One Night Stand

Yo-seph!

Still hating India some days and absolutely swearing I’ll never leave other days….

Here are the latest (mis)adventures.

After the excesses of food, near misses with bulls and Right Said fFedness of Hampi something of a detox was to be had at the Honey Valley retreat. Completely in the middle of nowhere, we rocked up and spied a tourist info place, as we entered they all dived behind the counter as it appeared, heavens above, there were some tourists in their shop. Peeping out from behind the counter, they gingerly (honeyly) asked if we’d like to buy some honey, um no, we are after directions. Fortunately they had a computer and googled the town we were in showing us pictures on the screen, um yes, we know we’re here already….Onto a local bus and we were on the look out for a Guiness representative as it appeared to be ‘how many people can you fit into a small metal tin’ every 3 seconds a ‘lively’ armpit was pushed into your nostril cavity’s and I sub-conciously found myself giving them marks out of ten for bobby orange aroma’s. Then we had to wait and drool, whilst watching the bus driver eat his lunch for a whole 45 minutes. In preparation for some hiking we ate copious amounts of vegetables in an all you can munch capacity this then follows with an all you can fart till your bottom wears out it’s voice box. The hiking was splendid save for the part where I walked into a barb wire fence at full pelt, saved only by my legs resembling that of a chicken. On our return we were informed that leopards and snakes run free like young hearts. Which was obviously pleasing.

Been giving yoga a big swerve so far until the plebs next door to me started at 6am, curious I peaked out, and the bloke just had his eyes closed and was blowing his schnozz in an alarming manner for about an hour and chanting. I think Lemsip could be in trouble. First of our two encounters came in the form of ‘Laughing Yoga’. Absolute class. Up at 7am to hear some bloke chanting ‘1,2,3, Laughter is for Free’ and ‘East or West, Laughter is the Best’ then he proceeded to imitate Kangaroos, mobile phones, computers with a laugh designated for pretty much every country going. The ‘real’ Yoga was probably similar to the first in that you would have pissed yourself at my complete inadequacy. First of all the bloke started off by chanting ‘Om’ lots, this stirred my breakfast appetite and I found myself chanting ‘om nom, nom, nom’ at the thought of a sausage sambo. Alas, it was not to be as I got everything the wrong way round, couldn’t sit on a pile of towels, stretch or indeed balance on my hands. I lay the blame squarely on my spandex suit I’d had made especially. I think I have also found the official food for Yoga, Yog-hurt of course, because well, it bloody does.

I’m not gay section – more culture in the form of an Aythuric Massage, little did I realize I’d have to strip naked and be beaten up by two men whilst covered in something that smelt like the seasoning they put on spicy wedges. Quick rub of the arms and then wallop a slap on the back. Quick rub of the legs and then bend all my toes back. Terrific fun. About as relaxing as falling into an Indian squat toilet.

Some full on bus journeys with simply the worst roads ever. Trying a sneaky bogie clear out on the back seat was a small disaster as the jolts repeatedly forced my finger up and out of my eye socket.

Cochin – Saw a Kathakali show – (traditional dance) where men dressed as women and was all kind of silent save for various hand gestures which were explained to the crowd. Strangely the only one I can recall was the cupping of an imaginary breat – which signified what else but boobs!

Witnessed the best ever shouting match on bus, getting louder and louder until they couldn’t shout any louder before mumbling went to grumbling to talking to bellowing and other verbs to describe talking.

Did a backwaters tour, which was much better than the front waters. Scorching hot, fancied a dip until we spied a water snake. Blokes in water half submerged brushing their teeth with a finger (their own, not a Cadburys one or indeed someone elses). Ate lunch from a banana leaf with my hands which was solid as I’m left handed and you’re not meant to eat with it because that’s the one you use to wipe your behind. I couldn’t help it though and left a few locals open-mouthed with some ‘ooo nutty’ and ‘is that sweetcorn? it is true then’ comments.

Lost another third of a toenail after neglecting to realize rocks are called rocks because they are rock hard, booting it, and now looking like I’m undecided as to whether to be a goth as I have one toe nail painted black.

Tested my fatness on a machine and was surprised to learn that I was only 5’7. I’m now auditioning for Top Gun 2: Goose – Back From The Dead, replacing Midget Cruise.

Drank cocunut beer (which looked and probably tasted like jizz – Moorsey: I’ll get you some to confirm)

Noted India friendliness as they saw we had a dilemma with our rubbish on a train, they simply bundled it all up and threw it out of the window before looking over with a big smile. An angry recycling lecture followed from an outraged Kiwi.

Did bodysurfing for days, followed by licking of graizes for the following days.

Went out the southernmost point in India, which was Southerly. Where men poo’ed freely on the jetty rocks. Presumably setting recors for the most Southernly poo’s in India. Followed by …….

You had to be there: Great Moment #1. Got chatting to this old dude who informed me he was the Samose master and had been making them for 20 years, instantly I spotted his mouth and what constituted for teeth, if you were someone who’d been eating sugar coated poo’s for the last 20 years, we exchanged tales of families and cricket with me dieing to ask ‘so do you have any TEETH (children), are you TEETHED (married) India are really good at YELLOW MOULD STUMPS OF TEETH (cricket) TEETHY, TEETHY, TEETH! Then he uttered the greatest line  – “Before making Samosas I was trained to be a dentist”. I was flabbergasted and looked at him with an open mouth of significantly better looking teeth. He then pissed himself (at his own joke). Told you you had to be there.

Sports: Watched Cricket at the birthday party for the minister of states son’s 57^th bday. Rather politically his son was awarded ( fat and rubbish) man of the match despite being fat and rubbish. Also saw Hockey as India destroyed Belgian 3-2. Was strange the ice seemed to have melted and they didn’t even have roller-skates on.

Sorry this is crap.

I’m in The Andamans now which is very much like a can of Lilt in that it’s TOTALLY TROPICAL

mUCH lOVE

jIMMY XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Happy New Year!! Haven’t been on the lennnnnnnnghthy mails in a while as the computers or more sluggish than slugs.

All the way back to chrimbo then (god, this is going to be a hore (not really hore, chore, see what I mean) as it seems someone has stuck chewing gum under every key….um, ooo still minty, yum.

Back to Bombay and what a mix (boooo, horrendous joke no.1). Christmas eve was an absolute belter as I fulfilled a lifetime ambition and appeared in a movie. Not blue, unfortunately (pop band or movie I might add). So rocked up at 9am and were whisked off to a secret location and it felt like I was going to Noels House Party, no sign of Mr Blobby as we entered a disused wearhouse and were promptly marched off to wardrobe, arguing that I wouldn’t fit in a wardrobe was futile as I was handed my lavish clothes for the day. It seemed all the sequins had fallen off though as I was handed a rascal pair of flared jeans, a studded t-shirt (which confused me lots that day, as i kept thinking they were my nipples and wondered why I was aroused or indeed cold in the 35 degree heat). And a pair of wooly shoes that looked like they’d either been stolen off a mammoth or fashioned from strange shaped cocunts. What lay in store then? After half an hour of nipple fiddling it was into the warehouse and a giant nightclub scene…..Ooo look a bar, ooo dancers, wow famous bollywood starts!!! What do I do then director? Knee slide? get everyone in a big circle and individually high five them all? No? You want me to dance……………………..

What followed was 5 hours of sober dancing, how the hell do you dance sober? Everything and anything came out of the bag, the hoopla, the birdie song, the pointing finger, the tiger claws, the Nescafe side beans dance and the old reverse hand over the hand. Embarrassing just about sums up how the talent scout was feeling after seeing me in action…I quit in shame after a free lunch. It’s called King of Singh and will haunt me and amuse you forever.

Boxing Day was amazing we met Mike Tyson and Frank Bruno (porky & horrendous joke no.2). Not really (really) we did however take on some Indians at Cricket as is tradition over here. A world all comers XI compromising 2 aussies, 2 indians and 2 brits vs 6 eager Indians, a 6 over money match no less (is that a collective zzzzzzzzz I can hear). We opened the batting and soon discovered this was no friendly affair as balls were hurled at our well, balls. With one bossy git on their team arguing over everything. Our team struck a colossal 42 all out with me hitting a massive 11 before being bowled s.h.l.b.w. (skinny hairy leg before wicket). Then the opposition took to the field with Briggs as the (Im)mobile wicket keeper took 3 catches behind hurling the ball into the air (and about 150 metres down a main road) with them on 32-5  the moment we’d been waiting for a little edge and gone!!!! Victory! No, what’s this this the bossy turnip, captain of the other team and now umpire was demanding a re-bowl because he hadn’t said it was ok to bowl……………What?! The aussie said ‘no worries I’ll just bowl him’ and did just that. I couldn’t contain myself, ripping the stumps from the ground and legging it off in celebration with the other 20 something year old travellers. Rubbing the faces and taunting the opposition. They were all about 9 years old.

Onto hippy paradise of Goa then by a bus sponsored by alton towers, red bull and pro-drink driving producing the new sport of scary amnesia. Here I met a Swedish hippy who was barking. She told me how she found herself in 89’. I presumed she had no friends and was playing hide and seek on her own and unbelievably it had taken 89 seconds to find herself, I mean come on, look you’re right there I can see you. She then like the energy of the way I was texting on my phone??? I thought about telling her if was a lilo and I was looking for a new meaning from the ocean but she went off to smell seaweed. Some of the clothes worn here were absolute Madness, quite literally lots of baggy trousers (baggy trousers repeat to fade)(I await a few virtual punches for that one – sorry…). Asides from laying on sand, I managed to lose half a toe nail after booting a rock, got pooed on (red, berries perhaps?) by a bird and had………………………… ‘The curious incident of the flip flops in the internet shop’

Oh my god (rant coming). Wenr in for ten minutes and came out to find my size 9’s AWOL. Great, someones pinched them. Hold on a second, what’s that ah there they are…! Slipping them on it seemed coco the mother sodding clown had come to the beach and left his size 14 waterskis whilst walking off with my clearly smaller flip-flop sakes. Right now I’m wearing them and also using them to taxi small Indian families around….Unbelievable.

Finding Nemo:

Went fishing and couldn’t basically until our skipper who hadn’t said a word for the whole trip pipes up ‘I’ve got a big one’ half cringeing we turned to face him to see if was indeed waving his willy about only to discover he’d landed a big fish, which he was more then happy to tell us that was his tea. Tried to stone, paper, scissor him for it….

N.Y.E – booze fest surrounded by Indian perv’s all behaving like they were on Yorkshire uncovered , barfing on sandcastles, weeing on curious octopuses (octopi(e)) etc. They were all trying to grope the girls, needless to say my long hair failed me here. As I saw one dive in for a sleaze he got the knuckle dig in the ribs and the word ‘oi’ in his lughole. Booze aggression aside it got really messy when I went to the toilet and flushed it, which emptied the contents onto my feet. All that aside Goa was cool in a 30 degrees hot kind of way.

Now in a place called Hampi. Expecting many hampers, I was disappointed to find a landscape of boulders and rivers. Here been mostly pretending to be Steve McQueen (McQueen – good name for a Scottish Freddie mercury tribte???) and hammering it round on a erm, harley, I mean moped. Been jumping in lakes lots till yesterday, when we noticed the sign saying crocodiles in lakes, since then been a bit tired to swim and not feeling the need to cool off. When the sun goes down it’s a bit nuts as cocnuts are everywhere. Wait lost my train of my thought, trains , no ……ignore all that. Oh yes, a tip build up hunger till dusk and then ride around on a bike in India, simply drive and open mouth, flies, bugs, dune bugs, mossies and small Indian children simply disappear down your throat.

Feel I’m getting old. Met some teenagers who thought everything was ‘well, good’ and ‘well, wicked’. I toyed with the idea of asking them how well they felt ‘well, well?’ or if they’d seen the really ace ‘well’ down the road’ which was a well, well, well’? (if this sounds mental I haven’t been taking my anti-malarial automatic tablets…….wibble)

Got a Right Said Fred look-a-like in our hostel. Hours of childish amusement as we tell him ‘there’s no way I’m disco daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaancing’ (perhaps what I should’ve told the bollywood director)

Ok I know this is long as my fingers are now coated in hubba hubba. Couple more yarns before you delete me forever from your contacts.

Rant No.2. Cash Machine Twat.

Out of money we went to a local town to renumerate. First bank closed as it was being re-filled, ok. Off to another then waiting patiently we noticed a farcical situation developing as a well dressed Indian was performing the hokey-cokey with his bank card, in-out, in-out, shake it all about, you do the hokey you put your library card in, you put chocolate buttons in, you put your big toe in (you get the idea) then take them outuntil you break the sodding machine. Arse. Off to the next one then and unbelievably lord flowery shirt is there again with his crappy bank card licking it, bending it, inserting first sloooooooooooow, then really quick until 8 seconds later and he’d broke that as well. We managed to beat him back to the first bank and formed a human ring around the machine until the cash was secure and the Benny Hill music over.

The Great Escape

Yesterday we were out scooting about in the villages meandering on past a herd of bulls/ buffalo when I turned back to see what was going on, what was going on, was that a bull was running at me, about 2m away in fact, I let a loud pitched yelp containing the word FACK (lose an ‘A’, add on ‘U’) and throttled it straight into a hedge (on purpose of course ,bulls hate hedges, everyone knows that).

Ok so bulls hate me and so do you all now.

Hope all your New Year wishes have come true…..

Bull charges for the lads, Bollywood nipple studded t-shirts for the girls.

Briggsy xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx