Chapter 18 - Tick Box Tourism

Yesterday our brave wanderers set off on a "trek" to a) hike through the jungle, b) ride an elephant, c) visit a hill tribe village and d) go white water rafting. All the tourist boxes ticked in one day.

With the sun on their faces and courage in their hearts they lofted machetes and headed into the virgin rainforest like latter day Dr Livingstones. The entire trekking group consisted of a Thai little old lady guide, 4 colonials (2 septics and 2 aussies) our heros and another son of fair Albion.

Of course with exploring to be done the 3 Brits quickly went into proper British Imperial mode and with a pot of pink paint and brushes led the march into the wild unknown.

At this stage readers of Chapter 16 may have an inkling of the travails facing Biscuit Boy.

Having literally hiked for several minutes up hill and down dale Sir Ranuph had a proper bead on and the cry went up of "nurse, the screens".

Fortunately after a few more minutes they located the waterfall the track led to (hang on what's this about a track - ed).



The trekkers paddled into (in Hoots' case slipped and fell into) a pool halfway down the mighty cataract to cool off before heading off deeper into the woods, well higher actually, about 300 steps higher and by this stage he was leaking at an alarming rate. Fortunately at the top of the staircase was a truck to take them on.

After a quick rejuvanative luncheon, including their first taste of Tamarind - looks like a dog turd tastes like a sweet date - they headed off to tame some wild elephants and go for a trek on them.

Having located some friendly mahmoots and their domesticated beasts they headed off however not before one the the graceful beasts had let out the loudest and longest of farts reducing our travellers to Beavis and Butthead giggling for about 15 minutes not helped by Hoots' observation that they are "just big cows with dicks on their faces". You can't buy class.

After a trek into the jungle and across a river and through a Lisu village (hill tribe). They clambered off. They are not the most comfortable of rides, rather too much rocking and rolling for some tastes.



Next box to tick was white water rafting and so back onto the truck they headed to be transferred to the top of some mighty rapids. Of course when they got there there were no rafts in sight so after a wait of about 2 hours whilst a raft was found (and a guide roused from a rum induced coma) the sun was setting before they finally set out to tame the upper reaches of the Mekong.

The three Brits clambered into the newly christened HMS Tamarind and off they went.

Having somehow survived the first set of mighty rapids and as they gently cruised down the river to the next set through a deep valley Hoots observed that it was like something out of the Lord of the Rings. If by that he meant that our hero with his face moss looks just like Gimli our correspondent would have to agree.



Despite the mashing maelstroms that were the rest of the rapids they shot they survived unscathed and headed back to town for some serious and well deserved Changs.

Boxes ticked.

Chapter 17 - Imp Theory

Our adventurers appear to have discovered a bizarre cloning experiment in Chiang Mai. It would appear that all the local serving girls (behind the bars and doling out the massages) are all exactly the same.

They are universally 5 feet tall, long dark hair in a pony tail, cute in a non-sexual way (this must be so, even Hoots was not attracted) and they speak in a strange chiruppy way most unlike the other Thais.

You don't see them on the streets just working serving the Changs and they could not be spotted in Bangkok.

Their weird speech is particularly off-putting when they are chatting away to each other whilst giving you a Thai massage and occasionally giggling. Having an imp massage your inner thigh whilst laughing is not an enjoyable experience.

Hoots plans to start importing them to the UK, he is going to call it IMPorting (geddit?).

Chapter 16 - Public Service Announcement

We have been asked to make the following announcement.

When heading off on a trek, into say virgin Thai rainforest, the most important thing to get right is of course one's footwear. For example a pair of old Jesus Creepers that fall apart as soon as you get off the road leaving you barefoot in the jungle is not a great plan.

Chapter 14 - Marco Polo

Well last night he tried on his new fake persona for size and when asked by a Canadian lad what he did replied that he works as a Polo Umpire. Dear lord what a load of all tosh he then had to make up to keep up the pretence.

Don't try this at home folks.

Chapter 15 - T Time

Following our last missive the brave adventurers headed off on a saunter around town ending up being dragged into a local bar to play pool. Clearly the locals recognise champion cue merchants when they see one.

Rather oddly the table was a full size snooker table which is a less than ideal forum for playing pool. Nevertheless Biscuit Boy proceeded to trounce Hoots several times before a wizened old local man decided to step in and spare him from more embarassment. He imparted Hoots with the Wisdom of the Pool Ancients who proceeded to win the last frame just in time for the exhausted travellers to take in a well deserved Thai massage.

It has to be recorded that a traditional Thai massage is no walk in the park as Sir Ranulph put it "that was like lying offside in a ruck when playing HMP Leyhill". Hoots merely observed how disappointed he was that they had chosen a respectable establishment that didn't offer a "Happy Finish".

To assuage his disappointment they hit the night market (Chiang Mai is famous for them) and set about purchasing tasteless tat for their loved ones (shurely delightful presents that will be treasured for years to come? - ed) before hitting the Changs (the local brew) in O'Malleys (yes the ubiquitous Irish pub can be found in Thailand). Having fought off the unwelcome attentions of a pair of Titanic Teutons they enjoyed an evening of self-indulgent guitar solos from Took (the Thai guitar hero) before taking a Tuk Tuk home. Top that.

Chapter 13 - I Pod therefore I am (who writes this rubbish? - ed)

His i-pod is broken, it works occasionally but always seems to go wrong just as he is about to start a trip, like for example now to Koh Samui.

Let's hope he can get it fixed soon or he is going to be even grimmer company than usual.

Chapter 12 - Lord of Ants

Anyone with any knowledge of your two brave fellows will not be surprised to learn that they have had their first run in with the police. The only surprise is that a) it took so long and b) the officers just stopped the coach they were on from Bangkok to Chiang Mai for speeding.

Chiang Mai is proving to be fertile ground indeed for your correspondent.

Things began to get a little weird yesterday afternoon when the explorers noticed that there was a long column of ants travelling to and from the pool of condensation at the bass of Hoots' glass (and drinking when they got there). Following some examination the nest was located in the table top. At this stage Hoots decided he must be the water bringer and therefore some kind of deity to these poor little bugs. Sir Ranulph was all for frying them up for a feast - he appears to have got the taste for eating insects.

Hoots felt it a sensible idea to take the table apart to locate the spit and sawdust effigy that they must have constructed of him to worship at.

Then last night after a leisurely meal on the riverbank they got rather lost on the stroll back to Chiang Mai proper and ended up in a real local part of town - the sort of place that has not seen a Farang in a hundred years. Hoots spotted across the street a "bar" that was in truth no more than two ancient Banyang trees leaning together and, as they entered, a huge early '90s kaoroke (shurely thish ish not shpelt right - ed?) machine and a look of awe on the very young local faces that two stupid Farangs had just walked in.

A certain level of uncomfortableness was quickly established when the very young waitress (certainly a teenager) brought their beers over and then sat down on the end of the table to help them pour their beers. As the adventurers joshed away she literally just sat there and re-plenished their glasses.

Things then took a turn for the really weird when another patron of the bar wandered over to join the explorers. She spoke a little (a very little) English and you may assume, gentle reader, that the boys have learnt nothing of the native tongue. However the international language of amore was sufficent for her to communicate her desire that Hoots sing a song on the kaoroke (if shomeone knowsh how to spell thish please add a comment - ed) machine. Now Hoots frankly sings like a petrol driven chainsaw being taken to a cow so this would have been a bad idea but as the songs were all in Thai this was never going to fly.

So instead their new companion serenaded them and your correspondent started to look for the nearest exit not staffed by young Thai thugs.

Having sung them a sweet (possibly) song they exchanged names. Hers was KWANZ. As Sir Ranulph observed "that sounds like a rock station from the deep south". She then insisted on exchanging phone numbers, sadly Sir Ranulph did not have the "flirt divert" number on him so just gave her Nigel's instead. Watch out Nigel you will have a visitor from the East very soon.

That was all last night and your correspondent hoped to be able to cut short this piece of reportage at this point. Sadly this post has followed lunch at the local Bavarian bar (oh obviously travel to Thailand to eat Bavarian food) and a run in with the local german pervert (we'll call him Gunther).

Gunther and Hoots kicked it off from the start and there isn't a hugely seedy bar, club or brothel in this part of the world that this chap did not know about. His regaling of the fun to be had with under-age girls was particularly unpleasant (and again had your correspondent looking for the exits). This would have been bad enough until Gunther remembered that he had been made redundant by an Englishman 7 years ago and launched into a general tirade of abuse at how the working man is oppressed. The irony of his oppression of local women seemed totally lost on the freak. Anyway one quick retreat later and he has been left to his own devices (and eighth beer of the day at 1500).

Tomorrow our heros go elephant riding and whitewater rafting so your correspondent will probably not have time for a post but then they head to Koh Samui the day after. Of course they are planning to trek there and establish a new route through the bush equipped only with 2 machetes, 10 native bearers and an elephant (shurely fly first class? - ed).

Chapter 11 - It's grim oop North

Well the adventurers made it to Chiang Mai here in the North of Thailand. As one would expect they all talk with odd accents and the stray dogs all look like whippets. Your correspondent is sure he spotted a ferret earlier.

They have checked into the Rose Guest House. To single out the lack of vigour of the showers (there are faster glaciers) would be to miss out on the opportunity of commenting on the lack of forgiveness in the solid wood mattresses, and its none of your soft pine either this is proper hard wood.

Chapter 10 - Mother gets Plastered

Yes we know we reported this back in the Prelude but to update you all she has now really been plastered - her ankle was broken not sprained - and will be so for 4 weeks. Oh dear.

Chapter 9 - Bangkok - a retrospective

Apparently your correspondent isn't allowed a day off and according to his editor needs to write some form of travelogue and he is feeling most put upon (just get on with it - ed).

Bangkok has proved to be a very interesting place. It is a lot bigger than anticipated and a lot cleaner. The streets are full of hustle and bustle and street vendors abound everywhere. There is very little hassle from them and the only people who really bug you are the Tuk Tuk drivers (3 wheeled taxis) who just want to take you to some scam rather than where you actually want to go which is quite frustrating.

There are literally hundreds of Wats around here which are all rather classical Buddhist Temples with spires and fantastical statues and carvings and some quite brillant coloured mosaic decoration. We have been staying round the back of a Wat and it lends a really calming air to the place. There are monks (in orange) and nuns (in white) wandering around all the time.

Every building has to have its own little spirit house which looks like a mini-temple but is actually designed to be a home for the bad spirits that would occupy the building itself otherwise. To make sure that the spirits prefer the spirit house it needs to be more attractive to the spirits than the building which is achieved by candles and burning incense and food offerings. They are really ornate and quite fascinating.

The locals are amazingly friendly and very patient which as our pair of explorers know no Thai at all is a real help.

The visitors are a suprising mix. There are a huge number of couples which was not expected at all and very few solo travellers, almost everyone is travelling with someone. The exception to this however are the seedy sex tourists and the clients of the "Ting Tong Industry" who are generally travelling alone and are a universally seedy bunch.

There is one chap in particular wearing a wife beater all the time with particularly lank hair who has got child sex pervert written all over him (not literally that would be silly). In light of his seediness levels he has been nick-named "The Seed Merchant". The real tragic losers are however the ones with there Ting Tongs or out here to get one. It is perhaps tolerable for fat old men looking for companionship but there are quite a few youngish men out here as well (certainly some are less than 30) and it causes one to pause and think about the sadness of their lives. Not for long mind just until the next sip of beer.

Talking of beer there are two local brews Chang and Singha. Chang is strong as hell and Singha is nearly as bad. Staying sober is proving to be a challenge too far for our heros so far - last night after a few they tucked into some squid skewers covered in chilli sauce from a street vendor, having eaten them there was quite a lot of sauce left in the bag so after a quick game of papers, scissors, stone which Sir Ranulph lost he had to neck it, not a nice experience he tells us.

Revenge was had later when Hoots had to neck the next bag having lost at spoof. This may well be a recurring feature. According to the editor that is enough travelogue for now, great some time off before Chiang Mai tomorrow.

Chapter 8 - Dumb and Dumber

Well they finally met someone to talk to last night. Some lad called Ashley on his way home to Oz from Blighty. Why was he heading home they asked?

"Well I turned up in England 2 weeks ago planning to get a job as a plumber and it was freezing. I didn't have any warm clothes or money to buy them so I had to come home. Am going to work at home and save some money for some warm clothes before heading back."

"Surely," the Quasi-Queer Lawyer (showing off his rapier like cross-examination skills), "you'll need to save for another ticket as well, would it not have been simpler to get a days work as a plumber in England and buy clothes there"

"Hadn't thought of that"

Genius.

Our postbag has asked for an update on Jasper (the Dane from Singapore). Well all your correspondent can report is that he was last seen being dragged from a fight by Hoots before being put to bed in time to catch his flight to Oz were he was going to become a professional Aussie rules footballer.

Chapter 7 - Muay Thai et al

Well last night your correspondent enjoyed his first evening of Muay Thai (Thai Boxing) at the Lumphini stadium - said by afficionados to be the premier location for good solid biffo.

Our explorers also came along, rather tragically both in white tops hoping to get splattered with blood. Your correspondent of course merely took along his note book to report events faithfully.

It has to be said that whilst the atmosphere was amazing - as the fighters fought a Thai band played eerily soothing music in the background whilst the Thais cheered every knee hit with a loud "Knee" (probably not but that is what it sounded like) and the bookies in the pits seemed to be running several books at once so there was a real cacophany in the stadium - the biffo was a bit disappointing. It may well have been the fights but an awful lot of the time they seemed just to be grappling whilst occasionally lifting a knee into their opponent's ribs.

There was some good fighting in there but it fell somewhat short of expectations which when it cost 2,000 Baht to get in (which is an awful lot here - more then Sir Ranuplh has spent in the last 3 days) was a shame. However they did hand out free key rings so that is all right then.

The particular highlights were, in no particular order, a knockout knee blow to the Solar Plexus, the penultimate fight between two 100lb fighters (i.e. tiny - the pair together weighed less than Biscuit Boy) and the wrong turn made as we went to leave the stadium taking us through the changing area, with the usual smell of sweat and embrocation, and out through the players' entrance.

In other news our gastronauts continued their epicurean adventures by sharing a plateful of chitterlings. Left Hoots feeling distinctly unwell but our hero enjoyed them immensely.

Having changed guest house a day ago (for fact fans - from the Top Guest House on the Khao San Road to the New Siam Guest House just off it) our hero has had the first opportunity to use his travel towel purchased specially at Heathrow. Travel it may be, towel it ain't. It is closer to a Chamois. Mind he is looking particularly shiny and polished today.

Bangkok has thrown up some very weird sights so far but the weirdest was yesterday when a dog moon-walked down the road. Clearly Michael Jackson still has some fans.

Our brave adventurers are moving on tomorrow to Chiang Mai. As the intrepid fellows they are they are of course really going edgy on the mode of transport - a great big air-conditioned bus. Oh the adventure of it all.

Our post bag has been literally empty with requests for a description of the taste of scorpion and clamourings for photos of the big event. We can report the taste to be like a beef pork scratching. As to the photos sadly due to technical difficulties they cannot yet be uploaded. We hope to rectify that very soon.

Next installment probably from Chiang Mai.

Chapter 6 - The Stickleback Tour

Well today has been spent wandering around various Wats (temples) which of course has meant long trousers and for normal people a T-Shirt. Sir Ranulph of course insisted on wearing a heavy-weight rugby shirt.

Now if there is one thing that his physique is not designed for it is walking around in heavy clothing in 35 degree heat with near 100% humidity. He has lost half his body weight in sweat. A nice smell it is not.

Chapter 5 - The Bugs bite Back

Well mosquitos to be precise. He's covered in the blighters. 10 at the last count. HO HO HO.

Chapter 4 - A Bug's Life

Our two adventurers headed out last night to explore the best of the Khao San Road Night Life. The beer was strong (6.4%) and came in bloody big bottles and they soon got absolutely smashed.

Their drunkeness imbued them with a rather foolish epicurean courage and having tasted a variety of kebabs from various mobile BBQ vans their dreams (shurely nightmares? - ed) came true when into view hoved a mobile bug stand serving a variety of maggots, grubs, crickets, grasshoppers, beetles and scorpions. The boys feasted on the bugs. Their efforts at eating scorpions in particular drew many admiring glances (shurely looks of horror? - ed). Pictures should be with us soon.

A quiet one for tonight we are promised. We shall see.

Chapter 3 - Jimmy Saville

Not much to report save a journey to Bangkok. Amusingly just as lunch was being served on the plane it hit a huge patch of wicked turbulence. Older readers will recall a Jim'll Fix It in which Jim fixed it for a troupe of fat scouts to ride a roller-coaster whilst eating their lunch. It was much like that with tea and chocolate mousse flying everywhere. It seems unlikely he will ever get the mousse out of his beard!

After that excitment the jet lag set in and the pair of them were passed out sparko in the guest house by 1600 and slept through the night, very rock and roll.

Hopefully more exciting news to report sometime soon.

Chapter 2 - The World of the Weird

The day started poorly for our intrepid explorers - when Hoots woke up he foolishly reacted to the cheery "Good Morning" from the next door bunk by leaning over the partition to say hi. He was of course confronted by the sight of Jasper (the Great Dane) lying full length arms behind his head in the all together. An eyeful of cock is never a great way to start a day (better than a mouthful - ed).

As a day it was marred by a hangover on Hoots' part which lasted until about 2200, very poor form.

However they did manage to achieve the one thing they came to Singapore to do - enjoy a Singapore Sling at the Longbar of Raffles so not totally wasted.



And at that point one would like to draw a line under the day but sadly one can't ignore the descent into a weird alternative universe around 2230.

As our brave explorers enjoyed a Tiger beer at the bar of the Hostel they were chatting to Jasper (ibid) and a couple of Bogtrotters (Irish) when a local girl approached them with a microphone claiming to be a local radio DJ after material (the lies girls will tell to talk to The Bogun!).

She apparently presents the 1400 to 1600 show on the local dance station and wanted to get some interviews with travellers to liven up her show. She certainly got liveliness but whether she got useful material is an entirely different question.

She kicked off with an interview with Jasper who, classy fellow that he is, when asked what his most memorable moment of his travels to date was replied "emptying my balls this morning". I fear even the most aggresive editing will not leave anything useful from that interview.

Our brave explorer (or Sir Ranulph as everyone is starting to know him as) was wearing the most shocking floral shirt which caught the attention of the radio girl (Greta) who kicked off her interview with him with "so now I'm sitting next to a bloke in a floral shirt who must be a poet or an artist or something, what is it you do?"

Clearly a great reader of humanity.

After a very surreal interview, to be broadcast on Singaporean radio sometime soon she joined the adventurers for a drink. What a mistake to make.

After establishing her celebrity status (not front page of the Straits Times but good enough for a generic celebrity reality show - although in light of Paris Travelodge in the CBB house back home that may not mean much) the questioning moved on to her knowledge of blighty. She claimed to have been but thought London was a bit "edgy". When asked what she meant by this she explained that when she had been there last summer she had gone to a club and the singer of the live band had stuck the microphone stand up his arse. Hoots claimed to know the club.

After that she just asked The Bogun to hit her (something he normally needs to pay for at specialist clubs) before being pressurised into 'fessing up that she was a lesbian. Or as Hoots put it "F*** me, you're a rug muncher!?"

And amazingly on that note she left saying a cheery farewell as she left and singling out our hero with "bye then quasi-queer lawyer". He appeared to prefer "Biscuit Boy"!

Oh and it wasn't Chinese New Year, that comes later, apologies. Next stop Thailand.

Chapter 1 - The Bogun has Landed

Well by some unholy miracle the fool made it to the airport, via the medium of insuring himself on his mother's car then driving her home and then getting his sister to take him to the Airport.

His first night in Singapore was marked by a copious amount of Tiger beer. Indeed the receptionist at the Hostel remarked on the speed with which he and Hoots ordered their first beer - most of which had disappeared before the keys had arrived.

He then turned into a performing seal towards the end of the night catching biscuits in his mouth as they were thrown at him. You can't buy class. He is now known around the Hostel as "Biscuit Boy".

Chinese New Year tonight, who can predict what that holds.

The Prelude - The Finale

Well what can one say. Last night was the idiot's leaving do. One can tell he is a total drunk by the fact that the bar (who's profits are now going to free-fall) had a leaving present for him (a hip flask appropriately). Some of his more deluded work colleagues had had a whip round and had a few presents for him. I can see how the Alka Seltzer and Ibruprofen may come in handy but the condoms? How can they possibly think this fool can pull?

By all accounts it was a good night however whilst walking home his mother fell over on the "slippy cobbles" (yeah right I'm sure the 4 bottles of wine and the flaming sambucas didn't contribute) and sprained her ankle. She can't drive (or basically walk) today so goodness knows how he is going to get to Heathrow.

Fingers crossed he gets there and the next update comes from Singapore.

The Prelude Part 4

Well it continues. This morning he decided to go to Birmingham to get his Thai visa. Of course it would have been too simple to check what time the Consulate was open and so he just decided to go by the first cheap train (i.e. after 0930). Imagine his surprise and dismay when Hoots rang him to tell him the Consulate closed at 1130 and the conductor told him that was the ETA of the train to Birmingham New Street.

He got into New Street at 1128 and proceeded to get lost in the station before eventually, having obtained directions from the stupidest man in the world (an information clerk in the Pallisades shopping centre who did not know which was the New Street exit) making it to the Consulate just after 1130.

By some miracle, that he so little deserves, the very kind Consul agreed to issue his Visa anyway and he now has his.

Flukey sod.

The Prelude Part 3

Oh it gets better. Now his boiler has blown up and he's taken his kitchen to pieces. The childlike idiocy of it all is what I despair at most.

Anyway he has asked me to publish the present flight details for anyone who actually cares (basically his mother) so here goes.

London Heathrow to Singapore 18 January, Singapore Air 2215, SQ 321 (if he makes it)
Singapore to Bangkok 21 January, Singapore Air 1305, SQ 64
Bangkok to Singapore 27 February, Singapore Air 1610, SQ 67
Singapore to Sydney 27 February, Singapore Air 2040, SQ 221
Cairns to Auckland 31 March, Air New Zealand 1115, NZ 172
Auckland to Nadi (Fiji) 3 April, Air New Zealand 1825, NZ 20
Nadi to Los Angeles 10 April, Air New Zealand 2320, NZ 20
New York JFK to London Heathrow, Virgin 1950, VS46

Well that makes a fascinating read I'm sure.

The Prelude Part 2

Good news, I bumped into my old chum "The Mystery Reporter" and as he is much funnier than me I asked him to come with us to write this masterpiece and he agreed. So there are now 3 of us going. The more astute of readers may notice that you never see The Mystery Reporter and me at the same time however. Right over to him.

Well, now that the blathering idiot (shurely intrepid explorer - ed?) has stopped prattling on, time for some decent reportage of his preparations for the adventure of a lifetime.

There is no doubt that this has to be the most disorganised and poorly prepared trip this writer has ever had the misfortune to be associated with. Frankly if it wasn't for his mother agreeing to drive him to Heathrow I doubt he'd make it as far as there. For those of you who might doubt this criticism let's examine a few basic facts:-

Ideal things not to do before going round the world for 4 months no. 1.

Buy a derelict flat and try and do it up in time to let it out before you go away.

Guess who's done this? Yes the blathering idiot. So far he has electrocuted himself (twice), nearly broken a finger (unfortunately (shurely fortunately - ed?) he broke the power drill instead) and had to call out tradesman as if they were going out of fashion. Genius. Oh and it still isn't finished. I'm guessing funds are going to be tight on this shindig.

Ideal things not to do before going round the world for 4 months no. 2.

Forget to check your tickets.

Guess when he checked? Yes yesterday and did he do so off his own bat? No Hoots had to suggest it and could he find half the tickets? The more astute amongst you will be amazed to learn that Hoots is going to take charge of the tickets from here on in so at least there is a chance of some foreign travel to be reported on.

With 15 days to go your correspondent feels certain he will add to the list so stay tuned.

In amongst all this incompetence you may take it as read that he has not sorted out his jabs, malaria tablets or visas. Your correspondent is not optimistic he ever will.