February 23 - Most auspicious day

32 years and 9 months long time ago, mum dad no use glad wrap. They not know one day, small cling film oversight end with man going jail.

Night start good enough. But bar have no dim sum and spell name wrong. I not care.

Grandmaster Claire. Many buddha beads. She talk with Sifu Sinead. Not many buddha beads. They ask me "why i smile? great travesty committed. I bring shame Shaolin". I lose face. I ask bar "Why no respect me?" I threaten bar with Furious Squirrel Style kung fu. They scare. Send over little present make sorry. I like. Nice. But i ask "you give me big sorry present". They send big present. I like. Velly Nice.

But I say you send more! WAAAAAHHHHH. They send. I no like last one. She look shifty Kinezzo... maybe know somewhere?Ah she assassin - Curry Fox!! She use Swimming Snake with Burning Stick style. I kung fu punch! I miss. I hit wrong one.
I now in jail. Much man love here. I no like. No Nice.

Ireland 3 vs Lee 1

The Pregame:
The last time I faced Ireland in 2002, i was comprehensive beaten by some well placed rohypnol in Galway, a seafood chowder somewhere along the River Shannon and whatever germs were on the Blarney Stone at the time. It was payback time!

Friday 16th February 18:00 - Ireland (0) Vs Lee (0)
Game starts. On the train to the Heathrow, London's leading source of air-related pain and misery Cat decides to have some fun with the usual bored, stare-at-their feet London tube commuters and cuts one away. Let me and the bald guy sitting across from us tell you, for 50kg Cat is punching way above her weight with that one. And then she tried to blame it on the lady next to her. For shame Cat. For shame.

Saturday 17th February 03:21 - Ireland (1) Vs Lee (0)
After a energetic start checking into a hotel room and polishing a bottle of wine quick smart, Temple Bar posts first points for Ireland. Me and Cat are thrown out of a nightclub for being too rowdy. Seriously, we were in Ireland, is there even such a phrase as 'too rowdy' in Irish? It was a good first half though. I swear I see two heads in one bed in our dorm. But i don't trust my eyes.

Saturday 17th February 05:21 - Ireland (1) Vs Lee (0)
I wake up to what i think is dodgy sounds. Slurping, kissing, sucky noises etc. I don't trust my ears.

Saturday 17th February 09:11 - Ireland (1) Vs Lee (1)
Open bloodshot eyes. We've missed breakfast. Cat's having a shower and a short, round-ish middle aged German mum walks into the room. And prcoeeds to get changed whilst chatting to me. Lucky i missed breakfast. Score.

Sunday 18th February 01:45 - Ireland (1) Vs Lee (2)

A very interesting day in Dublin, the Book of Kells, Khilmainay Gaol and a freezing open top bus tour. Then a random house party which ended up with us in some private members only club somewhere. Score. We get back to our hostel. Nympho German mum is sound asleep alone.

Sunday 18th February 08:22 - Ireland (2) Vs Lee (2)
After breakie and during packing i find that the nymphomaniac German mother has left a condom wrapper from her late night antics on my jacket. I am suitably grossed out and frantically search to ensure that the contents are not lost somewhere in my clothes. Ireland has hit the equalizer.

Sunday 18th February 15:27 - Ireland (3) Vs Lee (2)
A nice day walking from the seaside village of Dalkey to Bray. Looks like i've beaten her. But bang! Ireland scores out of nowhere to snatch victory again. With the clock winding down and me and Cat sober and contained, we were hit with a shock ejection from another Irish pub. Damned! Ireland hits the winner with only minutes remaining. This time we were thrown out not cause we were 'too rowdy'. On the contrary we were just having an post-lunch afternoon kip. On their sofas. In their establishment. Without buying a drink. How rude of them :) Oh well, theres always the Donegal trip to make amends....

Christmas 2006 - Bumerangs and Bratwein


My first Christmas away. Thoughts drift back to a time of exorbitant seafood prices at the Sydney Fish Markets, raging bushfires, and ridculously expensive presents from my family. This year I received 24 tubes of hair gel. No more TVs, digital cameras, Xboxes and the like which demanded something similarly expensive in return. Most Bodacious Dude. So Christmas in Europe... how to spend this newly freed christmas funds? Of course with some Chrismtas Market action!

Now Cologne was my Christmas Market of choice. I was met by Anya a girl I met in a dodgy Istanbul hostel and the first thing I did was to look for my favourite German food. The Bratwurst Bratwurst Bratwurst (echo to fade). The whole blending of eyelids, nostrils, kidney stones and other bits of roadkill, and turning it into something that tasty is worthy of a Michelin Star. It represents a culinary delight for me (and strangely a good night in for Deven). The picture depicts Anya eating the good bits of roadkill, which was spun onto a skewer. Notice the lack of claws and assorted cartilage as would be found in the Bratwurst Bratwurst Bratwurst (echo to fade). Of course no Christmas Market visit is complete without some Gluhwein and how better to drink it then with a nice Bratwurst Bratwurst Bratwurst (echo to fade). Now if only somewone would sponsor my idea about blending Bratwurst into Gluhwein - Bratwein. All the best things about Bratwurst, in liquid form. And to top it off, alcoholic as well. Imagine getting drunk on Bratwein and not feeling the need for a dirty lamb kebab afterwards! Off course there'd be be the boutique meat drinks also - Kranskwein, Speckwein, Schnitzwein.... The mind boggles at the possibilities.

Heres something not everyone would know - there is a sizeable Gypsy and Aborginal population in Cologne. So much that there is a need for Bumerang stalls. Not for marsupial use, the Bumerang is needed due to the highly developed skills of the omnipresent Gypsies to steal almost anything (plus cursing those in earshot). A weapon which would strike from a long distance and return ready for another strike is proving invaluable amongst the inhabitants . Hence the booming market for Bumerangs and the aboriginal artisans which create such cost effective implements. A perfect present for any discerning rascist/fascist and buying Australian overseas to boot!!! I can't remember the prices, i am still suffering slight amnesia from a mysterious knock to the head whilst out walking along the river. Curse thee maggot...

The other very Christmas thing to do is off course some outdoor ice skating. I did some with Anya in Cologne, and when my sister Judy came over, I was a regular Dean (or Torvill whicever was better). Thats Judy in the coat which deserves a nice bonfire. What better way to spend a few hours than cutting people of and watching them fall. Joy to the world!

And what would Christmas be without a nice present to the people of the world.... enjoy... Deven put away that Bratwurst ....

Istanbul. You are shiny like sunny!

Istanbul was strange. I was forever being regarded as somewhat of a freak by the Turkish people. Some may remember me regaling the story of being stared at for half an hour or so by 20 odd Laotians in Loas. Well in Istanbul there weren't any long unbroken stares, but a lot of double takes, short unbroken stares and at one point a photo session with headdressed turkish schoolgirls. Seems like spiky, messy hair is a rarity in Istanbul. Like the use of deodorant. Funny that, because they have public baths to keep clean. Why not a quick spray with a masking scent... I don't really know.

Oh and the turkish bath, the Hamam, let me tell you being slapped, stretched and lathered up by a semi naked moustachioed man is a lot more funn that it sounds. Just don't say your from Sydney or Australia. They slap you with greater force if you do. Unless you are into that. This is Anna, Kathrin, me and Richard after a Hamam and into the waterpipe! Once again, excuse the hair.

Oh i found out the hard way that the Blue Mosque and the Haghia Sofia are different buuldings. Because of ignorance (i have this in spades), I wandered the streets at 4:30am in all the wrong places. Cause my directions were based on the Blue Mosque and not the Haghia Sofia.

This rabbit Nicole is holding told me my fortune. Basically said i don't look after my health because I abuse various substances. I've now appointed that rabbit my financial, personal and spiritual advisor. I am currently being investigated by the RSPCA for having relations with rodents. The rabbit is telling me to plead not guilty.

This is the Cistern... Built to supply water to the Sultans palace, but instead it is now home to the worlds fattest goldfish. Fascinating history... if i could remember it. Truth is, i spent most of my time in Istanbul out every night with the various people staying at the hostel. And most of the days aimlessly wandering the streets patting stray cats and scratching my bed bug bites. I was on such a mission to find a good kebab meal. Alas twas not to be found. That turkish place up near Shoreditch is still the best.

Met alot of great people in Istanbul. You know who you are! And had plenty of wacky Turkish culture. Waterpipes/sheeshas, Garbage Island, Fish sandwiches, Ashtray flavoured Homous, free chocolate, Jack Johnson, Ramadan, Hamams. Tres cool. Bit of a different trip for me. Hardly any sight seeing and alot of just cruising. I could get used to it. And thats all for now...

Croatia - A country with big asses and even bigger pizzas.

Seriously i got no photos of asses, but have a look at the pizza. After getting through two-thirds of it, i could barely amble the 100 odd metres to the hostel. Each step i took, i had to reswallow a mouthful of pizza. Not so delicious the second time round. Reminded me of an all you can eat competition us stupid uni boys had once. I really need to learn from my mistakes. And please forgive the hair. Tigi is shit. Don't use them. For great control of my hair at a reasonable price, I choose PPS Super Goop. It's like viagra for your hair.

And now to asses. Missed a great photo opportunity of a peasant woman dragging a donkey down a hill, through a nice rustic village. The other ass encounter was an entirely different story. At a water mill, we accidentally walked through someones house thinking it was a water mill. As i exited the front door, I was greeted by the sight of a peasant woman, squatting over a stream, skirt around the ankles, underwear no where to be seen (lord why did thee forsaken me?). Anyways.. i was also greeted by an aroma reminiscent of decomposing onions. Felt like someone had smacked me in the face with a bag full of rectums and colons.

But apart from pizzas, donkeys, and onions, Croatia has lots of beaches. Lots of pebbly beaches. Its great cause when you get them in your undies or crack, you just reach in and pull it out. None of this trying to wash it out in the surf business (sometimes you may have to wash the pebble though). There is no surf but the water is truelly amazing. Clearer than my conscience and colder than my demeanor.

And for all those looking for tips, On Mljet Island is a blue grotto/cave thing you can swim through like we did. Or you can pull a leaky boat down and paddle through it. Like we did. Go to Hvar for sunworshipping and drinking with taxi-boat drivers and knife wielding slovenians (don't ask). Dubrovnik for meeting that rare breed of travellers - the Australian, and Plitvice National Park for postcard perfect scenery.

Oh, Plitvice Lakes. Could you get any prettier. So many waterfalls, so many waterfalls yet so few buses. I had to run back a few kms to the car cause we missed the last bus back to the entrance. And i had just eaten a few giant sausages. Again there was much re-digesting of food going on. Blardy.... And to top it off I took a drink from one of the waterfall to try and take a little of Plitvice with me. Instead the microbes took alot of my sausages later that night. Stupid duck faeces.

A great country, friendly people (real friendly, one girl showed us how to make Bambooz, a local drink made of cheap red wine and coke. Tastes like sangria). And to Kate and Beck, next time we'll find the right 'cafe' before they close. And too all those people i met along the way - i'll pay you back next time I see you. I swear ;-)

Wales.... well Madonna anyways

Four of us went to Cardiff, Wales on the weekend. One of us didn't do any driving. Score!

The day started with a simple problem. How many people does it take to fill up a Vauxhall Corsa? if you answered 4 you're right. Me, Dazel, Shane and Claire searched everywhere for the fuel cap release - for a good five to ten minutes! It was by sheer blind luck that we found the key also opened the fuel cap. A combined IQ of 110 (including the gas guy recruited to search) didn't help.

So we go on to Wales, but we didn't actually see anything. Not that i know, i fell asleep as soon as we crossed the border. Opened my eyes and Voila! magically in Cardiff. Picked up our tickets and proceeded to queue. and queue. and queue. For all you men out there, don't come to Cardiff on the prowl. Unless you're after large bovines.

When the gates finally opened, i witnessed my first wilderbeest migration. What a sight! Shane sprinted like a cheetah, and Dazel ran with penguin-like grace into the stampeding herd. I really didn't know what was going on, but since everyone was running I figured, what the hell i'll run too. It wasn't until i was getting crushed up against Dazel that i remembered talk of a "Golden Circle", no not about drawing donuts in the snow, but that the first 3000 would be allowed up to the barriers. We lost Claire at some point, i think she was underneath someones armpit. But we all managed to get in, and got the best seats in the stadium. On the barrier, a few foot away from the catwalk and stage.

I ain't a huge fan of Madonna, but caught the Madge fever of Shane and went berko when she finally came on (probably cause we had to endure a really crap supporting act in the form of Paul Oakenfold. He's shit. And he likes ladyboys). At one point something wet landed on the back of my head, most likely drool from the rabid lesbian pack behind me, but i'll pretend it was a wayward sweat droplet from Madonna. I'll auction it on Ebay.

The concert was so good, i happily endured the B.O guy with bad breath on one side, the lesbian posse foaming at the mouths behind me, and the farting lady on the other side. In the end I didn't see Wales, but I did see whales.

We arrived home at 4am. And I did not an ounce of driving. Gotta have plebs people. Gotta have plebs..

Two men and a inuit walked into a Bath...

9:30am Monday started off very British. Grey and wet. Me and Daz had like a brilliant omelette, know what i mean? Nadine had a coffee and Malboro. So it was that me, my world cup hero and Yul Brynner loaded up our Vauxhall Corsa (with fine Tesco wine for later) and headed off. Driving at 70mph in the rain (thats about 120Kph), I was told a lamed huskie could pull a sled faster than i was driving. What would an eskimo know about cars? apparently more than a gook knows about kayaks.

With Nadine taking over caning it (shut eyes tight so don't know how fast), we were at Stonehenge a short time later, and boy what a sight! it's over 5000 years old, and is so mysterious no-one knows how or who built it. It was even more mysterious for us three as we refused to shell out £5.90 to get in and instead peered at it through cyclone fencing 20 yards away. No i have no idea why Dazel is standing like that and smiling.

Next stop was Wood Henge, Stonehenge's much spurned cousin. Low hopes were held for this henge. And for good reason, the big bad wolf had huffed and puffed and blown it all away, so we were content to play on the cement replacements. Not exactly 5000 years old, not exactly worth vsisitng, but then again not exactly £5.90 either.

Off we trot to Bath... What a perla of a city. Nestled in a little valley, lovely stone buildings and a lovely jugenherbege (thats Deutsch for youth hostel). Alas we didn't stay there, we stayed at the YMCA. Which was very apt cause we found this photo opportunity a little while later. Dazel wanted to take it much further "for art's sake" but i was a little dubious of his real intentions. Especially when he whipped out the Vaseline jar. He says it was for a soft focus effect when rubbed on the lens.. yeah right.

Well apart from sightseeing and photos , the only other thing we did in Bath was shop, eat, save 25% on dinner and avoid a parking ticket. Mmm... what else there was this bridge. And a church and some fountains. So thats's the Henges and Bath.

Just an aside - Fabio Grosso, you diving mamas boy, you suck. Rue the day when you meet Daz in a dark alley way, and he has no Vaseline "for art's sake".

Ich Bin Londoner....

I can't believe it has been four months... and I have not a single photo of something London-y. Some would call it slack. Others would call it slack. Now its a bit funny when you live in London, cause you forget that there is so much to see and do. Mostly because you are looking down, avoiding tripping over homeless people and landing in merde (Which could belong to them for all i know..).

So when it was time to return the favour and play tour guide to Nadine, i took to it with one thing in mind - Avoid being knifed for my camera.

Portobello rd market was first up. Portobello unlike the rest of London is very WHITE. There are no Ninjas and the only black people here are the ones pushing a bike they just "found". The boltcutter in their backpack was a "present". If i buy both, i'd get a discount. The rest of the people here are European and American tourists. "That's like so awesome" and "czeyswki plakisjzyko muzkistyzwka?" and "That'll be 30 pounds please" is the most commonly heard phrases.

Tower bridge. Here you see Nadine trying what most Londoners have already tried. Stealing this giant ball (why? cause it isn't nailed down).

There was a bollywood movie being shot near by "007 - Chicken Madras with Basmati Rice". Unfortunately they had no need for an Oriental or Inuit. Mega stardom will have to wait.

oh and that's me pondering what are the Colonel's eleven secret herbs and spices? (why? cause i haven't nailed them down!).


Tower of London. Once a Fortress, palace, dungeon and now just a toilet for tourists like us. And the best thing? it's free! and what a view (but not for the poor suckers below us).

Chinatown... not much to say. No live fish in dirty green ranks, but yes there is that familiar deliciously ripe "Chinatown" odour as with any other chinatowns. And yes it is probably from the durians on sale.

Well thats all i did of London so far.