off a keg of beer, which I hail as an achievement even for myself. I was downstairs in the work one day changing a keg, happy days so far. Then the horrible bugger threw a bit of a tantrum and squirted a good three pints worth right in my face before I eventually got the handle down and shut it up. I was shocked, drenched, and upset, and promptly threw a solid right foot at my nemesis to teach it a lesson. This was a minor error of judgement, and it is safe to say the keg came out of that situation a great deal better off than I did. I was left standing meekly in front of a fan trying to dry off nursing a throbbing foot, not really feeling like the smartest man alive.
And in the last update of this chapter, I attended a Movember party just a few days ago. This was a smashing affair, the usual drink and music combination again working out well. It did however mean I had to keep the tash for a few days longer than required and get a few funny looks, but those were nothing in comparison to what I got upon heading home from the party.
After a few beverages, we all get some odd ideas in our head. The one that entered my mind that Friday evening was especially stupid. I decided it would be humorous to quickly shave my tash into what could only be described as a Charlie Chaplin tribute (or a Hitler mo if you will). Funny at the time all agreed, many pictures were taken and a few suggestions I might not be quite the full shilling. It did not however make for a pleasant 2 hour journey home on public transport, with more than a few criticising looks aimed my way. I elected to employ a solid measure of self defense, put the Prodigy on the iPod full blast and bark/slobber at anybody who looked at me too long. Before long those old women kept their eyes to theirselves, and I was off in search of Mr Gillette. All in all a good night though.
That's about it at the moment, the 3 of us on the flat hunt pretty heavy just now. Also, it looks as if I will definitely be visiting New Caledonia, and two other nations out on this trip, but that's an update for another time.
Pretty different to the normal Christmas spirit out here as well with the constant sun, feels more like we should be gearing up for music festivals. But remember folks, it's not really Christmas till they're wearing Santa hats on RedTube!
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