Shaking Stevens

If you're going to spew, spew into this

This morning, and against all of the odds, Nick managed to get up in time to catch his flight back to Blighty. It was another quiet night at the office. I don't think I've ever drunk so much in my life as I have in the past couple of weeks. My hands seem to be permanently shaking, but it has been an absolute blinder. The intensity of this classic UK binge drinking episode is actually down to the French. They have introduced Nick and myself to a card game called 'fuck the dealer'. And my god, has the dealer (and everyone else) ever got fucked... We were buying bottles of vodka from the bar, along with litres of sprite and jugs of ice. Basically the game revolves around a higher / lower scenario. If you guess the card to be a two, and it's an ace, then you have to drink 15 sips (the difference between the two cards). My personal highlight was guessing a king and it was a three, which meant 12 sips, and nick, being the gentlemen he is, had just refilled my cup. At this stage we were playing with a german guy we'd met, the two french girls and three english girls who were our neighbours and i'd invited along as an apology for being so rowdy the night before. Now what nick had neglected to do was add any sprite to the jug of vodka. Because of the amount of sips I was due, I just picked it up and downed it. Needless to say I instantly spewed everywhere, which somewhat detracted from my attempts at an apology to the english girls.

Ouch

That night was a complete and utter blur, and I woke up with two new tattoo's that a drunken Indonesian man had given me at 3am. Nick got away lightly and only had one. Now when you get a tattoo you're not supposed to go in a swimming pool for two weeks, needless to say we were in a swimming pool within two minutes. So on the negative side I now have 'Dan' tattooed on the bottom of my foot, but on the plus side it only cost me three pounds. Other negatives include hepatitis, having a random mans name tattooed on the bottom of my foot and trying to keep the sole of my foot clean on a fooking beach (I am fully reassured that the needles were sterelized, as Florian was slightly more sober than me and watched them remove them from the packet).

Gili paradise

We managed to miss the boat back to Bali four days in a row, so nick has spent the significant time of his holiday on the Gili islands, which is far from a bad thing. The place is amazing, great nightlife and beautiful scenery. After a week or so almost every local on the island seemed to know our name, although I don't realy recall speaking to that many of them. For some reason on our last night some irate little indonesian man bottled me across the back of my head. It can't have been hard as it didn't break and I barely had a lump. I suspect it was to do with the french girls, as they were on a mission to abuse any local who attempted to speak to the. For the past week they had been getting regularly hassled by them, and they were always hanging around outside their bungalow. They told us that they felt like they were constantly being watched, and then one day one of them was in the shower and had a weird feeling that someone was watching. She went round the back of the bungalow and there was a fucking ladder leading up to their shower room window, which they didn't take too well (feisty one she is). So after that they lobbed all of their stuff into our room and I'd hidden our ladder, they went on a mission to abuse any local who they recognised, one of whom I suspect was they guy who attacked me. This left me with a couple of options, go after him and probably get attacked by a load more of them, or just let it go, which I obviously did. Asshole. My alternative theory is that he was one of the two hundred hawkers that nick pointed to me and said 'he wants one', which led to some pretty awkward moments. We came back to bali yesterday (kuta, yippee skippy) and the locals have further engraciated themselves upon the french by stealing their camera. This is now the 4th time that their camera has been stolen from them, and it is a gutter as they had so many photo's of us on the gili's. This latest bout of thievery reminds me of a story the frenchies told us about in nha trang in Vietnam. They were walking home one night and the saw a man passed out in an alleyway in only his pants. They approached him and it turns out that he'd been having a shit in the alleyway and someone had crept up behind him, hit him with a brick and taken everything, including his clothes. Probably some karma involved. This is certainly not the first story I've heard about nha trang. They also told us about one guy who'd been mugged two nights in a row by the same two guys, so he said he was going to take his mate out with him that night and fight back. Four hours later they saw them run past the bar they were in hotly pursued by the two Vietnamese men mugging them again. A German girl also got taken to a Vietnamese man's house and was forced to take out cash and play blackjack avaunt a Chinese man against her will. It seems bizarre that instead of just mugging her they made her play this card game, I like a gamble as much as the next man, but I don't think the odds are particularly stacked in our favour in such situations

Woodman catching some sun

The sunsets on the isalnd were pretty special, I wanted to go and watch it one night after having a nap. When I got up I realised that nick had actually locked me into the room, where I was stuck for the next two funfilled hours. For revenge I dragged his bed outside of the room and into the street when I got home that night (and the following night). The inspiration came from me telling nick about the time I was on holiday and I was sharing a twin room with a mate. I came back from the beach one day and the lad had pulled our two beds together and was shagging the gap inbetween them. After I told nick this I came home one afternoon to find our beds had been pushed together... Out of the room his bed goes!

Team fuck the dealer

On our final night nick handily managed to lose our room key and so needless to say he kicked the lock off the door, taking both the padlock bracket and the door handle with it. Luckily we managed to cobble it back together with a combination of window screws and drawing pins. That night we met a french canadian gay cage fighting phyicist, there can't be too many of those around. I also managed to rectify the issues outlined in my previous post, back in the ball game! So i'm going to stay in bali with the frenchies and florian the german guy, as well as ollie who I met whilst I was diving. I would love to say that now nick has departed that I may be able to squeeze in a bit of detox, but I think we all know that this will not happen... I'm also going to go and try and view the cctv from the club we were in (sky garden, fucking awesome club) to see if we can track down the asshole who stole their camera. But fair play, that club is a testament to how a club should be run (it's actually the one that got bombed a few years back, where 260 people lost their lives) My final thought is for the european cup final tonight, come on Barcelona.