One Night In Bangkokm being patronised.
“Will you come with us?”
“Do I have any choice?”
“No Madam.”
And so I ended up in police custody in hideous Monaco.

MONACO
When Monaco asked “What Do You Want From Me&[…]

Ancient civilizations have always appealed to me. Not just the orgies and debauchery – though they appeal enough to counter the fact that Gin will not have been invented for some considerable time. No, whilst ancient pottery and tales are full […]

Despite their historic animosity, it is quite easy to get to Greece from Turkey. So after filling up on Turkish Delight (not to be confused with Afternoon Delight, which is anything but an afternoon delight, more a somnalistic paean to the worst sex […]

You just can’t get a boat our of Israel it seems. Don’t get me wrong, I was enjoying all the chicken soup and the general hospitality, whilst clearly not necessarily approving of the socio-political situation. Decent oranges though, almos[…]

Egypt was supposed to be a respite for me, a chance to relax after the cattle truck experience and held by the marines. Instead I was remarkably uncomfortable, and I found out why quickly. The part of Egypt I was in was called Memphis. The first, ori[…]

I was taken by the soldiers into custody where I explained how I had gotten into Iraq and what I was doing there in the first place. I was pleased to see that my mission resonated with the marines which surprised me a touch, until one of the chaps ex[…]

There are middle class people of my acquaintance, say Bryan Ferry, who think traveling by bus is analogous be being carried in a cattle truck. Having now spent two days in a cattle truck, I can tell them that the number 73, even on the busiest day on[…]

Somehow this post got eaten by the Internet. Possible at the behest of
a) afghanistani people traffickers
b) Flock Of Seagull Fans
c) British hairdress and barbers

I RAN – A Flock Of Seagulls
Guess what. Original old me thought it best to take[…]

I was now heading north on my comfy, soundproofed train, and increasingly getting worried about my route. The blissful silence and sound free rocking movement (now that’s what I call rocking) had lulled me to sleep, and when I woke up I realise[…]

Trance-tipping is a sport analogous to cow tipping. You stealthily sneak up to some mong head dancing to a couple of bleeps and a sample of a squealing constipated man, and then up-end the fool on to the sand. They continue to writhe like some upside[…]