Avon a burger at Wimpy via Taunton Dean services. The bun is wholemeal, the burger is burnt, the ketchup is vinegar but the coke is cola. In the car I’m listening to pop-punk and talking to Dan on the phone. When I get to Bristol Dan has socks, shorts and shirt on; looking like a spastic and smelling of beer he takes me to a party. There’s loadsa people with bulging pupils, chatting and gurning on Mkat. A short stubby specimen of a woman, has a husband, she is drinking white wine spritzerss and wearing those gay horn-rimmed glasses that don’t have lenses. She later gets escorted out for spitting at a skinhead and swearing at girls. Because we’re boys; we talk about football.
Wake up in the middle of the night to a horrible fright; a small cat is vibrating on my face, giving me itches and making me pissed off. So I lock it in a room with the dog. With Dan, go to the mall, drink some samples of tea, eat KFC, go to the pub, beep at some ramblers, pick up a Chris Hoare, kick a ball, skatepark, eat lasagne, greet Rupert and Hollie, greet Tom and get a taxi to the airport.
At the airport we get high. Lying on a sofa made from three wooden chairs, my hood partially covering my eyes, I start to see everything through a fish-eye lens. People’s heads are bending and the world is round. When I wake up we rush furiously to stand in a queue for ages. A ginger man shouts at us and then pushes in. The massage chairs are heavenly – Tourist Tip: well worth a quid. Sleep for most of the plane journey. Uneasy. Sleep at the hostel. Go out for drinks with Adam from the hostel. Get pissed as fuck and the beer tastes nice. Two hot girls (hot dancers, but actually dressed and looking like skanks) get up on stage and dance to “I’m Horny, Horny, Horny, Horny, Horny”. Rupert, when they have dismounted the miniature stage, then gets up and prances around for a while, in and out of the curtain, but no one in the joint gives a dam. A Latvian steals our drink and sticks his finger up at us. Tourist Tip: go on the pub-crawl, it’s cheap and gets you drunk.
In the morning, look at statues of blockheads: army men with guns and then find Dan and Anya. At an Armenian restaurant the speciality soup features unidentified rodent testicles and leaves a semen-like residue as you lap up the creamy white texture. Rupert tries to impress the waitress with his LARGE 1.5 litre bottle of mineral water compared to the measly 333 ml bottle that she serves him. All of the other food is amazing, Armenian A-grade cuisine. Tourist Tip: Don’t have Armenian soup, even if you’re not in Armenia.
Walk around for ages looking at stuff, mismatched buildings, Stalin’s Birthday Cake, The Opera House, some parks and an out of date football stadium.
PM: Get drunk in the hostel and its karaoke; some Japanese chicks are singing the Spice Girls, Danish guys are singing about ‘being in a Barbie world’, Rupert is going on about Bodytalk in a high-pitched shriek, Dan has a Brand new combeinharvester, we all should stick to the literal Sound of Silence after doing Simon and his mate Garfunkel a huge disservice, and Laker is a fully-blown Teenage Dirtbag. Dan and Anya stay in our room but don’t S-ing.
Another night we get pizza out and the toilet has action music of its own. I feel like taking my poo is an adventure. A blond Australian girl, who is inlove with a Scottish crackhead, follows me and Tom home. Whilst watching Barcelona on TV we sort of engage in conversation with her. When she leaves we listen to Dntel and go to sleep. Tourist Tip: Girls can be boring, even if you’ve never met them before.
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