hoonmagoon

DE JA BRUGGE

2007-09-09T20:22:00.000+01:00

I’m watching “A Fistful of Dollars” and the Americano who is quick on the draw just mowed down four bad dudes with his six shooter. Street justice western stylin’!

Anyway, despite promising myself that I would never return to Brugge that’s exactly where I ended up for the August long weekend. We roamed the streets eating pots of mussels, drinking Belgian beer that would knock your socks off and photographing anything that moved like a pack of Japanese tourists.

Bloody tourist!

This lane is all that remains of the old red light district. Now the only boobies you'll see are made out of chocolate.

SHANGHAI - JINGAN TEMPLE

2007-09-02T18:51:00.000+01:00

In a country where belief in a higher power other than Mao power has been frowned upon it's nice to see there are still places where you can go to burn incense and pray for that new Gucci handbag.

SHANGHAI - HELLO SAILOR!

2007-09-02T18:31:00.000+01:00

I thought long and hard about whether to post this photo but the world has to know. Massive night at Guandi’s for Eugene and James birthday. Too much green tea & scotch and I end up sitting in Ronald McDonald’s lap.

SHANGHAI - I WANNA GO TO YU YUAN GARDENS

2007-09-02T17:56:00.000+01:00

HONG KONG - THE SEVENS

2007-09-02T17:18:00.000+01:00

SHANGHAI - THE PAD!

2007-09-02T16:19:00.000+01:00

This is the magnificent view from my apartment in Luban Lu. From my balcony I can spend hours, martini in hand marveling over the post modern industrial architecture that Shanghai is well known for. Sometimes when I leave the balcony doors open, a fine layer of industrial dust settles over the orange leather couch, Disney paraphernalia and faithfully replicated Michelangelo’s “Creation of David”.

I am now sterile and impotent and require the assistance of hand pump.

SHANGHAI - TAXI MANDARIN

2007-09-01T21:31:00.000+01:00

I’ve decided to give up on Mandarin lessons as they were getting in the way of my hangovers. Besides, I have mastered the art of taxi mandarin. This enables me to get around town with little fuss unless I have the misfortune of getting in a taxi driven by some poor country bumpkin whose village is now at the bottom of the Yangtze River because of some new dam thingy who can’t seem to understand my impeccable Chinese.

The Art of Taxi Mandarin

Luban Lu tao di – Down the end of Luban Lu. Probably not very helpful unless you live at the end of Luban Lu but this got me home plenty of times when plastered.

Ting bu dong – I don’t understand. Combine this with blank look of incomprehension normally in response to something the taxi driver is saying to you like……Do you want to take the elevated road?

Zhe li ting – STOP!

SHANGHAI - SHITDIGGER!

2007-09-01T21:06:00.000+01:00

I am writing to you at Oxford Dictionary to request that your next edition includes the following word.

Shitdigger (noun) – a woman who dates someone who has no money or is poor.

I can assure you that it is already in general use in Shanghai. Eug’s girlfriend uses it constantly. Despite her rudimentary command of the English language she takes great glee in calling herself a shitdigger.

SHANGHAI – GOD DAMN CHINESE IS FUN

2007-09-01T21:00:00.000+01:00

I made a major break through in Mandarin today while walking down Nanjing Xi Lu, my first chinese sentence. After just a few lessons, I had finally constructed my first understandable phrase. I felt a joy that only a mother could feel as their child babbles their first words.

Ni xihuan wo de xiao di di ma? Do you like my willy?

Shirley was suitably embarrassed as I shouted it out load as we walked down the street jam packed with shoppers.

MEMOIRS OF A KOREAN GEISHA

2007-09-01T20:58:00.000+01:00

I’m at home on a Saturday night nursing a hangover that could incapacitate a small pony with equine influenza or so I like to tell myself. So I thought I might post some entries and pictures from my time spent in China last year as I seem to have done nothing for the last two months or at least nothing worth blogging about. I did turn thirty in Bangkok but that’s another story.

WHERE THE FUCK IS NANDOS CHICKEN?

2007-06-24T20:44:00.000+01:00

VIVA LA PORTO!

2007-06-23T21:50:00.000+01:00

Porto is like that beautiful woman that you spy from afar who upon closer inspection is actually a bit of an ugger. I’m terminally nearsighted.

It’s old and dilapidated. The riverside is a honeycomb of crumbling facades, pockmarked with dirty broken windows overlooking narrow cobbled streets but this is actually what makes it so cool. It’s like Cuba without the vintage American cars and cheap prostitutes or so I’ve heard.

Many years ago, some bright spark came up with the novel idea of decorating the exterior of your home with bathroom tiles and naked mannequins and to my great delight many buildings in Porto are still decorated in this fashion.

DRINK DRINK MAN WOMAN

2007-06-09T13:07:00.000+01:00

I GOT WOODS!

2007-05-06T12:26:00.000+01:00

There’s a strange paradigm shift occurring in Korean society. Where previously, Korean parents would proudly boast that their son or daughter was a doctor, lawyer or reluctantly an accountant the occupation of choice seems to be professional golfer.

I quickly realised at an early age that it wasn’t the sport for me when being tutored by my father on the importance of a good swing I promptly hit him in the face on the back swing. Swing lessons came to an abrupt halt. My only regret is that no one was filming it on video camera. On more than one occasion, I caught my father looking wistfully at the television as Tiger Woods hugged his father after winning yet another tournament.

Upon greeting each other for the first time Korean parents must compare their children’s achievements in order to establish their standing in the social pecking order.

Korean Parent 1 – My son is a doctor who specialises in micro heart surgery on premature babies.

Korean Parent 2 – My daughter is a professional golfer.

Korean Parent 1– You win hands down. I tried to get my kid into it but he developed the yips and couldn’t put for shit. He can perform surgery on a heart the size of a pea but can't sink a three footer. Go figure.

With the hoards of young Korean golfers invading the professional ranks it begs the question. Are we genetically predisposed to golf?

I OFTEN WONDER WHAT PANDA TASTES LIKE!

2007-04-29T12:49:00.000+01:00

This is by far the funniest article I have read all year. It's so bizzare it's like something out of South Park.

http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/2006-05-11/news/xtreme-cuisine/1

My favourite quotes

"Nuge kinda crazy," says Yamamoto. "In Japanese, they say 'kuru-kuru-paa.' You see that film March of the Penguins? Remember how mother go get food to eat, then walk a long way back to ice where father keep nest? We lie on slope, fire on mother penguin as they walk back. Nuge, he shoot flaming arrow at one penguin, and scare many away. Penguin explode, they have so much oil in body. He run down and eat it right there, while still on arrow! He can't wait, he so hungry for penguin."

"I fix her penguin liver pâté, with peppercorn and Armagnac. She stay with me the night and we make love for 15 hour, she love pâté so much. I love her long time. This before I have girlfriend. She say I too controversy to write about. Too controversy!"

"One day I hope I can cook whole Mexcan," sighs Yamamoto. "Maybe baby Mexcan that mother sell to me. Then I make for my good friend. I know Senator will like to eat Mexcan. He only like Mexcan when on his dinner plate."

OH YEAH I WENT TO BARCELONA........LIKE MONTHS AGO

2007-04-15T21:46:00.000+01:00

I had a no idea who Gaudi was before I went to Barcelona but I thought it was incredibly cheeky you could charge admission to a half-finished building encased in scaffolding and cluttered with the debris of construction. With the current strategy based upon tourist dollars funding any further construction the current rate of the building should be finished by 2020. Considering it's taken a hundred years to get it to this point I think 2050 would be a safer bet.

Gaudi was heavily infuenced by Lego and Mechano as a child.

YOU SPEWED ON ME!

2007-04-13T21:44:00.000+01:00

For five glorious minutes he seemed to having the time of his life, his arms raised roaring his affection for a city he had known for less than a day.

He started to sway. I feel sick.

I helped him to the bathroom where the kindly old attendant ushered him into a clean cubicle which he immediately soiled.

Are you okay mate? Can you make it to the cab?

Yeah I think so.

I helped him to the exit until I felt something warm and wet down my side and looked down to see the puddle on the floor. Bugger.

You spewed on me Dazel and I’m an old testament man from way back. An eye for an eye! A spew for a spew! It might take years but vomit is a dish best served cold.

ROCK N’ ROLL WRESTLING

2007-03-31T11:15:00.000+01:00

Everybody loves violence on TV. I can’t get enough of it. In fact, I think there should be more of it, more blokes hitting other blokes, more chicks hitting other chicks, priests hitting rabbis, Romans hitting Carthaginians. As an equal opportunist I’m all for chicks in boxing, pillow fighting and wrestling in all of it’s purest forms, jelly and mud. If we can beat the crap out of each other hit why cant they as well. It’s only fair.

However, call me a traditionalist but I’m also a great believer that what happens in the ring stays in the ring. I yearn for the good old days when after a hard days wrestling you could go down to the local and have a beer with your greatest nemesis. Leo “The Cripple” Kastidis and I would have drink together even after I had administered my much feared Octopussy quadruple leg lock on his prosthetic limb.

It’s when ring rivalries spill out onto the street that tragedy can occur. I witnessed an example of this on Friday night. While having a quiet beer with some mates down Houndsditch way the peaceful serenity was shattered by a moment of madness. “The Brunette”, a two-time mud wrestling champion and former housewife had taken offense to the Drunk’s use of the Hippy Hippy Shake on her boyfriend. Enraged she unleashed a mighty tomahawk chop onto the Drunk’s head but unbeknownst to us all was the glass she had concealed in her hand. The Drunk reeled away her head a bloody mess.

Girls glassing other girls. Welcome to London.

Listening to Peter Bjorn & John – Writers Block

THEY CALL HIM FLIPPER!

2007-03-22T22:26:00.000Z

My recollections of the visits my family made to the beach mainly revolve around my father with his pants rolled up to his knees smoking a cigarette never getting more than knee deep into the surf. So imagine my surprise when some Korean fella won the 400m freestyle beating into third our very own Grant Hackett.

The most impressive thing is that he beat Hackett with his pants rolled up to his knees while smoking a cigarette in one hand and holding his loafers in the other.

I WOULDN’T PISS ON HIM IF HE WAS ON FIRE!

2007-03-17T13:01:00.000Z

Brixton Academy, The Arcade Fire so what could go wrong? Nothing. Talk about bloody ruddy bloody brilliant. I watched in awe with thousands of other moody angst filled blokes nodding as one to the rocking tunes. Don’t girls like good music?

I told myself I wouldn’t say it but bugger it. They’re even better live.

P.S. Have to stop drinking soju. My head hurts.

I KNOW NUFFINK!

2007-03-15T10:57:00.000Z

Dazel had to be Colonel Klink by default as I have marginally more hair that him. Well okay, I have a full head of hair and he’d be struggling to weave a wig for a kewpie doll.

THIEVING BASTARDS!

2007-01-07T22:41:00.000Z

The Pergamon is a glorious living breathing tribute to the thieving ability of colonial Germany. From what I can tell, they stole a fuck load of shit but not as much stuff as the English as a trip to the British Museum will testify. This must surely piss off the descendents of these countries from which all precious antiquities have been “borrowed”. I know I’d be annoyed.

Anyway, it has the most impressive collection of gay Spartan pottery I have ever seen by far. Daily Spartan life seems to have consisted of lots of naked wrestling, masturbating and sitting around in short skirts with your tool hanging out. Sounds like Mykonos.

As I briskly made my way around the museum, which I often like to do as I find them incredibly boring, suddenly there she was staring back at me. I was gobsmacked. I loved everything about her, her serene smile, her golden orangey flawless skin, her funky taste in hats.

Is it wrong to be attracted to a long dead Egyptian queen? Probably.

Egyptian Dirty Sanchez 5000 B.C.

NEW YEAR PUB CRAWL

2007-01-06T23:00:00.000Z

How was your New Year’s? I went on a pub crawl with a bunch of strangers, drank champagne in a car park in Berlin, frantically waving a sparkler wondering why the fuck I was there and was sexually assaulted by a fat lezzo as the night lit up around me with enough gun powder to win a small war in the Congo. It was surprisingly fun. My night that is, not the lezzo.

NATURAL SELECTION

2006-12-26T20:07:00.000Z

We stumbled out of the club and Carroll was starving. “Mate we gotta get some food! I’m famished”

Chinatown was rammed with drunken tourists and flustered waiters irritably waved us away. The dodgy hot dogs hastily slapped together by shifty looking hot dog men were unappealing. I grew queasy just watching them sizzle and spit on the makeshift barbies.

“Curry at Earls Court?” I suggested, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Yeah let’s do it mate”

Thirty minutes later and we emerged from the curry shop, Carroll frantically tearing the wrapping in his haste to get at the bright orange gruel inside.

He took a bite and was speechless.

“Is it good mate?” I asked, happily tucking into my lamb lavished in oily, brownish gravy, enjoying the greasy mess as you only can when you’re drunk.

Carroll put down his plate. He seemed to be trying to say something.

“Is it shit?” Ungrateful tosser! What did he expect for four pounds at five in the bloody morning.

His face started to go red.

“I’m chooookeeee…….innnngg!”

He stumbled around, desperately wheezing for oxygen his hands grabbing at his throat.

I hesitated.

I paused and stopped to see if anyone was around. Do I give him the Heimlich?

But what if someone saw us? What if someone saw us with my arms around Carroll from behind? What if someone saw us with my arms around Carroll from behind while making what could quite easily be misconstrued as a thrusting movement. Was my newly discovered irrational homophobia going to stop me from saving my mate’s life.

I compromised. How about I whack him on the back a few times and if he passes out then I’ll give him the Heimlich.

I whacked him once.

Twice.

Three times. This is not looking good.

Whack! A fluorescent orange object burst from his mouth and flopped limply onto the pavement.

He gasped long delirious breaths as oxygen filled his starved lungs and colour returned to his face.

“You saved my life, Hoon! You saved my life” he squawked.

I only felt relief. That I wouldn’t have to explain to his mother that her son had died whilst choking on a piece butter chicken but most of all relief that I didn’t have to perform the Heimlich.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” I laughed as he ravenously tucked into the rest of his meal.

I had lost my appetite.

SO THIS IS CHRISTMAS?

2006-12-26T19:55:00.000Z

This year has absolutely flown by and despite all the crap that is going on in the big bad ole world out there I’ve had a pretty good year safe in the knowledge that nobody is going to kick down my front door looking for insurgents or cluster bomb my house.

Sorry, that’s probably a touch depressing. Don’t read Robert Fisk’s latest book “The Great War for Civilisation”. Actually, do read it because it will make you despair for humanity. Fuck we’re c*nts! Yes. I know it’s really thick and it has really small writing but it’s worth it.

Anyway onto something more lighthearted.

The World Cup. What can I say besides saying that we had good times in Germany and to lose to the eventual cheating winners in the second round was no disgrace. I’m not bitter.

We crushed England in the Ashes and a five nil whitewash looks on the cards. The silence from my English workmates has been deafening. Brilliant!

Not working for four months was sweeeeeeet mate. Though I’m back in London and I’ve depressingly swiftly assumed the old position on the treadmill pumping my little legs as fast as they will go.

A fair few of you have buggered off back home to sunny Oz or SA and I can tell you that I wish I was there as well and I do appreciate your weather updates.

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Shit! I’ll be thirty next year!

POOR DEANO!

2006-09-09T18:34:00.000+01:00

Poor Deano. Once worshipped for spewing his heart out on a hot, dusty pitch in Madras after hitting a gut wrenching 210, he’s now been sacked from his cushy commentating job after perhaps unwisely being caught on microphone saying that the South African no.4 looked like a terrorist. Mind you, Hashim Amla has a very nice beard.

Should Deano really be blamed for making such a comment? After all, he is only a victim of his environment. Once again, I blame the idiot box. Isn’t it the media who always wheel out the stock footage of bearded men firing guns every time they have a story remotely related to the Middle East.

And now for the weather. The weather in Cairo will be 45 degrees. Its going to be hot out there……..cut to bearded men firing machine guns in the air. I’ve seen it so many times that I put on sunscreen and my swimming trunks every time I see a man with a beard.

We’ve all become conditioned to the inference that bearded men are terrorists or Santa Claus depending on what time of the year it, so is it really our fault then when walking down the street and a bearded man walks past we quickly scan him for explosives? (Yes, I know some women can grow beards)

I think the real culprit is fashion not religious bigotry. Fashions change over time. Years ago, beards were all the rage sported by such luminaries as WG Grace, The Kaiser, Attila the Hun, Blackbeard, Bluebeard, Eric the Red to name but a few. The beard was once a thing of beauty to be envied, even admired. I can’t understand why they are so despised now.

One day in the not so distant apocalyptic future, beards will be back in fashion and it will be the smooth cheeked who will be gawked at and pulled aside for “random” body searches.

In anticipation for this day, I’m secretly buying up shares in every beard manufacturer in China to cash in when the facially follicly challenged like myself buy up to keep up with the fashionistas. I’ll make millions.

AS A GREAT PHILOSOPHER ONCE SAID....."I'LL BE BAAAARCK!"

2006-09-09T17:54:00.000+01:00

Forgive me father for I have sinned. It’s been two months since my last blog entry. I have not updated for a while because……well…….because I’m really just fucking bored with it. I’m surprised I kept it up for a year. It’s definitely a new record for me pushing learning piano into second place (that only lasted nine months). I guess I'll post something eventually.

THE KENT GRAND PRIX

2006-07-31T22:21:00.000+01:00

My nostrils twitched as the acrid smoke belching from the cart in front filled the air. I turned around and flipped Alex the bird while laughing maniacally. “Eat my dust asshole!” I yelled, though my visor was down and I’m not sure he heard me. I was going to win this bloody race. I wanted it. I wanted it bad. To stand on that podium and be showered in champagne. To be drenched in that sweet golden liquid…….Ah erm. Yeah I wanted to win.

I revved my engine. It felt good. I no longer feared the tank full of petrol between my legs. These days, plastic surgeons are like modern day magicians. My hands clenched on the wheel in anticipation. My heart started to pound as the adrenaline began to surge.

The grid lights flashed red…………………….then green.

I slammed my foot down hard and ran straight into the cart in front of me.

I went go-karting on the weekend. It was awesome. What made it even more enjoyable was that I only got home at 5AM and had to get up at 7AM to get to Kent. I think I was still drunk.

SHANGHAI - THE PINK LADIES!

2006-07-29T14:29:00.000+01:00

This is not a post about Grease!

Out of curiosity, I can’t help having a sneaky peek through the pink frosted glass as I walk by and they’re sitting around idly filing their nails or slurping instant noodles with the oddly detached look of the terminally bored. In the next one a girl is yawning in mid stretch, the others chit chatting away, all in bathrobes.

They‘re everywhere in Shanghai and you’ll find them next to the local convenience store, the ramshackle fruit shop, the illicit DVD store. The small shops with pink glass, candy cane hypnotically twirling in front. I’m afraid to look too long lest I’m hypnotised and find myself stumbling inside while clucking like a chicken.

Now, if you were to see a candy cane back home, your first thought would probably be “Geez I really could do with a trim” but if you were to go in you would probably be getting more than a bit off the top if you know what I mean.

Yes. They are brothels! It’s where a bloke can go for a quickie during his lunch break or to scratch an itch when heading home from the clubs. In theory, you could go in and ask for a haircut but they may look at you a bit funny. I’ve tried. I got a funny look.

The weird thing is that I’ve never actually seen anyone walk in to one of them no matter what time of day and night. It would make sense that they must have some punters otherwise why would they be open. I suspect there must be a back door with a sliding peephole manned by a tiny crinkly madam who bars entry without the secret Confucian phrase. “Man who walk sideways through airport going to Bangkok”.

Or maybe I’m just a romantic at heart.

P.S. If you are in Shanghai and tempted I heard about a bloke who got athlete’s foot on his knob. The mind boggles.

HUBBA! HUBBA!

2006-07-26T21:43:00.000+01:00

My tribute to the beautiful Asian ladies who sadly never stood a chance.....

There she is, Missa Universe

There she is, your ideal
The dreams of a million girls
Who are more than pretty
May come true in Universe City
Oh she may turn out to be
The queen of femininity
There she is, Missa Universe

There she is, your ideal
With so many beauties
She'll take the town by storm
With her all-University face and form
And there she is
Walking on air she is
Fairest of the fair she is
Missa Universe

Ed - Okay I took the Miss America song and substituted "America" with "Universe". It's still a cool song.

MISS UNIVERSE MY ASS!

2006-07-25T21:40:00.000+01:00

I’m pissed off. Absolutely spewing. Once again, Miss Universe has typically shown itself to be one of the most morally bankrupt and corrupt competitions we all know it to be. Every year we see the same “so ugly I can’t believe you could call them” women from South or Central America taking out the crown. I can’t remember the last time an Asian woman won Miss Universe and before you even try to correct me India is NOT part of Asia.

I immediately demand an inquest, a chook raffle, a recount even. I’m not a nutty conspiracy theorist. I hated Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory but a quick look over the judges reveals that seven of the eleven are men. Has anyone heard of the term sexual favours?

Taking an even closer look at the judges

Amelia Vega (Aha!!!)
Marc Cherry
Claudia Jordan
James Lesure
Bridgette Wilson-Sampras (Sampras!!!)
Maria Celeste-Arraras (Aha!!!!)
Patrick McMullan
Santino Rice (Just a surname not his food preference)
Sean Yazbeck
Emmitt Smith
Tom Green

Not one Asian amongst them and I have it on very good authority that Tom Green has a raging hard on for Latino women. I read it in a magazine I found on the Tube.

Need I say anymore………

LUV ME DRUNKEN CURRY

2006-07-23T21:53:00.000+01:00

Pri and I are drunkenly eating curry in the gutter as party people stumble by on their way home from the pubs and clubs. I ravenously shovel lamb curry it into my mouth savouring the taste and texture as you only can when you’ve had a skinful.

“Do you wanna drink?”

When I come back Pri has been joined by two guys who have sat down beside her. Gesturing with his thumb one of them asks “Is that your husband?” as I return. We laugh at the preposterousness of the idea or at least I did. Pri cackles.

Encouraged by our response he continues “You’re so beautiful. Are you a model?”

I sniggered. “Have you ever picked up with that line before, mate?” We laugh at the preposterousness of the idea or at least I did. Pri shapes to smack me one.

I WISH MY WILLIE WAS AS BIG AS HIM!

2006-07-21T17:34:00.000+01:00

Player passion. It’s something that I thought was dead and buried in the age of the sports mercenary but now and again you read an article that gives you hope that it’s not.

Big Willie has let loose with both barrels and though I may be skeptical of the timing as it could be construed as the perfect way to fire up the opposition and is also highly critical of (albeit deservedly) a fellow teammate but who gives a fuck.

I think it’s brilliant. A stroke of pure genius.

By Willie Mason

LOSING Nate Myles to Sydney Roosters on top of Roy Asotasi going to South Sydney has got me fuming. It's again a case of the Bulldogs paying for their success, and I don't think that's fair.

Let's start with Roy.

I moved to the Bulldogs in 1998, he arrived in 1999, and we have been great mates ever since. I played first grade before him but I have watched him develop into one of the best front rowers in the competition.

The Bulldogs have developed him to where he has been such a great player over the past couple of years. Now we can't afford to keep him. Yet the bottom sides like South Sydney, and those other clubs who aren't as successful, get to grab at our good players. It sucks.

Don't get me wrong.

Roy deserves the money he gets, but what can you say when a club like Souths offers you $450,000 a year and the Bulldogs can't afford to give him what he's worth.

The Rabbitohs have got all that money to spend because they've got players that are average first graders and not worth too much.

Like I said, good luck to him and I'm happy for him to go because he's got a family to look after.

But as I keep saying to him, he'd want to cherish this year because it will probably be the last finals series he plays until he retires. There's no way in the world Souths will go any good next year.

Nate's a different story and that ticks me off even more.

While I'm really upset that Roy did leave because we're great mates, he's done his time at the Dogs, he's been a great player for four or five years, and he deserves that money.

But I think Nate should have stayed because he needs to do his apprenticeship and he's gone and chased some money. You can come with excuses like you need a change or you need a starting spot but it comes down to the money.

I'd have loved to have been in his position, getting thrown $250,000 or $300,000 as a 21 year old, but I sacrificed that money to stay at the Bulldogs - and I haven't regretted it one bit.

I've won a premiership and it's made me the player I am today.

I wished Nate all the luck in the world because he is a good mate but I don't know if he is ready for the leadership role at the Roosters that comes with the responsibility of being a starting player.

The Roosters are going to put all that pressure on him by saying he's their No.1 buy and he's got to replace Adrian Morley. But Adrian Morley is irreplaceable.

He's one of the most intimidating players I have ever played against and it's a shame to lose him back to England. There's no other Adrian Morleys out there so I don't know what the Roosters are thinking with that.

It was the same for me when I was 21. I learned off players like Steve Price, Steve Reardon, Darren Britt and all those sort of older heads.

I sat behind those blokes, picked their brains, watched how they trained and that's probably made me the player I am. It's developed me into a leader. But I was no leader when I was 21 and I was in a better position than Nate was.

I don't know what can be done to help clubs like the Bulldogs retain their players. Probably raise the salary cap again? But to be honest there's probably nothing you can do.

It's a problem that won't go away. Sonny Bill Williams is off contract next year, so are Mark O'Meley and Daniel Holdsworth, there's a lot of them here at Belmore.

People are going to be throwing $600,000 or $700,000 at Sonny, $400,000 at Mark, Daniel Holdsworth has been playing some great football so he could be worth up to $300,000. It never ends.

That's just the price you pay for being successful.

Personally, I don't see what's wrong if a club wins a stack of premierships, just like the Dragons did in the 1960s.

There are not going to dynasties in the game now because the good teams just keep getting broken up every time you have a couple of good years. A couple of the good players come off contract and then they get bought.

We had an opportunity in the next four or five years to really establish ourselves in the NRL as the team that dominated the new millennium but we haven't got that chance now. Roy Asotasi was a real big part of that and so was Nate Myles and we've lost them both.

Turning to tomorrow night's clash against the Roosters, that's going to be a harder game than last Friday night's blockbuster against St George-Illawarra.

There's a confidence in the team after beating the Dragons last week that I last felt in 2004 when we won the premiership. But there's a lot of experienced players there now that know confidence isn't going to get you there.

You still have to work hard and you can't be mucking around. You've got to be switched on for every game and I think myself, Andrew Ryan, Tony Grimaldi and the rest of the senior players will be trying to drill that into everyone.

The Roosters will be tough because they've just come off a win, they're still a chance to make the eight and they're old rivals. They hate us and we hate them. If you play in a grand final and one team wins and one team loses there's always going to be rivalry.

We also need to beat them because they keep buying our players. Obviously they're trying to buy a premiership.

SHANGHAI - DRUNK

2006-07-17T19:45:00.000+01:00

Another drunken night in Shanghai.....

I WANT A JOB. I THINK!

2006-07-17T19:36:00.000+01:00

I've been looking for work. It's been so hard trying to motivate myself and at times I've found myself thinking about going home. It's at this point I slap myself and tell myself to stop being such a whinging bitch.

SUMMER SWINGERS

2006-07-15T20:02:00.000+01:00

Went to Kew Gardens to drink wine in the park, get sloshed and listen to Hootie and the Blowfish cover bands.

We were sneakily snapped by a photographer.

I’ve got to say Deshy’s photo is pretty good. It’s so good that he’s put it on his Shaadi profile (Indian marriage site). It’s working like a charm as he’s already pulled two lookers.

I on the other hand looked constipated.

BIRTHDAY OXEGEN

2006-07-09T22:23:00.000+01:00

I went to Dublin last weekend for Oxegen Festival and my birthday and froze my ass off. Geez the Irish are a friendly lot though I couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

Over the weekend I was mistaken for a DJ, a Japanese motocross rider and former Smashing Pumpkins guitarist James Iha (who is of Japanese origin). I assured all my fans that we were indeed reforming and to watch out for the new album which was going to rock!

I’ll have some pictures up soon once I get my computer back.

SHANGHAI - WILL YOU BE MY MISTRESS?

2006-07-04T21:56:00.000+01:00

With wages being very low and most things like cosmetics and Louis Vuitton bags being very expensive most women in China simply can’t afford to buy these luxuries without financial assistance.

If you’re young and pretty in Shanghai it’s most likely you have a sugar daddy who will buy these things for you. Normally he will be over forty, have his own business or be a government official and in most occasions already married. All you have to do is shag him now and again when he’s around and the rest of your time is yours. You can even, discretely of course, have younger lovers (puppy dogs) if you want.

In what is I suppose an obvious correlation the prettier you are the more extravagant the gifts become.

A prominent Taiwanese businessman has taken a liking to little Shirley. He’s already married and has two mistresses. This is what she will get if she agrees to be his “fourth” wife, an apartment in downtown Shanghai, a villa in the country, a car with driver and assistance with setting up her own business effectively setting her up for life. I can’t be too sure but I think he likes her.

As an indication of his interest he bought her a crap load of very expensive luxury cosmetics and a diamond encrusted Cartier watch with a retail value of around 120,000 RMB (Close to £9K). She told me she’s going to give it back.

If I was her I’d keep it. Dirty ole bugger!

DALIAN - LIVING NEXT DOOR TO ALICE.....

2006-07-02T01:38:00.000+01:00

A waitress at Mai Shan suggested that a bar called Alice was quite popular. I was immediately suspicious as firstly it was near the Shangri La hotel and secondly sounded like an ex-pat bar but Shirley was up for it and I wanted a change of scenery.

As I entered the first thing I noticed was that the bar was shaped like a penis. We quickly settled on a space on the shaft just below the head. This is where I met the quality controller.

He was drunk, waving hundred kwai notes in the air at the dancers on the bar. Laughing raucously as he slipped them into their panties from his seemingly unlimited supply from his little black bag. He had six local dancers lined up on the bar awaiting his largesse and to each he gave money like a catholic priest providing communion.

I knew immediately that he was Korean.

He grasped my shoulder.

“Ni pang you, piao liang” Translation “Your girlfriend is beautiful”

With my limited and stunted vocabulary I told him that I was also Korean and he instantly proclaimed me a brother. Upon telling me how beautiful Korean girls were he grabbed a dancer and kissed her on the lips. Turning to me he licked his lips.

“Bu hao chu!” Translation “Doesn’t taste good!”

I laughed. Shirley frowned.

CHENG DU - EAT, SHIT AND SLEEP!

2006-06-24T14:51:00.000+01:00

I’m all for biodiversity. Some people would even go as far as to say that I’m an animal lover. Others would say I’m a lover of animals. Heck I even had a dog once and dutifully loved it till it passed it away (RIP Tiger) but sometimes even I’m left scratching my head at the point of some species.

Mostly due to the fact I had nothing else to do I headed out to the Giant Panda Breeding Centre in Cheng Du. It’s very close to town and it’s where they do all those weird sexual experiments on these animals in order to “propagate the species”. This normally involves dressing the females in skimpy lingerie and shaving the males like poodles. I only wish it was that glamorous.

In reality panda love can be quite grubby. Normally they can’t even reproduce without human help, panda porn, vaseline and a turkey baster.

In herein lies the crux of the issue. Call me insensitive but if you can’t even fuck without the help of two guys in white lab coats then do you really deserve to continue as a viable species on this planet.

Besides being the inspiration for cheap cuddly toys manufactured by sweat shops all over China what use are they? From my thirty minute observation (about 29 mins too long) the normal panda day consists of sitting on your arse eating bamboo stalks, sleeping, sleeping and more sleeping.

If a species ever had “Extinct” stamped all over it then this has to be one of them.

P.S. Panda poo is green.

XIAN - YOU DA PLAYBOY! NO YOU DA PLAYBOY!

2006-06-21T16:21:00.000+01:00

I had heard of the terracotta warriors years ago and subsequently convinced myself that it was something that I really wanted to see. I convinced Robbins to come with me as he had never seen them himself. My reasons, I must admit were mostly selfish on my part as my Mandarin is terrible and his is fluent plus he’s also a pisshead and I wanted to party.

For some reason his girlfriend had been reluctant to let him go, especially with me. Her impression of me was that of some feckless playboy with too much time and money who would undoubtedly be a bad influence. When I asked how she had come to this conclusion, Robbins explained.

“Well mate she asked me what you were doing in China and I told her that you were doing nothing”

Thanks mate. Funnily enough that was the same reason why Shirley didn’t want me to go with you.

Any illusions that I had of doing this tour on a budget were quickly dispelled when we got there. We booked into a four star hotel. We hired our own driver who recommended the best KTV’s in town. We went to KTV (If you’re reading this Shirley I made this part up. I didn’t really go). We kicked on to a nightclub in town where another bottle was ordered. It was only the first night and I was wasted. I have fragmented memories of that night. Telling Robbins for the twentieth time how good the complimentary spicy crackers were, sculling drinks with the club manager, leaning out of the taxi in the Muslim quarter to compliment a local on his fez-like hat while giving him the thumbs up as we zipped by. I think he smiled.

BEIJING - IT'S FUN TO STAY AT THE YMCA?

2006-06-21T15:46:00.000+01:00

Sanlitun is chock full of bars with bands playing cheesy eighties ballads and Chinese love songs, annoying touts and skimpily dressed bar girls. Yorky specifically disliked being hassled by the touts who would go as far as following you up the length of the street in order to get your patronage.

“If you don’t like getting hassled, just tell them you’re gay mate and they’ll leave you alone” Yorky looked unconvinced preferring a more confrontational approach which usually involved him telling them to fuck off.

“Look I’ll show you” I made eye contact with the closest tout.

“You want pretty girls? You come to my bar” he smiled sensing a potential commission.

“No mate, I only like guys, You have guys? Maybe somebody who look like you?” He took a step back involuntarily, suddenly uncertain.

“You no like girls?” he questioned. Shaking his head he smiled, turned around and walked away.

I was only slightly concerned at how easily he believed me.

I THINK I'M TURNING JAPANESE! I REALLY THINK SO!

2006-06-16T10:18:00.000+01:00

It’s my fault and I really should of known better. Next time I will drape myself in yellow/gold from head to toe to avoid having to listen to any commiserating words other aussies may have to offer.

“Too bad you lost, mate!” they drawl as they drape a comforting arm over my shoulders.

“Yeah I’m really fucking pissed off we went down today, cobber!” I reply in the broadest bogan aussie accent I can muster.

“Yeah maybe next time, eh” they reply.

Or my personal favourite.

“Are you a jap?” Well at least they didn’t say nip.

Hopefully, Australia will never declare war on Korea because that space between my shoulder blades may prove too tempting a target.

C'MON AUSSIE! C'MON!

2006-06-14T19:53:00.000+01:00

Not many sporting events can generate as much excitement or inflame old rivalries like the World Cup. I flew into Frankfurt to catch the first game and I can’t wait to go back.

Australia v Japan – Fritz Walter Stadion in Kaiserslautern

Proud. 1 min. I’m running late and am still climbing the stairs into the stadium as the Aussie national anthem begins to play and the roar from ten thousand Aussies washes over me. I start to run.

Hope. 10 min. The Aussie crowd is in full song, singing Aussie words to English tunes. The Japanese are a dark blue ocean threatening to swallow up pockets of gold. Viduka is holding up the ball masterfully.

Injustice. 26 min 1-0. An early goal to the Japanese has stunned us. Shwaurzer weakly flaps at the ball as he is hammered by the opposition and the goal is given. Japanese joy is instantaneous. Kewell looks unfit and out of form.

Despair. 75 min. Players stumble around the field like drunken sailors, wilting under the hot sun. The minutes slowly tick by as we sit hoping for what seems impossible an equalising goal but someone must be listening to our prayers.

Relief. 84 min 1-1. It could have been God or perhaps Guus is a chubby little angel but one substitution changes everything. Cahill galvanises the team and the scrambled goal when it comes sparks us into joyous celebration. Both teams know that only victory will do and the game sputters back into life.

Disbelief. 89 min 2-1. The ball ricochets off one post into the other and into goal and incredibly we have the lead. Arms raised Cahill wheels away from goal.

Pure unadulterated jubilation. 90 + 3 min 3-1. The boys and I hug as we jump around like mad men for the third and final time as Aloisi slots it past the keeper. Japan is beaten.

I'M BAAAAACCKK!

2006-06-11T09:00:00.000+01:00

Got back from China last night. Blame the lack of updating on the Chinese government. Now that I'm back in the UK I can write away to my hearts content. I'll provide a synopsis of my last three months with pictures.

THE LEBANESE CAMPESE

2006-04-01T19:39:00.000+01:00

If I had an AK-47 I’d be celebrating Taliban style by indiscriminately firing it in the air, singing “ayi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!” while hopping from foot to foot as an expression of my joy at Hazem El-Masri’s thirty four points against the Tigers. Over the last 10 years, the boy from Tripoli has matured into a grizzled NRL veteran. What makes him stand out from the riff raff are not any obvious physical traits. He isn’t blessed with towering height, lightning pace or ogre like strength but it’s the speed between the ears which puts him above the others. The man with the magic boot and twinkle toes. He pirouettes across the field like an adamantly heterosexual ballet dancer leaving the opposition grasping thin air in his wake while booting the pigskin through the posts from all over the park with his unerring right boot.

THE WEDDING

2006-03-25T19:34:00.000Z

A bloke I work with was incredibly kind enough to invite me to his wedding on Saturday, which was the day I flew out of London so everything was incredibly rushed.

It was my first Hindu wedding, though I had always hoped that Desh’s wedding would be the first one I would ever go to but I can’t wait forever can I?

It was great seeing Bhavin in his get up (I apologise about my comment about the fancy dress party thing. It was a joke) and all his friends and relatives getting fired up with dance and song. The bewildered looks of the English golfers strolling across to the 13th hole was quite amusing.

The priest or Maharaji was bloody good. His style screamed Baby John Burgess and his hypnotic chanting was not unlike an auctioneer at the yearling sales. The difference being he was marrying off two very lovely people who are very much in love and not selling horses to Arab Sheiks for the sport of kings. (Dunno where I was going with that)

The three hour ceremony was chock full of symbolism which I must admit went entirely over my head. You know that romantic stuff. Taking seven steps and seven vows, walking round a fire four times while having stuff thrown at you. That’s all I got.

The food served at lunch was magnificent and being Gujarati it was all vegetarian. If all my food tasted like that, I would also forgo that dirty, cholesterol filled worm-infested meat in a heartbeat. If there are any Gujarati women out there looking for love and a man with a stomach please email me. Alternatively, if anyone knows a good restaurant in Shanghai if they, could email me as well it would be much appreciated.

My only regret is not being able to go the reception for the hoe down and THE FOOD (Oh my God the food!) and not being able to thank Bhavin for the invite personally as I had to high tail it to Heathrow to catch my flight. Good luck mate.

THE PUNTERS

2006-03-24T19:30:00.000Z

I’ve got to say that the boys did a sterling job of making sure I got to Browns for my last shindig. Before the night was over I found myself swaying in front of the podium with a half drunk scotch in my hand wondering what the hell I was doing there while also debating whether to hurl or not. Anyway, three dancers later we were gone. It was a largely unsatisfying experience but it HAD to be done. Tradition is a bitch. When I’m in these types of establishments (It’s in Shoreditch if anyone’s interested) for some bizarre reason I always find myself looking at the punters as opposed to the ladies on stage. It’s like going to the football and watching the crowd instead. Maybe I’ve been going to too many Fulham games.

The Leaner

Despite of or probably because of the no touching policy enforced by the 7 foot tall black guy. This fella will lean over the railing trying to get the closest look at the stripper’s bits as possible without physically touching her. He plays a very dangerous game.

The Snake Charmee

This guy is seemingly hypnotised by the stripper’s crotch. The problem is even worse in Thailand where the girls can actually play the flute.

The Warhorse

The grizzled veteran of many a strip bar. It no longer titillates him and he now only goes out of habit. He’s the saddest man there.

The Camper

Everytime you go there, he’s there. Mind you, he’s probably thinking the same thing about you.

The Geezer (specific to the UK)

Boys from Essex. Suited and booted. Nuff said.

The Ethnic

I love these guys. They have just come from India and it’s the first time they’ve seen a naked white lady or perhaps any lady. Their reactions are reminiscent of Eddie Murphy in “Coming to America”. A huge shit eating grin followed by “I luv America!”

The Japanese Businessman

I often get mistaken for this fella. The JB is assumed to be a pervert and to have serious money (A stripper’s delight). My only problem with this is that I’m not Japanese.

The Invisible Man

The bloke you go with who suddenly disappears because of one of the following reasons and usually for both of them.

He’s been paying for private show after private show because he enjoys the extra intimacy (haha)

He’s been kicked out for touching.

THE FAREWELL

2006-03-23T19:26:00.000Z

This made me piss my pants the other night at my farewell drinks.

Peers came out of the toilets shaking his head and ashen faced as if he’d just seen the loch ness monster.

“Dubya has a massive tool. It’s ginormous!” he announced.

“What the hell are you going about P?”

“I’m in the men’s taking a piss when I hear Dubya come in. He goes into a cubicle changes his mind and saunters over to the urinal two down from mine. He pulls his todger out and holds it in his hand. Looks across to me and says “Have you seen one like that before?” He moves over too the urinal next to mine and says “Go on then, have a closer look”.

“It was enormous! I feel thoroughly inadequate”

I'M A VEGETABLE!

2006-03-13T22:17:00.000Z

Today I am a vegetable. Possibly an over ripe banana. Okay that’s a fruit. Yellow on the outside and mushy on the inside. I had a massive Saturday night which has unfortunately left me in a partly vegetative state. All I am able to do is suck food through a straw and blink yes or no answers to monosyllabic questions.

Let’s recap what happened. I had a few drinks at Beach Blanket Babylon in Notting Hill for Britney’s birthday and all I can say is wowser! It comes complete with a greasy haired maitre de who greets you at the door with a hearty “good evening” in an outrageous french accent and incredibly stunning waitresses who have probably never heard the phrase minimum wage in their entire lives. Despite the boner value it’s a little too pretentious for my liking.

Off to Notting Hill Arts Club. This place is really fucking cool and we boogied away to classic rock and reggae. Congratulations to Britney on remaining standing at the end of the night despite the obligatory alcoholic torture one is usually put through on their birthday.

Not content with the queasy feeling in my stomach or the dry retching it was off to Camoflauge in town. It was shit. I had clearly been lied to by the fellas. Full of students and even more students. Time to stumble home.

LEST WE FORGET BAMBI'S MUM!

2006-03-09T22:46:00.000Z

There’s this incredible new show on the BBC on Sunday night’s called Planet Earth. It’s packed with incredible footage of deer migrations over the frozen arctic tundra, elephant herds roaming the african Serengeti and even little bunny rabbits doing bunny things. I love watching them as they remind me of the constant struggle between life and death that takes place in the world we live in.

Despite how many times I’ve watched nature documentaries and witnessed the horrible inevitable conclusion of when a big animal with sharp fangs and claws chases after a smaller animal with big brown eyes and soft fur I just cant help rooting for the little fella. The fluffy bunny, the Bambi like fawn and the Dumbo lookalike. This usually leads to the following conversation. “I bet you a fiver he gets away” as the lion stealthily approaches the herd of antelope. My mate snorts “You’re on!” and before I know it I’m handing over a fiver as the lion rips an antelope into a thousand bloody pieces.

I’ve got to stop gambling while watching nature shows or at least bet on the lion.

BILLY GOATS!

2006-03-04T08:59:00.000Z

Okay I didn’t really want to have to comment on this but I feel that I must due to the unwarranted levels of conjecture and rumour mongering. It was a guy in Sudan that married a goat. It wasn’t me though I do thank you for the many messages of congratulations.

I don’t know about you but I feel sort of sorry for the guy. I’m sure it wasn’t his fault. Loneliness with a touch of Sudanese moonshine (that stuff is potent) mixed with three teaspoons of temptation would have been more than enough to warp his concept of socially acceptable behaviour. Some people blame the devil. Some people blame the education system and others blame carbonated drinks with high sugar levels. I like to think its much more sinister than that. I blame the animals. Their big brown eyes, their soft curly fur……erhm I digress.

All animals should be culled at this instant. A world wide genetic breeding programme should be immediately put in place to create Dr Dolittle style Pushmepullyou versions of all the animals in the world or maybe just the cute ones. I’m pretty certain nobody’s ever tried to hump a lion.

Imagine it. Two headed ducks, two headed sheep, two headed cattle and more importantly two headed goats. As far as I could tell despite watching Dr Dolittle at least twenty times Pushmepullyous do not have any obvious orifices. This would guarantee an immediate drop in bestiality across the world and thus hopefully negating the need for the BBC from printing this type of garbage ever again. Is this really newsworthy? Don’t forget the the environmental benefits. Less orifices mean less methane gas which means no global warming.

Too quote a infamous pop star “Billie Jean. Let’s do it cause I believe the children are our future”

DOTSOKU!

2006-02-28T20:17:00.000Z

I hate Sudoku. Everywhere I look I see smarmy intellectual types with foreheads crinkled in thought, chewing on pens as they do Sudoku on the tube, on the bus or at the supermarket. Notice the use of do as to the other verb play which would imply some sort of enjoyment. It’s reached pandemic proportions as it infects thousands of people all over Britain every day.

Why can’t we see it’s a nefarious practical joke by the Japanese? Hey let’s give primary school arithmetic a catchy Japanese name and sell it to the West. Then when they are all too busy doing their Sudoku we will make affordable good quality electronics (evil man laughs maniacally).

Anyway what ever happened to good old connect the dots. I miss those simpler days where all you would have is your pencil and just in case you made a mistake an eraser but the beauty of the game was that even though you sort of knew what the picture was you were never really that sure until you had connected the last dot. Oh look it’s a can of beans!

Connect the dots has been around for donkey’s years for good reason. The ancient Greeks used connect the dot theory to come up with the constellations. (In Ancient Greek) Oh look Archimedes, it’s a Capricorn!

It’s time to get them back for Sudoku. It’s time to revamp connect the dots with a catchy Japanese name and really challenging dot pictures of Mount Fuji. It’s time for Dotsoku!

JOKES

2006-02-21T20:18:00.000Z

I’m horrible at telling them and even more horrible at writing them but I have a sure fire way of writing a winner.

There was a Rabbi, Priest and the Dalai Lama sitting in a………..

Potential punchlines

Something about Jewish people being tight with money, something about priests molesting small boys or something about the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1950 and subsequent cultural genocide that still goes on to this day.

or

There was a Japanese guy, English guy and Australian guy standing in a…………

Potential punchlines

Something about an inability to pronounce their r’s and l’s properly (supplies!), something about bad teeth and mad dogs or something about the betrayal of young stupid Australians by our federal police force that has led to life imprisonment or the death penalty for these young stupid Australians or how Jackboot Johnny Howard doesn’t like Muslims.

See you can’t go wrong.

GOOD READING!

2006-02-21T20:14:00.000Z

When I’m bored at home I’ll surf around in a desperate attempt to find something decent to read which is surprisingly or maybe not surprisingly very difficult to find on the internet. There is so much dross floating around and it’s pretty rare to find somebody with something intelligent to say and it’s not just because he uses lots of really big words that make me appreciate my dictionary. His blog does deal with far more important issues than mine like race, identity and sexual inequality (admittedly that wouldn’t be very hard as my blog deals with very important issues like public drunkenness in foreign countries and cat jokes and that’s pretty much it). I found his articles on a typical Korean’s racial awareness and racial stereotyping particularly interesting and perhaps a little shocking but not as scary as the idea that one in ten Korean women may work in the sex industry (scratch Korea for future bride. Maybe Thailand?). Just ignore the most recent entry about his pussies though I’m sure he loves them very much (sorry another cat joke. Blame British comedy).

http://metropolitician.blogs.com/

SPANKING THE SEA MONKEYS

2006-02-21T20:12:00.000Z

I have a confession to make. After years of hearing references to sea monkeys on American TV and movies to this day I have erroneously believed that this was an American euphemism for ejaculate. After thinking about this logically I realised that selling sperm to kids is probably illegal in most countries and plus not very educational nor fun for the kiddies. So what is a sea monkey? It’s brine shrimp. Whale food. Well fancy that.

TONY THE PSYCHIC

2006-02-20T21:10:00.000Z

A few months ago I was wandering through Greenwich after Sandy had promised me a free dinner for carrying back some of her shopping from Shanghai. In the end it turned out to be shoes and odd bits of clothes but a small part of me was hoping it wasn’t a brick of grade A Afghani skunk and I momentarily had panicked visions of being hauled away by the Chinese police and rotting away in a cell for thirty years (Just kidding Sandy!)

As we were walking to the restaurant we were accosted by this extremely persistent lady who was looking for volunteers to sit in the audience for the recording of a television show for the Canadian Discovery channel in which a psychic’s mental abilities would be tested. I thought why not and cajoled Sandy up the stairs.

Once inside a professor (to be referred to as The Professor) began to describe the tasks that Tony would be asked to perform. The first test. A “volunteer” was going to select a single word from one of three books. Tony was then going to attempt to read the volunteer’s mind to correctly guess that word. The second test. Tony would attempt to bend a real nail using his magic brain powers. The final test. Finally he would be asked to reconstruct a picture drawn by a volunteer. This was the surprise test that he didn’t know about. I almost “oohed!” in anticipation.

For some reason I had expected and old man with a flowing white beard, purple robes and a pointy hat. So yes someone resembling Merlin the Magician. I was disappointed. Tony was a non-descript looking man in his early forties in a neat dark suit, really only noticeable if you’d tripped over his briefcase as you got off the Tube to work. Scratch one preconception Hippy = Psychic.

“Are you ready Tony?” The Professor began. Tony was a picture of cool, calm and collected as he replied. “Yes I am”

To increase the level of difficulty I began to project the word “tosser” towards him in an attempt to deflect the volunteer’s brain waves and have Tony embarrassingly utter it when he had to guess the word.

“Is there an S?” “Yes” Okay good start. Keep concentrating.

“Is there a T?” “Yes” Woohoo!

“Is there an R?” “Yes” Am I really doing this? Focus brain energy.

“Is there an E?” At this point in time I was starting to believe that I may indeed have some sort of psychic ability.

“Is there a V?” “No” Shit!

“Is it revolutions?” ”Yes”

I turned to Sandy quizzically as the camera panned across the audience to capture stunned silence.

“It’s time for the second test” The Professor handing the next volunteer, the lovely Charlie (she was really hot!) a nail.

Tony looked constipated. His face twisted and contorted with the effort of bending metal with his mind and beads of sweat began to form on his brow as he moved his hands around Charlie’s cupped hands.

“Can you feel anything moving?” I know I could.

“Yes it’s getting really hot” she squealed. It was getting kind of warm in there.

“Okay Charlie you can show us the nail now”

Charlie slowly opened her hands and lo and behold the nail was indeed bent as it lay gently shimmering in Charlie’s lovely hands. I was as flabbergasted as the heathens who had witnessed Jesus turn water into wine. I shook my head in disbelief.

To cut a long story short Tony did manage to recreate the picture that had been sealed in the envelope and my early skepticism had definitely begun to waver until they told us that it was all set up and it was really about the power of suggestion. I learnt a very important lesson. Damn I’m a gullible fuck.

So you may see me on Canadian Discovery channel. Just in case you don’t know I’m the Asian guy in the front with the slightly bewildered look on his face that screams “What the fuck just happened?”

SOMETHING I LEARNT FROM TV TODAY

2006-02-19T22:57:00.000Z

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. The phrase apparently originated in World War 2 when soldiers would require a “chit” to go into town to visit the ladies of the night. Hence the phrase Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I can’t wait for next Anzac Day. I’m going to hire out the local cinema and sell tickets to the Dick Van Dyke classic down at the returned serviceman’s club. I’ll make a killing though there may be some slightly disappointed veterans.

CURLING - THE SPORT OF HAIRDRESSERS

2006-02-18T13:46:00.000Z

I’m currently slumped over my couch after a long night of playing texas hold em with the boys where I only ended up five quid down after which I cashed out due to terminal boredom. I’ve been channel surfing and have astonishingly found myself totally transfixed by curling. Its like lawn bowls on ice. It combines the extremely practical skill of sweeping with the not so practical skill of sliding a stone across ice.

I wonder about how these sports first originated as often it’s not so clear cut as something like javelin or the marathon so I did some research on the internet. Curling was invented by the Vikings. After a hard month’s raping and pillaging up and down the English coastline they liked nothing better than to relax by the fjords of Scandinavia with a good old game of curling. It was designed for the surprisingly cuckolded Viking men to practice their homemaking skills by the even larger Viking ladies. The stone replaced the traditional heads that were first used in the early 1900s when decapitation became socially unacceptable.

After watching it for an hour I was still baffled as to what was going on but totally agreed with the commentators about the Italian’s tactical naivety being their undoing and surprised about the Japanese’s adeptness at this sport though of course they are a very fastidious people.

A LITTLE ENGINE THAT COULD..........

2006-02-07T20:38:00.000Z

The lessons I learnt from watching cartoons as a kid pretty much defined who I am today (I must also acknowledge Aesop’s Fables as another important contributor). One of my fondest memories are of watching “The little engine that could” as he chugged and chugged up that mountain side racked with self doubt but eventually overcoming them in a burst of steam and coal dust.

The most important lesson it taught me was about persistence. How important it is to be persistent and pursue your goals no matter what stands in your way.

A perfect example is my mate who I will call Cousin Ryan. We used to rib him incessantly about this girl who would always show up to the pub uninvited, call his home and talk to his mother and would just generally be there. It was pretty freaky after a while. Recently I heard that they are now going out. Now she had a clear strategy and eventually wore him down with her persistence. She hung in there and hung in there until not unlike “The little engine that could” she overcame his initial reluctance in a burst of steam and coal dust.

Toot! Toot!

I'VE BEEN DEFILED!

2006-02-03T20:34:00.000Z

It finally happened to me. I was numb from shock. The trust that had been built over two and a half years was shattered in a moment of madness. I spent hours in the shower, foetus like scrubbing away the hurt longing for the protection of my mother’s womb.

Yes you guessed it. Some bastard skimmed 870 quid from my bank account. The fuckers cloned my card. Can someone tell me when the human race made this particular technological break through? I knew that we could clone sheep and maybe the odd two headed baby but chip and pin cards?

Luckily for me it was at the end of the pay cycle when I desperately struggle to rub two pennies together and avoid the first round at the pub like I avoid exercise and vegetables but unluckily I have a 500 quid overdraft which I imagine they spent with glee. How you manage to spend that much money at Boots I will never know. It’s impossible. I’ve tried and failed miserably.

What I would spend £870 on at Boots.

50 jars of VO5 Fibre Putty (hair product) £150
A pack of condoms £4 (you never know when you might get lucky)
A four pack of Mach 3 razors £10 (that should last me a year or two)
Moisturiser £5 (It’s totally acceptable for blokes to use this stuff)

Total Expenditure at Boots £169

It just doesn’t add up.

FREE AT LAST! FREE AT LAST! THANK GOD ALMIGHTY! WE ARE FREE AT LAST!

2006-02-01T21:21:00.000Z

I dont think the Dead Kennedy's could express it more clearly. I quit!

Chorus: Take this job and shove it / I ain't working here no more / I will not get all the pieces / I've been working for / Paper cups, minimum wage / Just walk on out the door / Take this job and shove it / I ain't working here no more / (Chorus) / They'll have you in this factory / From now on for fifty years / All this time I see my woman / Drowning in her tears / I see a lot of people who / Got to have a piece of me / I'd give the shirt right off my back / If I had the nerve to say / (Chorus) / Let's all go use our sick leave up / And then we'll shoot some pool / Got brand new skinhead hair cuts / You think he's a fool / One of these days I'll blow my top / Or somebody's gonna pay / I'd hate to see the process / As you enter the factory and say / Take this job and shove it / I ain't working here no more / I won't let that shit bother me / That I've been working for / Paper cups, minimum wage / Just walk on out the door / Take this job and shove it / I ain't working here no more / Take this job and shove it / I ain't working here, ain't working here, ain't working here no more

Okay maybe just little over the top.

FIREWORKS

2006-01-31T21:17:00.000Z

I had expected a fireworks extravaganza along the river. During my 12 hour flight from London I had feverishly imagined an explosion of light and sound rippling along the shoreline slowly climaxing to a crescendo of fireworks shaped like a small Pekinese in honour of the Year of the Dog.

Reality

Shanghai crackled like Baghdad in May. As I raced by in my taxi through Shanghai’s empty streets, locals crept furtively amongst the shadows of the unlit streets like insurgents carefully placing their crackers on the road before slipping back into the safety of darkness to watch their handiwork.

The moral of the story is if you want good luck blow some shit up in Shanghai and if you want to see a spectacular fireworks display go to Sydney.

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!

2006-01-29T21:10:00.000Z

Shanghai is virtually a ghost town. It’s deserted. Everyone has gone home to their respective cities and towns for Chinese New Years. Robbins had booked a private room at the Flamingo for his mates. It was kind of surreal dancing with the club owners in this empty club to the DJ pumping out the house tunes. Managed to catch up with Yorky who was kind enough to ditch his relatives to come down and have a drink with me.

IT'S QUITTIN' TIME!

2006-01-23T18:49:00.000Z

That’s it! I’ve had enough. I’m legging it. I’m going to officially quit the bank at the end of this month. Plan is to get to the HK Sevens in March and get shit faced and then I’m off to China for two months to get shit faced. Look forward to exciting blog updates such as “The World’s Biggest Chinatown in China”, “The Little Rickshaw that could”, “Xiao Jie is not a Dirty Word”. Oh and I assure you that there will be plenty of navel gazing.

THE BUFFALO THEORY!

2006-01-22T17:02:00.000Z

If you can't be bothered writing anything yourself. Just paste in an email.

(In an episode of 'Cheers', Cliff is seated at the bar describing the Buffalo Theory to his buddy, Norm.)

"Well you see, Norm, It's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members.

In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster more efficient machine. And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers."

DE DOLLE DULLE TEVE 10º (MAD BITCH)

2006-01-15T13:49:00.000Z

Legend has it that it was first brewed in the early 1700's by alcoholic Trappist eunuch monks who ran an insane asylum for mentally unhinged women. Due to it’s high alcohol content it was reputedly used to sedate those who were lucky enough to be committed there. It was also a very handy disinfectant.

Apparently the monestary had a very talented men's choir.

AHNISMS

2006-01-11T21:09:00.000Z

Like my good friend Dubya Bush who is well known for engaging his mouth before his brain. My good friend Anh is well known for saying inappropriate things at inopportune times. The difference is that she actually means what she says.

"How did you win Miss Vietnam. You’re not even very pretty" she exclaims as the winner walks by.

"You know when I first met you I thought you were one of those Chinese weirdos but you’re actually okay". Five minutes later. "Say my name bitch!" to a slightly bewildered Taiwanese girl.

"That’s why I suck white man’s cock!" she screams at the Vietnamese Students Charity Event. If there was context I would of provided it.

Keep truckin’ girlfriend.

DANCING SCOOTER!

2006-01-07T20:59:00.000Z

Footage of Scooter boot scootin' his way across Oktoberfest. I haven't been able to figure how you embed these bloody things so you'll have to make do with the link.

http://www.youtube.com/w/?v=uAhO762BFyk

I'M DREAMING OF A NOT SO WHITE CHRISTMAS

2006-01-05T20:41:00.000Z

I had agreed to go to a christmas ball where the theme was black tie and oriental. It was interesting to say the least. I’ll take any chance to get the Kelly Country tux out for a run and promptly asked my mother to send it out to me. Unfortunately it didn’t get here in time and perhaps when I think about it, it probably wasn’t very cost effective to send an $80 polyester/wool mix tux to England (but thanks for the Tim Tams Mum).

I asked Hodges to come along as I know he loves a good buffet i.e. he has the fever bad. My night was looking up when I showed up and found that I was seated on a table full of girls. Woohoo! Not long after, I was moved to another table. I was absolutely spewing. Besides that my highlight was the red vomit on the dance floor and the blithering mess who had created it.

Sandy after sucking a lemon

NEW YEARS EVE 2005

2006-01-03T13:40:00.000Z

Trekked across London from the West Side to the East Side to a chinese restaurant in the Docklands then back across to Clapham for a bit of Norman Jay at the Grand. Hannibal from the A-Team couldn't have pulled it off. I love it when a plan comes together.

Video of New Years Eve festivities.

http://www.youtube.com/?v=9pC1eXS3grw

TINTIN WAS BELGIAN?

2006-01-02T17:24:00.000Z

Nothing like a trip down memory lane and amnesia cul-de-sac to bring a tear to your eye. I had no idea that Tintin was Belgian.

http://www.tintin.com/

Irrefutable proof

THE ONLY PHOTO I TOOK IN SHANGHAI!

2006-01-02T17:05:00.000Z

This is pretty much the only photo I took in Shanghai over Christmas. It's from the Oriental Pearl Tower on the banks of the murky Huangpu River. It sort of looks like a massive syringe or a penis with a needle sticking out of it. Depends on who you ask I suppose. The view was pretty much the same no matter where you looked hence the one photo. Just buildings and skyscrapers as far as the eye can see.

SHANGHAI DELIGHTS. NOTHING LIKE TURKISH DELIGHTS.

2005-12-30T16:36:00.000Z

Shanghai by day is like a washed out grainy photo. Everything has a sepia like tinge. The sun glows weakly across the city through the haze of chemicals. It’s only at night when Shanghai comes alive when the neon lights flash, gaudily flashing their wares to all and sundry and when I come out to play.

I’m excited to be back. My existence in town is vampire like. Clubbing by night and sleeping by day. Cultural enrichment or knowledge is spurned for Shanghai’s more tangible delights.

We hit Bon Bon. It looks like a cubist’s wet dream but the music is good and I’m in a dancing mood. I’m wasted and I drunkenly shout out show us yer tits in jest to these girls with droopy cow eyes. To my delight they understand what I say and Eugs and I piss our selves laughing. Standing up is tricky when Robbins is around.

It’s Christmas Eve. Fabrique. I meet Shirley. She’s just broken up with her boyfriend who owns the club and needs a sympathetic ear. In my state all I can do is listen. She’s cute as a button and the girl can really dance.

Christmas Day. It’s only appropriate I treat the boys to a night at KTV. It’s an institution in Asia. Where business and pleasure mix as freely as scotch and green tea. We convince one of the girls to take us for a tour of the place. In a freakish sober moment it feels dirty just being there. I learn yet another Chinese drinking game.

Laris. I’ve just had the best veal of my life and am sipping a sauvignon blanc from back home. The Pudong skyline lights up the night through the window and I wonder why the fuck I’m going home.

Off to Babyface 2. Dan is accosted by a thirty something year old woman in a zebra print top. She tries to get him to play dice games but he won’t have any of it. She tries giving him popcorn with her mouth. He refuses. Eugs shakes his head, Brian says no. I feel sorry for her so I have a go. Charity begins at home or so my mother always says.

Oops. I’ve missed my flight and the next one is in two days.

Shirley asks me how many clubs I’ve been to in Shanghai and funnily enough I think I’ve almost been to all of them. I feel a strange sense of accomplishment but don’t know why.

Windows in Jing An. Hip hop mayhem. Cheapest drinks in town and the crowd is scarily young.

As always my last night in Shangers is tinged with regret. Shit!

BIRDS DO IT BEES DO IT, EVEN EDUCATED FLEAS DO IT....

2005-12-29T08:32:00.000Z

I guess even horseshoe crabs do it........fall in love that is.

Rusty Griswold: [watching the romantic couple make out at the table] Dad he's grabbing her tits right there at the table!
Clark Griswold: Just eat your breakfast, Russ.
Rusty Griswold: [Rusty still watching the couple] ... Dad, I think he's gonna pork her.
Clark Griswold: He's not gonna pork her, Russ.
Rusty Griswold: I think he's gonna.
Clark Griswold: He may pork her, finish your breakfast.

Courtesy of Shanghai Aquarium.

KAREOKE LOVE!

2005-12-23T00:04:00.000Z

It's 4.30AM. You've just stumbled out of some nightclub and you've had a skin full of piss. It's only natural that you should go somewhere to subject others to your rancid singing.

Please Eugs. I beg you. No more Me and Mrs. Jones, we got a thing going on, We both know that it's wrong But it's much too strong to let it cool down now........................

To animal activists out there. Belle assures me that yes indeed that is Arctic Fox she is wearing.

A CHRISTMAS MESSAGE FROM ME!

2005-12-21T23:02:00.000Z

My Christmas Message this year is addressed especially to families. At the end of this year particularly dedicated to them, our thoughts return there, to the mystery of the Holy Family, from which the celebration began.

The Papal Legate will go once again to Nazareth, on the Feast of the Holy Family, to conclude solemnly this Year in the place sanctified by the humble and hardworking presence of Mary, Joseph and Jesus.

With this Message, I would like to call to mind what I said to the families of the world last February in the special Letter addressed to them. I wish to give thanks for all the fruits which the Year of the Family has produced in the individual Ecclesial Communities and the countries of every continent. Countless initiatives have been promoted during these months on behalf of the family, and the crowning of these took place in the unforgettable gathering of families from all over the world here, in this Square, on 8 and 9 October last. With great joy we celebrated then that great feast in which the family……………….snnnnnnooooooooooooorrrrrreeeeeeee!

Can I go on or what? Obviously Christmas can be a time for family and an opportunity for reflection and introspection for some (refer above). For others it’s just a few days off and bloody good piss up. I’m of the latter (That’s the piss up one in case I got that wrong).

When I think about it, it’s been a really good year. I’ve been all over the place and met plenty of new people. So to all friends old and new I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Wish you all the best for 2006.

Hopefully Santa will have brought me a 15 day World Cup tour with Frank Farina and Robbie Slater and some nicotine patches.

P.S. I’m off to Shangers for Christmas communist style. Hey Eugs! Crack open the Chivas it’s time to party.

BEST TEXT OF 2006!

2005-12-20T22:03:00.000Z

Best text I've received all year. I don’t know why I find this so amusing but I do. Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

"chuckin peanuts at dasco in ktv watching him cop head"

ASSIMILATE! ASSIMILATE!

2005-12-11T22:38:00.000Z

Once again Australia’s reputation as a fair, tolerant nation is being dragged over the hot coals of international opinion after last weekend’s fracas in Sydney. Not only do we not like Aborigines but you can add Lebs and Wogs to that list as well.

The main complaint seems to be that immigrants just aren’t assimilating. I suppose that begs the question when are you considered to be a real Australian and if you haven’t yet assimilated how do we go about it. Is there a book I can buy? Well punters I’m afraid there’s only one road to assimilation and it’s paved in gold. Olympic Gold! You know you’ve made it as an Australian if you have represented Australia in sport. Once you’ve won who cares if you were previously part of a murderous government regime, a nazi (admittedly you would probably be too old to compete in the Olympics now but there is the Masters Olympics for geriatrics) or used to torture bunny rabbits for fun. We certainly won’t.

Migrant communities need to look to their strengths and encourage their children to take up the appropriate sports to win gold for Australia. Peoples from war stricken countries should be encouraged to take up shooting. Who needs a good education or job prospects when one day you could have your face on a box of WeetBix (or do I dare to dream Nutragrain) like Michael Diamond. If you want to go to university though I couldn’t imagine why, go there on a rugby scholarship like a normal person.

Boat people should be taking up sailing. If you can sail a leaking, disintegrating boat with fifty of your relatives across the Indian Ocean then sailing Australia III in the America’s Cup should be a piece of piss. Bugger John Bertrand we want Billy Nguyen.

Even I’m getting in on the act. My kids will be actively fed a strict diet of badminton, ping pong and archery from when they can walk. They will also only be taught those three words so that they will not be distracted by anything else in the pursuit for gold.

Migrants from Eastern Europe should take up weightlifting or other power based sports. Oops we’ve already been importing these guys in for years. As a nation we could double if not triple the number of medals we win at the next Olympics. Let’s stop giving out citizenships based on boring economic reasons and base our assessments purely on sporting ability. Think about it, boxers from Cuba, bobsledders from Jamaica, long distance runners from Kenya, ping pong players from Holland. The possibilities are endless. It will be only when politicians finally see sense and align our immigration laws to our Olympic goals that racial harmony will be achieved in our lifetime and we’ll finally beat those bloody yanks!

Let’s stop playing the blame game. Who cares who started what or why they did what they did. I don’t give a damn. If you’re dumb enough to beat people up while being filmed on camera then you deserve to go to jail for gross stupidity.

PS. I was going to encourage Indians to play cricket but that’s kind of pointless really.

10 THINGS I DID IN BRUGGE!

2005-12-05T20:43:00.000Z

Brugge was beautiful, a picture perfect town where day and night packs of tourists roam freely hunting in packs for lace, chocolate, beer and Tin Tin related paraphernalia. Yes I went to Belgium on the weekend for Barton’s Goodbye Europe Tour 2005.

10. Went to the Tin Tin shop. Blistering barnacles! I had totally forgotten that Belgium was the home of Tin Tin. Ah getting all nostalgic now. Did you read the one where Tin Tin and Snowy got into all that trouble in Nepal and the Thompson twins got arrested and………
9. Ate Italian food all weekend. Yes I could’ve had mussels but didn’t feel like it.
8. I took pictures of old decrepit things – old people, really old buildings, the nightlife
7. Missed our train back to London and had to shell out for another return fare. It’s a tough choice between going back and throwing away 50 quid. I’m throwing it away.
6. Played a mystifying game involving a piece of wood, hammer and nails while drunk.
5. Went to the pub with three hundred beers. Try the Mad Bitch beer. Barton didn’t like it as it was too chewy. 10% beers usually are.
4. Smelt a hostel room after 5 blokes reeking of piss have passed out in it. It reeked!
3. Threw up in Charlie Rocket’s. At least I made it to the bathroom. For other’s the bedding was appropriate. Sweet apple shots and tequila after the train ride did it for me.
2. Got drunk on the Eurostar going to Brussels.

And the number one………

1. Took photo of ambiguous stain on Desh’s bed. I think he may of had an accident. There’s still plenty of conjecture over what it was. Suffice to say that nobody slept there after that.

OLD DECREPIT THINGS!

2005-12-05T19:41:00.000Z

IT'S ALL GREEK TO ME

2005-11-30T21:17:00.000Z

A mate’s dislike for management talk got me thinking. Everyone speaks like this in the office and after a while the odd phrase or two starts slipping into your own conversations and before you’ve realised it, you’ve become one of them. A clone. The living dead (or undead). I’ve included some examples below and what they really mean.

World – “I believe that sits in my world” means my megalomaniac tendencies have developed to a point were I see my four cubicles as an independent territory over which I rule despotically.

Offline – “I concede that we need to discuss this further. How about we take this offline?” means you are talking way too long about this and we are sick of hearing about it so shut up.

Going Forward - “Going forward we should ensure that all trades are captured” means because you have fucked this up so far I’m now telling you what you should be doing from now on so pay attention.

High Level – “My high level perspective on this” means I don’t really know anything about this but I’ll give you my meaningless opinion on this anyway.

Touch Base – “Can we touch base later?” means I really don’t want to talk to you right now so can you please call me at some other time.

Tactical – “I’ve implemented a tactical solution in the meantime” means it pretty fucked right now but I’ve sticky taped it together and let’s hope it doesn’t blow up before I leave for Brazil.

Leverage – “Let’s leverage off what equities currently do for this” means I couldn’t be stuffed coming up with our own process so let’s copy someone else’s.

WHERE WAS DAFFYD?

2005-11-27T15:21:00.000Z

Ah Wales, a land where they speak gaelic (not homo tongue), drink beer, sing songs and play a little rugby. I was in Cardiff on Saturday to watch the rugby with some of the boyos. It’s almost as if they built the entire town around Millenium Stadium as an afterthought. It seemed like the whole city had come out to watch the rugby. All the roads were closed off to traffic and the bars were jam packed. Just before kickoff a mass of red humanity streamed out of the bars and pubs and into the stadium. Listening to seventy three thousand people singing the welsh national anthem was spine tingling. Listening to a hundred aussies singing Advance Australia Fair was equally moving (well almost). By all accounts after the game, the boys had a good time drinking beer and singing Tom Jones classics with the locals. I hot footed it back to London to the Metra (It took me four hours)

By the way we lost 24-22. Goodbye Mr Jones!

WAX OFF MR MIYAGI!

2005-11-26T20:09:00.000Z

It was while I snoozed in the back seat of Deshy’s car dreaming about poppy fields that I heard the horrible news. Pat Morita had passed away at the ripe old age of 73. Pat had starred in Happy Days when they replaced the fat Italian Arnold but what I will always remember him fondly for is The Karate Kid. There were so many definitive films for me growing up in the 80’s like The Last Starfighter, Goonies, Raiders of the Lost Ark and above them all was The Karate Kid.

He played Mr Miyagi training the impulsive Daniel-san in the ways of “ka ra te”. Like a little Japanese Yoda he would impart pearls of wisdom to his protégé to teach him that karate was for self defence and never to be used in anger. That was unless, of course you were beating the shit out of other people in karate competitions.

This film had a profound effect on me. I remember spending hours trying to catch blowflys with chopsticks (I found it was much easier after you had sprayed them with Mortein). I spent days hopping around refining my crane technique and spent many an hour waxing my father’s car.

Thanks for teaching me that good always triumphs over evil. That playing an asian stereotype could almost snag you an Oscar and that doing chores could be fun.

Wax off Mr Miyagi……Rest In Peace

INAPPROPRIATE QUOTES

2005-11-24T23:11:00.000Z

"All good things come to those who wait" Not something you want to say to Grandpa at the nursing home when he complains of bedsores.

MYERS BRIGGS V ATHENA STAR WOMAN (RIP)

2005-11-24T23:07:00.000Z

I’m sure if you’ve worked for a company before you’ve probably done some sort of psychometric testing. They love trying to box you into some sort of category to make sure they’re fitting you into the right hole. I’ve actually done heaps of this type of stuff. Not because I’m loopy or have emotional problems but because I wear adult diapers. Sorry want to wear adult diapers. After eating one of Desh’s fiery currys you would to.

The first real job I ever applied for back home required me to do five hours of this testing. Five hours of ticking answers to inane question after insane question while praying I didn’t mess up the sequencing and come out looking like Charles Bronson. Oops Manson. By the end I didn’t really care what I was ticking in. Do you like small breasted women? Tick Yes. Do you like large breasted women? Tick Yes. Okay maybe not the best example but you get the picture. (If I wasn’t tired I would of ticked Yes then No. Read into that what you will)

After completing the test I spent an hour being questioned by the company psychiatrist. What is it about these guys that make me want to spill my guts? I don’t think he wanted to hear about how sad I was after my first dog Lucky died but he was quite nice about it. I can’t remember where I was going with this story. Ah yes.

Once again I have been subject to the corporate machinations of an unfeeling legal entity. They made me do the Myers Briggs personality test! Again! Apparently put together by two students in the ye olden days before fun was invented. It was based on the works of some German psycho analyst. Not the Freud guy. Briefly, what they said was that a person’s personality could be defined between four ranges. Extrovert v Introvert, Sensing v Intuition, Thinking v Feeling and Judging v Perceiving. I’m not going to bore you with what each one means and if you’re interested you can check out this link.

Effectively there are sixteen possible personality types that you can be. I was an ISTP (Introverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving). For each type they have come up with traits common to each. I will post mine so that you can tell me how appropriate it is. I will also post a personality profile defined by my star sign. Which one will be more accurate?

WHAT SHOULD I DO?

2005-11-24T22:43:00.000Z

I may have mentioned this in passing but it looks very likely at this stage that I will be moving to New York in April. I lie! It’s set in stone as far as my boss is concerned. To quote her “You are going to New York!” I’m not sure why but I’m sort of indifferent to the idea of New York and the only reason I’m considering it is because I need a change. If they had told me I was going to Hong Kong then I would have been jumping around like I’d won the lottery or Average Joe. Let’s look at this subjectively.

PROS

1. It’s a great place to get blitzed.
2. There’s a Korea Town. (Last time I went there I had the kimchi dumplings and almost hurled when I left the restaurant. Must have been a bad batch. Britney likes kimchi because it reminds him of sauerkraut. Weirdo!) Korean food in the UK sucks!
3. Cheap shopping.
4. Americans are friendly. American girls are very friendly. Californians are very, very friendly.
5. Beer Pong.
6. There will be travel to Latin America involved with the new role.
7. Oh yeah and it might be good for my career.

CONS

1. My life would probably spiral uncontrollably into alcoholism and depravity.
2. I wouldn’t know anyone.
3. The legal drinking age is 21.
4. Can’t smoke in bars or clubs.
5. I hate getting grilled at immigration.

I’m still not sure…………

I'VE BEEN FLAT OUT.........

2005-11-22T20:35:00.000Z

I haven't written a lot recently as I've been either too busy at work, hungover or really tired. I will update this blog as soon as I pull my finger out. Off to Cardiff this weekend for the rugby so expect to see some shots from the game.

WING WOMAN!

2005-11-20T17:49:00.000Z

When is a wingman not a wingman? Well when she’s a woman. I went out for a feed and drink with Sandy on Saturday night. I might as well have worn a sign around my neck saying “Leper!” Girls wouldn’t have a bar of me and the Metra was chock full of cute girls. After a while I just gave up and drank. Sandy tried to feed me some crap about it being easier to meet girls with a wing woman. Yeah maybe if you’re a lesbian.

IN THE NAVY! YOU CAN SAIL THE SEVEN SEAS!

2005-11-18T17:15:00.000Z

Being one of the young up and comers in the bank (ha ha), I was asked to go on a leadership workshop. As part of this workshop we would be going to the Royal Navy base in Portsmouth to have a go on the navy’s training apparatus. It is essentially a replica of a boat that was built onshore that they use to train their sailors in the very important art of plugging holes in your boat while at sea to stop it sinking.

It was fucking cold being November and I really wasn’t looking forward to going swimming but as I sat through the initial briefing I began to think to get into it and was starting to get excited (keep it clean boys). We were issued our overalls, dry suit, boots and helmet which we changed into and headed to the workshop for instruction on the different ways of fixing holes in ships after a rousing rendition of Y.M.C.A. As the instructor explained the seventh method I began to panic after realising I had forgotten the first six. He smirked as he mentioned that the water temperature would be a chilly 13 degrees centigrade.

As team leader in the diesel room I was expected to stand back and tell people what to do. I was shitting myself while trying to remember the builds I would need to do. Anyway it was too late for that now. The simulated attack began and we were ordered into the breach. The lights went out as the sirens began to blaze away. Smoke billowed into the room as I swung myself around the rim of the hatch to avoid the 120 psi jet of water that was shooting through it and climbed down into the diesel room. I stood there watching the water seeping through the hatch in the floor till a shout from my team brought me back to reality and I grabbed the wedges from them. The boat began to rock from side to side and water began flooding in. We immediately started work on plugging the holes in the wall and began the build on the hatch on the floor as we had been taught. Going back up the ladder to collect the stuff we needed to get the repairs in place. The water only got up to our knees and I was beginning to think that it was easy.

On came the second stage. This time when I entered the diesel room the water was already chest high and a jet of water smacked me in the back of the head as I came down the ladder. With the boat rocking I looked for a handhold to wait for my team to come down. With hindsight it was incredibly funny. Some of the girls in my team were already treading water as I grabbed them to stop them from floating away. Water was gushing in from multiple holes in the hull. It was so powerful that we had to literally hold people in place to stop them being knocked off their feet while they attempted to knock wedges into the holes.

This was the most fun I’ve ever had on a training course. Despite the mild hypothermia characterised by uncontrollable shivering and my inability to put two words together it was an absolute blast. What did I learn from this experience? That unless the West Indies Navy are recruiting to cruise the Caribbean and are offering essential training in water sports and cocktail mixing the Navy is definitely not for me. That in an actual war time situation I would probably crap myself. Mechanised Accounting Division anyone?

THE ROAD IS LONG, WITH MANY A WINDING TURN....

2005-11-13T20:09:00.000Z

Smithy's journey home that night............pure gold.

left digress. (cant remember doing so!)
I think I roamed the streets looking for a bus!
found bus.
though hoped on a wrong bus (or bus going the wrong way)
fell asleep on bus.
woke up on bus.
my bus was at london bridge.
great. focus glenno
got off bus.
saw 24 hour store.
bought mexican pringles.
ate em.
recognised borough markets through my partially opened eyes.
walked across river.
walked down embankment up to the strand
gave bum 20p on the embankment
got sick of pringles so tony lockett AFL style kicked my pringles tin.
chips everywhere
found another bus on strand.
confirmed bus direction and destination.
sat down knackered (not like we had been standing all day)
fell asleep again.
but little were i to know that my oyster card did not swipe properly
bus stopped by about 20 ticket inspectors.
bus stopped somewhere between knightsbrige & hammersmith
everyone off bus
show us your tickets
unvalidated oyster says the standard african ticket inspector who cant speak properly even though i am the one who is drunk/wasted/very angry
give me £20 on the spot fine.
BullSh@it
yes sorry you have to give it to me.
BullSh@it
yes you do.....
pay fine
tell inspector to stick it and get a real job
police officer pulls me aside and threatens to arrest me if i dont move along
i move along and start walking the rest of the way to hammersmith
arrive flat 6/149 hammersmith grove at some stupid hour hoping we can win by two clear goals on wednesday.
didnt bother to check time as knew that was a lost cause.
i win prize for most post codes covered on foot/by bus

by the way, what are we doing wednesday for the game?

YOU ARE GAY, PARRA IS GAY WE ALL ARE GAY?

2005-11-12T20:11:00.000Z

Saturday was a very, very long day. It seemed even longer than that time I spent thirty two straight hours on a mini-van/bus/mini-van/bus from Bangkok to Singapore. Australia and Uruguay were getting it on in Montevideo in a World Cup qualifier and there was supposedly only one place to watch it in town, Sportscafe in Picadilly Circus. With a capacity of six hundred and half a million Aussies in London who would potentially want to watch the most important football game that Australia has ever played. You do the math! Obviously we got there early, about seven and a half hours early to ensure that we wouldn’t miss it.

Luckily for us we got to sit through losing to England in the rugby and watching England beat Argentina in the football (though this was a really entertaining game) before the main event.

Despite the grainy, jumpy satellite footage we saw our boys do incredibly well to only lose 1-0 and give us our best chance of going to the World Cup since 1974. It certainly wasn't a place for women and small children (or dogs). The language was colourful in our description of Uruguayans, cheesy American commentators on mobile phones, referees and linesmen and if that dirty, mussell stinking, chocolate eating, cheating Belgian referee hadn't of given that dodgy free kick then we would never have conceded that goal! It was shoulder to shoulder and even I could see that!

Heartened by our boy’s heroic efforts and half cut I made my way to the Metra with couple of the fellas where I could barely stand and spent most of the time wondering why I was there. But don't worry Deshy reminded me, "Um, cute asian girls". Oh yeah that’s right.

ALL THE LEAVES ARE BROWN, AND THE SKY IS GREY....

2005-11-06T11:21:00.000Z

I was on my way to Greenwich for a free dinner with Sandy when I thought I'd take a stroll around Westminster to take some tourist shots as I guess I've only got five months left in London and over the past two years I've taken bugger all photos. As you can see it was a typical grey, cold overcast day in London. Westminster was rammed with tourists. The most interesting thing for me was that the lawns of Westminster Abbey were covered with with crosses representing each British soldier that has died in the Iraqi conflict/war/insurgency (whatever you want to call it). It's kind of sobering to see so many of them.

ONCE, TWICE, THREE TIMES A CHONGER!

2005-11-06T10:26:00.000Z

Oh yeah! Im almost a chonger! I've finally made it. All that hard work I've put in has paid off. I'm so happy I could almost cry.

I've made onto http://www.chopstick.co.uk , an exclusively chonger party website. Check it out!

And yes that is a picture of Anh kissing Han Lee. Normally I'd be all for this this but come on Anh. How could you?

OKTOBERFEST PICTORIAL!

2005-11-05T09:30:00.000Z

A GROVELING PUBLIC APOLOGY!

2005-11-03T07:00:00.000Z

It has been brought to my attention that I may have caused offence last Saturday night. I may have mentioned in passing that “I thought you looked slutty in those fishnets”. For some inexplicable reason I never thought that you would be offended and I humbly apologise if I caused any hurt in any way. To punish myself I’m issuing a groveling public apology. Please consider the following as mitigating factors though it still doesn’t excuse my actions in any way -

1. I had drunk 7 tequila shots.
2. I thought I was talking to Prieshka.
3. I assure you that I was not being serious. You looked totally cool. Not slutty at all.
4. I was practicing my ghetto slang. For example. Phat doesn’t mean you are obese but hot. You are bad means good. Yes means no……….just disregard this one.

It has been brought to my attention that this doesn't come across as a real apology. If this is the case then I'm also sorry about that as well.

AAARRRGGGHHH!

2005-10-30T13:03:00.000Z

By the way, I went out on Saturday night for Deshy’s birthday drinks and you will not believe how many times people asked me whether I had visited the North or South. Yes I went on a holiday to Pyongyang to meet my cousin Kim Jong Il. We had a grand old time screwing Swedish hookers and playing nuclear weapon silly buggers with the US. Oh how we laughed at those capitalist pigs.

BOOKING CLUBS

2005-10-21T17:59:00.000+01:00

I was up nice and early for the trip down to Pusan. Hyang Na and some of her mates were taking me down there for a day trip. It's the second largest city in Korea and supposedly much nicer than Daegu. That's pretty much all I know about it.

Haeundae was nice. It was a beach. Had a few coronas at TGIF (They have also embraced the US chain invasion) and headed to Kwangali. It was a bridge. It did look very nice at night. My uncle (Hyang Na's dad) took me to dinner at the top of Palgongsan. Hyang Na's mother is absolute hoot. She cracks me up cause she's so bolshie and opinionated. I really like her. Her Dad has also spent a lot of time overseas so he is pretty open-minded.

Booking clubs. What the hell are they are? It seems like a uniquely Korean phenomena to me. As I have never been apparently this is what happens. In the dimly lighted clubs of Korea, in packs of three or four, the male of the species will purchase tables to sit and drink alcoholic beverages. The type of beverage purchased will be a indication to the females of the ability for the male to care for future young. The females will stand on the other side of the club leaving an empty space called "a dance floor". The male will select a female that he is interested in and ask the facilitating species called "a waiter" to cajole and drag the female across to the male's table. The female will make a ritual show of reluctance as a indication of her purity and chasteness. Then the real excitement begins. The male will attempt to convince the female of his worthiness using wit and charm with the ultimate aim of getting "a phone number".

Funny thing is that the only people I know that have been are all my mates as clients take them out to show them a good time (get them laid).

Somehow my aunty had heard that I was keen to mix it up in Daegu. However she had gotten the impression that I wanted to go to a booking club. I quickly disabused her of that notion. By dumb luck it happened to be club night in Daegu. This meant that for 10,000 won you would get entry into four clubs. What I didn't understand is that they were all hip hop clubs and pretty much the same. I couldn't tell the difference. Have you noticed when chicks fight that they have no rules? They will pull hair, bite, scratch and use high heels (the pointy bit). Maybe that's why I enjoy watching them so much. Anyway, had a great time with my cousin though was exhausted by 3 AM. For a small girl she can really sink some piss and has endless energy.

Damn I think I’m getting old.

WHERE THE SPIRIT OF 2000 YEARS IS STILL ALIVE......

2005-10-20T12:33:00.000+01:00

MATCHMAKER, MATCHMAKER MAKE ME A MATCH!

2005-10-19T17:30:00.000+01:00

My aunty (Komo) spent most of the time asking me why I wasn’t married yet. I’m 29 by Korean reckoning and by this age I should have at least had a couple of kids by now. It’s almost criminally selfish of me to have not had kids by now. She had been the one who had introduced my mother to my father and so had a proven track record (um okay). By her thinking the perfect woman for me would be a nice Korean girl who preferably has been educated overseas and so can speak English as well as Korean. I hope she does speak English though if she didn’t it would probably eliminate the need for small talk. In order to entice this lucky lady my aunty asked me for some very important facts about myself. I steeled myself in preparation for a barrage of questions.

KOMO: How much money do you make?

And that was it. Matchmaking is very much a refined art these days.

So if you’re in Changwon, South Korea and my aunty tries to set you up with me. Run! Run away! But if you don’t like physical exercise I like long walks in the moonlight, romantic candlelight dinners and I also have this angry purple rash which I can’t seem to get rid of. I swear it’s not an STD.