Careless Whisper

rag

As you can imagine, I’ve met some good people on my travels…Robin Gibb is now Robin Gidd albeit he’s a bit of a God Squad type whose enthusiasm for the lord almighty is equaled by his equal opportunities opinion on downing shots and buckets all the while having a better beard than me and a spherical pal called Wilson. 

Another Robin I have met is a Swedish guy who works at my day job that reminds me of Chet, a guy I lived with for 4 years that would go to a club in Speedos and work out in public, Muscle Street doesn’t have the same ring to it as Muscle Beach when you think about it but that’s how I met him and the reason he’s my friend…he can play Careless Whisper on the Saxophone and takes no shame in putting his weight bench out on the street on a sunny day or getting his Dad to reinforce his bed with steel. 

Robin talked me into doing a ‘photo shoot’ with a girl he had been conveniently riding on the side who looked a lot like the girl from the Nickelback Video for How You Remind Me.  My wife was understandably appalled at the thought of this girl, who was in her eyes sexy as France writhing about the surf gien it big licks with her chebs oot.  In reality, she turned up at 9am for her shoot on the beach with a (pure blaggin it) ‘professional photographer’ looking like she had just got out of Auschwitz but with a worse hangover, bruises and everything.  The sun wasn’t really shining and I tried to tell her that it wasn’t worth it as she was simultaneously applying makie up and vomiting in the bathroom.  I gave it a bash and Robin turned out way better than her, as he has been a model, a dancer and also a contestant on Swedish Big Brother (either 2004 or 2006) and knew how to pose and the likes.

So, I’m on the beach giving it the whole ‘oh, the light’s not right’ chat while he is telling her to ‘unleash her inner tigress’ and get sexy ‘like the movie wild things’.  When she still didn’t look like much he promptly told her that she ‘looked like a cow’ in Swedish, which made me like this guy even more.  Robin, as I mentioned is professional dancer and he is most at home in the bar at night when he incites the crowd to join him in the ‘Cha Cha Stomp’ which for those of you unaware is a song much like the Macarena. 

He somehow gets them all going and even more surreally manages to look good doing it.  I love to watch the faces on the crowd when it gets to the bit where he sings “Charlie Brown’ as if it’s a dance move every one should know like ‘Stomp to the left, 2 times’. I put it down to the particularly peculiar night we were having, not only had the drains been cleared out and the whole place smelled of rank excrement but it was also the offical ‘SUPERMOON’ – the point in which the moon is closest to the Earth in more than 2 decades.  It actually was a really big, bright moon and quite impressive but what was more impressive was the effect it seemed to be having on the tides and the weather.  The tide would come in and out by a good 200 yards every 20 minutes…some say all the natural disasters are due to the supermoon but I’m not sure.

I’m writing this blog after the ‘what’s your favourite fish?’ couple incident.  I tried to interject with a wee bit of comedy only to be met with an icy response.  The male of the couple’s answer to the fish conundrum was ‘the yellow one’, ‘that’s Skype’ she said as I interjected with ‘no. that’s the blue one!’  Once again, wit has not prevailed but I need to consider that I am sitting by myself in a bar surrounded by people in shorts while wearing a denim jacket.  There can be only one.

I’m away to wind up a guy I don’t like the look of that’s playing pool in the bar I’m in, to me these are the best kind of wind ups.  My favourite on this trip so far was almost convincing a guy he should call his band ‘Ghostbusters 2’, everyone already knows it and no-one will expect it, he was almost convinced.  I am a dick.

Fuck You Izzard

“Excuse me” said a very chirpy looking fellow from Denmark as I was working the other day.  “Aye?” said I, “Should I beware of Monkey Thieves?”.  At this moment I was thinking he might have been a student who had overdosed on Eddie Izzard in 1999 and still thought it funny to see humour in putting incongruous words together and putting on a funny voice.   But, alas, no, he was serious!  He informed me that an ape had been coming to his hotel room at the same time for the last two days and he had been warned that people train monkeys to steal cameras and wallets for their devious owners.  I was as polite as I could be and told him that he should always beware of everyone, especially with his valued possessions but I still really wasn’t buying it.  It turned out that he was just an unrealistically happy man and was indeed being stalked by an ape, his wife showed me a video they had taken that day of the simian in question trying his best to pry open his patio door, the funniest part about the whole thing though was hearing him saying in the video “oooh noo you ditnt!” in his best Hoochie Mama/Danish tone as the monkey brushed off his shooing and pelting of the glass.  I guess you had to be there, and I guess I wish I had been, even if only to see if the monkey was taller than me.

There is absolutely no chance Holly and I will fall victim to any such aping around as we have now moved to a new gaff with a, wait for it …’Mountain View’!  I’m quite a fan of a wee embellishment of the truth here and there but when your mountain vista is a pane of glass with a sheer rock face one inch apart you have to concede wan tae you and just laugh about it.  We live above a Bike shop and have to raise the noisy shop shutter every time you enter then run the mosquito gauntlet to the room.  Our landlord seems a funny chap that may have been a victim of a shark attack.  The reason I comment is that I see him sans tap practicing his golf swing with a weighted putter and he has an awesome (in my mind) shark enduced scar on his torso.

Tonight I went to work at the nighttime job after working all day and it turned out I wasn’t needed, as the island is getting quieter.  Common courtesy comes into play when you see a staff member sitting there for an hour and a half and your response when he storms out is ‘were you wanting to work?’.  ‘No, I love hanging out in restaurants on my own’. 

In a moment of slight revenge but really just desperation I went to a bar doing 150 baht buckets for Happy hour when I was overcome by the strongest compulsion for a shite.  This bar, as you have probably guessed by the prices doesn’t have the nicest of cludgies so I found myself using a check pad from the night job to wipe my derriere with. Not the most glamorous I’ve ever looked but in comparison to the toilet I was in I was Shirley Bassey on her throne singing ‘kiss me, honey, honey, kiss me’.  The lack of toilet roll or even a ‘Thai Style Bum Shower’ must be apparent to you by now but it gets even worse.  The bottom of the cubicle door seemed to have teeth where it has been kicked in or rotted away that looked like the warnings on cigarette packets.  Strangely though there was one brief convenience for this inconvenience in the form of a rusty nail for hanging your coat, or breeks on…it was a strange kindness in some way and I am thankful for that in some way.  Maybe Buddha is getting to me?

Anyway, the world still looks like it’s going to shit.  After the Japan thing I didn’t watch the news but when I did take a sneak peak I saw that the world seems to have invaded Libya promoting what looks like WWIII.  I guess that’s what happens when you let Mickey Rourke run a country, he was good in Angel Heart and The Wrestler but he seems to have went more aff his nut this time than when he turned down a career getting his head sooked in soft porn with Kim Bassinger to getting his head pummeled in a boxing ring.  I hope Stallone takes his place.

Enough for now, I need to get back to some ‘proper’ writing and ignore the couple beside me asking each other ‘what’s your favourite fish?’ and set about meeting the most Scottish, not Scottish guy in the world and Robin Gibb with the best beard in the world for a light refreshment and ‘beard off’ under a kerosene coated skipping rope.

More to come soon as my good friend Dan and I are planning a wee trip around South East Asia with a crutch each.

Crag

Cock Tales

My internal misery has been brought to my attention more times than I care to mention by my other half, but if I’m honest I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking.  Imagine a shorter, bearded version of Rodin’s sculpture with a drink in his other hand.  I proffered to myself that it might have been the lack of a good vista from our insanely blue cell of a room or possibly the lack of a good, healthy, smiling visage on my part.  As mentioned prior in my ‘downer’ of a blog…I’ve started working here and now I have started working two jobs.  The point in all this is not only to offset the cost of living but also to offset the boredom.  I realized that I haven’t been in the sea or indeed the sun for over two weeks now and the tan I gained from frolicking on the beach and suffering in the shade has completely faded to a shade of white not far from ‘eggshell’ or whatever that hairy Patrick Bateman dog from Dulux is currently calling white.  At least I’m the only one here without a tan which does set you apart from the hordes of Swedish Gigolo dancers that vie, topless, fruitless and mindless for the attention of any girl with a heartbeat and a risk of a slipped nipple.

At work I have been working a beach bar by myself during the day which I really quite enjoy to be honest, although, not once have I felt like Tom Cruise in Cocktail (maybe I should call this blog ‘Cock Tales’??) when he moves to Bermuda or wherever it was. 

When the bar is a hut on the beach you don’t get the amenities you would expect of such an establishment, e.g. a sink or an ice machine.  A Swedish guy owns the place and all the staff seem to be Swedish so I’m not sure how they are taking to me yet.  On the plus side, I get to play my own music all day with a perfect, postcard view and I always strive to provide table service in the pursuit of the elusive ‘tips’ of which I’m allowed to keep in this job.  In the other bar I work for around 3 hours a night notching up about £6 for the whole shift and all the tips go to the Thai staff as they work the whole day and night for even less.  This is understandable I suppose, but equally depressing as you can imagine.  So, in the place you get to keep your tips I’ve found myself to be quite an outgoing wee character, much to the surprise of myself and no doubt to my friends from home.  Racking up 1000 Baht in tips in one shift shows me that I’m changing my ways a little bit and after all I suppose that’s what travel and experience should do to you. 

There is still some abject misery in my soul however when I think that I’m doing almost exactly what I was doing ten years ago for a fraction of the pay.  I get to meet some nice people though, I always say that manners cost nothing and you should treat people as you wish to be treated yourself and you would think that the ‘travelling community’ would be a bit more self aware when it come to this sort of thing but I soon realized that there seems to be no community at all here, only Japanese holidaymakers insanely taking pictures of themselves draped over items as exotic as a wall near a beach or a sign advertising ‘PIZZA!!!!’ and then the aforementioned ‘call me rude boy, boy’ types that are here to spend and be spent.

Back to the strange suggestion that I’m being a bit more outgoing and talkative…the night-time, nightmare restaurant job I have needs someone to stand on the street with a menu offering up the services and special offers and I’ve found that I’ve actually quite enjoyed it.  The funniest thing for me is imaging if I was standing on a street in Glasgow shouting ‘Hud Yur Dinnnerrrrrr hen??’ would be absurd, down right cheeky and would be responded to with a swift kick to one’s coupon.  For those of you that aren’t Scottish, I’ll enlighten you to two things…firstly, one’s coupon is an affectionate term for one’s visage and secondly asking a lady if she has ‘had her dinner’ means ‘Have you had sex?’ and even more obtuse is asking someone if they ‘want their dinner?’ something you couldn’t get away with at home but I take great pleasure in presenting the ‘special offers’ while I’m here.

We will be ‘flitting’, or moving home tomorrow and I’m planning on spending a little more money to have a nice sea view and a bit of sunshine to wake you up in the morning, maybe it’ll make me feel a little better about the world and I’ll be a shiny, happy person.  Until then, I’ll keep to my introverted ways and ponder my surroundings as best I can.

Will do a new blog soon as this one has been short due to distraction.  I’ve met some nice people and had some new experiences that will surely keep you amused.

Crag

Downer

So yesterday I turned the grand old age of 29, a day not many people really look forward to but at least it’s not as bad as the grand ole’ 30.  If I said I had a nice enough wee day, I’d probably be lying.  In the morning I had some excellent presents from the wife.  I’d asked for Strongbow, a foursome and some Berocca and it turns out Strongbow is the hardest to source of the trio.  I got some some crackers though.  Magners for breakfast, Berocca for lunch, an AC/DC vest, a cowboy shirt and some books, which I’d already read but with my booze addled brain I figure it’s not a big problem to read them again then trade them for some new ones.  That was a good start to the day, even if the Strongbow and the foursome never materialized.

We went out for some birthday cocktails with a spring in our step and they had CNN on all the TV’s with the volume up. This is quite a rarity for where we are as you can imagine, it’s hard enough trying to figure out what day it is when you’ve lost your phone and there are no newspapers in English etc…  It turned out that there had been a massive earthquake in Japan and a Tsunami that followed and totaled everything in its path. 

I already knew the world was going to shit and that was one of the reasons I moved away from home anyway. Since I’ve been away there had been the Earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand…pretty much one of the last places anyone would have expected it and now this in Japan.  I got to thinking of the Tsunami that wiped out where I’m sitting right at the moment in 2004, I think??  You see, there are no news channels on here, nobody watches the news and no one seems to read the papers so there was no early warning at all.  I can imagine 2 wee Jimmy Thai guys sitting on the beach and one asking “Does that look like a big fucking wave to you?” and the other guy going “aye, it does like” and then next thing you know they’re all dead.  It’s nothing that anyone would expect and probably a sight no one had seen the likes of before so to say they were surprised is undoubtedly an understatement.  I saw on the news how fast the wave in Japan was moving and was just lifting trucks, houses and boats along with it and that shit really is scary.

The reason I was so worried was because one of my best friends has just moved to Tokyo and had already been in an accident the week prior and was on crutches, had a broken nose and 2 black eyes that made him look like the Hamburglar.  It wasn’t that I was worried the anniversary of his death would forever mar my birthday but for once in my life I was really, really worried and all communications were down in that neck of the woods so I had the whole day with that on my mind.  To top that off my family called to wish me well and also that my Mother had suffered a stroke.  She’s OK now but has been told to take it easy which is not as easy as it sounds for my Mum…she has and always will be a pure grafter.  I told her it was time to retire, she said she was too young to retire, I said she was too young to be having fucking strokes!  It seems like my family are falling apart and although I never really go home to see them when I’m in Scotland I know how easy it will be if ever I need to.  Now though, getting home is not so easy so she better start taking it easy or I’ll do her in myself.  Mum, I know you read this so take heed, afore’ yer deed.  Enough said. Holly had also taken on a new job and was working 4pm til’ 10pm also and I had some time to kill aswell.  So, all in all not the best start to my 29^th year!

In a moment of lighter relief a couple from New Zealand we had met a couple of days earlier that had a taste for the bevvy not too dissimilar to my own sent me a text wanting to meet up and get me a birthday drink.  I took them up on this and spent the rest of the day drinking beers, buckets and shots with them until Tanzi got a sudden case of ‘heat stroke’, I’m no doctor but I’d call it ‘bucket stroke’ any day of the week!  We went to a few more bars and I got a ton of free drinks and buckets until Hol finished work and we went to see a live band play in a rock bar. 

Around midnight I got a call from Dan, the friend who lives in Tokyo saying he was alright and the worst thing that happened to him was trying to fit his chin under his work desk then having to walk 9km home on crutches.  At this point, in a mixture of relief and inebriation I got quite joyful much to the distaste of my wife who couldn’t handle me changing the words to every song to ‘Cowboys from Hell’.  Lassies, pffft.  We both have the night off on Sunday so I’m sure we’ll make the most of that one.  Cowboys Fae Hell!!!

I decided to call it a night at this point as I was only gonna get more annoying , and she would get subsequently more annoyed as the night progressed so hit the sack and fell straight asleep and missed my scheduled Skype date with my friends at home.  I woke up with a jolt in the morn though and went for a proper Skype wank with a wee tert called Div who lives in Brighton.  Was nice getting some decent patter again but people in the bar were looking at me like I had 3 heads or something with the fully ‘Scottish’ patter we were having about locking guys in bin sheds and waking up surrounded by dead pigeons.  Again, enough said!

In other news, working 2 jobs and having to stay on the same Island for a while is getting me a bit down.  I’m doing all the exact opposite things that people come to this island to do, sunbathe, relax and taste the delights of the worlds women.  I have had a wee bit of time to do some writing and catch up on the photography bit, which helps.  I actually got one of my pictures used as a magazine cover for one of the tourist magazine that goes out to all the islands around here, a pretty good first step which has brought a few wee sneaky ideas to mind for me.  The walking wounded and official Tsunami survivor is supposed to be coming to see me the first week in April, so if he can make it I’m looking forward to some good times and a bit of time off with ma pal.

This has been a bit of a downer of a blog but as I’ve said before I want it to be a bit of a diary for myself as well that will capture this highs as well as the lows.  Bear with me though, I have some funny stories to tell and I’ll be a bit cheerier later.  It’s raining like hell here today and I’m the only guy on the island with a hat and a jacket so I’m gonna enjoy a good bit of rain before work.

Crag

‘You know when you’ve been Thatchered’

I’ve been pretty busy of late looking after my terminally ill wife during the day and working at night.  I’m starting to think she may have caught something from my pee.

I’ve started a job as a waiter at night times, it was originally to keep myself busy while Holly was doing her dive course.  I didn’t really think I would get work so easily so I started immediately and have been working every night for pretty much pennies. 

The way I look at it is, what else would I be doing between 6 and 12 at night apart from spending money and getting drunk in some bar.  I might as well offset that with a little bit of money, a free meal and free drinks.  I don’t know if you’re aware but it is illegal for me to work here so you always have to be on the lookout for the polis.  Although I’m getting paid hee haw, the thais get even less and work harder hours than the Farangs.  It has to be said though, the amount of nationalities that come through the door are hard enough for me to deal with and English is my first language so I don’t think it would work too well with the Thais front of house in this place. 

If they had such lax laws at home I think it would be a much better place.  In the UK you need a licence to fart and even then you have to specify which type, silent but violent, eggy and runnin’ doon’ the leggy or at the very worst throwing your boxers out of the bathroom window!  I think all the controversy started with Tango and Shell Suits. 

A bold Statement I know but please give your protagonist a minute to explain.

When I was young there was outrage and uproar about the wearing of a shell suit (google it if you’re under 20) in the vicinity of a radiator to the point that we had to change how the school assembly was laid out.  We all sat on the floor you see and if you were near the sides then you were of course, near the radiators and if you were unfortunate then you would self combust and it would be an investigative matter for Mulder, Scully and probably Jimmy Saville. 

I was rocking a JJB Sports or a Naff Co number at this point, as were most of my cohort’s pre 1990 and we liked to ‘lean’, just like in Grease when the T-Birds are wearing their leather jackets, look closely, they are always leaning.  I guess it’s just a thing guys in cool outfits do! 

So, the shell suit thing already gave me an idea of how the world was turning.  Thatcher had already taken the free milk away from the classroom but that didn’t bother me and now I come to think of it, that may be the reason I’m barely pushing 5’6”.  Actually fuck you Thatcher, I always thought you were OK cos’ you made me last that extra minute or two but now it’s game over. 

Some years later there was the issue with Tango, not only a spirited dance but an orange flavoured beverage favoured by the youth of Scotland back in the day.  They had an advertising campaign that stated ‘You know when you’ve been Tango’d’ and you certainly did as unsuspecting children were slapped directly on both ear drums by all and sundry followed by a ringing in your ears and a faint ‘Tangoooooooo’d’ from every kid in the playground.  The press went bananas over all this, which in my opinion should have made them bring out a banana flavour and the act replaced with throwing bananas at folk but, as controversial as that is, the racists had already used that one I suppose.  Back on topic, the world is crazy!  As much as I love home I really don’t like the way the government are getting new money for old rope with all the new exercises in licensing laws and the like.  The whole world looks like it’s falling apart and that’s the main reason I wanted to escape.  While I’m here all I see on the news is ‘Iffy Cairo’, earthquakes in New Zealand and the cost of everything going up so the recession will hit even harder.  Too depressing for this blog.  D.U.N – Done.

Last night I made a wee mistake with the Thai lady manager/chef and she took the complete nip with me.  There are certain boundaries that Thai people have,  like touching their heads, showing the soles of your feet or slagging off the royal family.  It’s basically the equivalent of calling someone’s newborn baby a prick…you just don’t do it!  Anyway, the lady in question has a boyfriend, a big Swedish lad I think that looks like he would split her in half.  My boss commented that she was walking funny, maybe because she was tired or even drunk. That one flew until I commented that it may be due to the extraordinary (as in, not ordinary for her 5’ frame) girth that her muscle bound partner no doubt had and then done my best John Wayne impression. 

She didn’t really get the comment until I performed ‘the walk’ and then once it sank in, all hell broke loose.  Menu’s flying everywhere and crying in the toilets and the like.  I’m pretty used to mad lassies as I’m sure you can imagine but this one just wouldn’t accept my apology then when she did she got drunk and let loose her vendetta once again, although this time usually with her Hulk of a boyfriend in tow.  I was already in a mood from the horrendous patter coming from some English guy whose birthday it was so arguing or scrapping wasn’t an issue (especially as I had met an American Marine with the frame of a smart car 5 minutes prior). 

To be fair, he brought some persons to the bar but my instant impression was that I would like to take a bar to his person.  The island is full of these types, you see more species’ of, for want of a better word…’shite’ guys on this island than you see of fish in the reef. 

You get the just turned 18 traveler types who are as high on buckets as they are on daddy’s money, the slightly more refined travelers who are here to dive (they just can’t put ‘Scuba Muff’ on the signs), the ladies men/model types who come here to work on their tan and cunnilingus before returning to London Town looking like the opposite of their paler peers.  Now, imagine all these types, from all corners of the world and all the shades of tan in between and then think about the worst. 

The most refined, the consummate gentleman, the educated and the over 30 but not quite 40 specimen.  He spends his days at the beach competing in team sports, draping his manhood over his shoulders and if that’s not enough there’s always a gym workout to sweat out last nights decadence and tone up their last Christmas dinner.  To me these guys are the worst; how they can spend so long here is beyond me…actually it’s not.  These guys get laid every night, swap numbers, facebooks and emails then converse at board meetings after fat free dinners flaunting photos and swapping sex manuals.  Maybe I just don’t like them because they have no interest in talking to me (a wee hint of boob but just a bit too much boab) as I’m the only married man under 30 on the whole island.  I can’t really hold it against them though, I imagine the winter of their youth has been more fun than my actual youth was and as everyone knows…men get better looking with age and chicks just dig an older guy.

Before I talk myself into divorce and a career in Beach volleyball I’d better change the subject.  Sleeping has been a bit better, still sweaty as always but you can buy Valium over the counter here for 10p so if you’re really struggling, like I was last night, then it’s an easy option.  That stuff gives you crazy dreams though. 

I woke up feeling like Allen Ginsberg but less gay.  Or maybe not actually, I just remembered that I was dreaming about being hugged by Manta Rays, but they had heads like angels with dreadlocks!  That’s pretty lavender I suppose but by no means the strangest of the dreams I’ve had of late.

That was a 15 minute brain fart and I need to start work now.

Adios.