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Once again, I’m writing a blog, and missing topless waitresses at the pub. And I have just received a text saying “Ud love this topless barmaid, covered in tattoos.” Let’s move on.

I have started writing this blog with a degree of trepidation (that means I may be a little bit worried or nervous), as history has taught us before, that the 3^rd instalment of anything can be a bit, well rubbish. Terminator 1 was epic, never to be topped again. But Terminator 2 came along, and was just awesome. A pretty good representation of my blog thus far.  However, Terminator 3 was gash. So, at this stage I may be inclined to believe that this blog will lack the witty remarks, the in depth descriptive narratives I use, and the overall humour of the first 2. Shit! Die Hard 3 was also not very good!! Or Jurassic Park 3! Home Alone 3! Speaking of which, they are actually making a 5^th home alone movie. No joke, Google it. Talk about milking a piss poor franchise! Actually, my worries have just disappeared. Twilight Eclipse was the 3^rd instalment, and it rocked! Speaking of which there is a 15 second preview of the trailer for Breaking Dawn 2 on www.imdb.com , I suggest that all you die hard Twilight fans head on over there and watch Bella run through the woods like she is on crack.

I got asked the other day if I write a bit of the blog, and then come back to it. I don’t, I write it all in one go. I do however note down things on my iPad (iPad 2 not the first one that is massive or the third one that overheats) that I want to include. Speaking of iPad, I have an app, called Draw Something, and it is quality. Go and buy it now, 69p it cost me, and it is awesome. I have a pen for my iPad screen, so I can create some decent looking things. If you have got it, my username is zeboobel, so get adding and drawing!

So since my last entry, I have done a few interesting things. Me and some of the boys went to play football one night to get out of the apartments and too have a bit of non-sexual male bonding. We walked for what seemed to be forever to the INDOOR court, and within 2 minutes of being inside we were warm. And I mean warm. No I mean hot. Insanely hot. The night time temperature here is around the 28/29c mark. Imagine being inside a building that has no air-con, in this climate. Wearing football gear, which consisted of Nike Dri-Fit tops and shorts. You know, the clever clothing system that is designed to RETAIN heat. I don’t profess to being a weatherman, but I reckon the temperature inside was floating around the 40c mark. The humidity level is bonkers. Without sounding condescending, I will briefly explain what it is. Humidity is basically the name given for the invisible water that is in the air. The particles are that small, that you cannot see them. It is similar to fog in some ways. So, looking at the weather forecasts for London, and the previous day’s weather, the temperature the other day was 5c with a 44% humidity. So, at that temperature, the humidity will do nothing to affect you, as the invisible water vapour around you is sitting at a nice 5c, and only 44%. Are you with me so far? Good. Now, pop on a plane and go to Egypt. It is 34c outside, yet the humidity is only at 6%. This means that if you stand in the sun, you will feel hot. But, in the shade, because the humidity level is so low, there are hardly any water vapours to be warmed up, so you won’t feel the heat as much. This is why you can tell the distinct difference in temperature when you go from the sun, to the shade. Now, in Darwin, on the day we played football, indoors, with no air-con, wearing clothes that are designed to RETAIN heat, not get rid of heat, but RETAIN heat, the humidity level was a lovely 96%. So, to recap, we approximate that the indoor court, which had roughly 50 blokes in scattered around, with no air con etc, was sitting at about 40c, with a humidity level of 96%. To give you an idea, go into a greenhouse that is growing tomatoes, and just read a magazine in there for a half hour. Let me know if you get a sweat on. We played for 90minutes. It was an experience that I will never forget. Back in the UK, when the sun pops out, we all say “oooh I like it warm, but this is like ya know, a muggy heat.” Then we pull our tops away from our chest and flap it back and forward and do the thing with our mouths where we expel air and make the funny noise through our lips. You haven’t experienced anything until you have played football for 90 minutes in what was essentially a huge greenhouse with no air con. Or tomatoes. We were all drenched. I actually learnt that night that as humans, we do indeed possess sweat glands on our knee caps. I can’t remember a time that I sweated from my knee caps. Everyone was dripping, and I mean dripping. It was constantly pouring off us, and you could see in everybody’s eyes, that they could feel the heat getting to them. We did have 3 little breaks whilst playing, just to grab some fluids, and then we were back into it again. We all walked home, and some asked if we should go for a beer. We were that exhausted, hot and sweaty, that we all declined. When I got into my apartment, I took off my top, and I swear to whichever god you believe in, I actually rung my top, and sweat fell out like my top was a sponge. It is something I think I won’t experience again anywhere else. This is why when you’re walking around, even when it is overcast, you sweat. The thing is, because it happens to everybody, there is nothing to be ashamed of. We are currently on the back end of the wet season, as the dry season fully approaches, the humidity level drops, and temperature increases. So in a few months’ time, you’ll see my white ass in the shade.

I have found a flaw with Australia. It might not be Australia’s fault, so I will leave it to you guys to draw your own conclusions. Anything that requires a battery is being targeted by Australia. I charge my phone all the time. It is on charge all through the night, and within 4 hours of it coming off charge, it whinges and me and moans that it wants more electricity. My iPad (iPad2 remember), is the same. After a few hours on Draw Something, it too whinges like a little bitch and wants more electricity. My laptop, and even my BabyLiss face shaver do the same. So, I have come to the conclusion that either the Australian electricity is proper weak and needs to man up, or the heat is having a direct effect on the performance of batteries. I think it is the first one, because batteries, in theory, perform better in heat. The heat excites and energises all the little magical particles and atoms in batteries, and makes them ping around. The pinging of the magical particles contributes towards the power regeneration of the battery. Think about it, car batteries die in the winter because they have got too cold. You see car batteries with their own mini coat on to retain some heat. You never hear your mate down the pub telling you he called out the RAC because his car battery got a bit warm. So I think that the Australian Electricity isn’t as strong as ours. To be honest, it is their only flaw.

Flicking through the TV channels the other day, I noticed they had Coronation Street on is Australia. That’s it.

You will remember on my last entry that Australia have the extremely clever washing machines. Just as I thought they couldn’t possibly get any better, they pull out another surprise. Just like Terry Tibbs when he cracks out his fireworks, Australia had another corker in store for me. Back in the 80’s, ghetto blasters were the in thing. Just as Run DMC were dropping some phat (phrase used in the hood meaning good) beats, electronic manufacturers realised there was a market for oversized stereos, that people could walk around with, and rest on their shoulder, listening to their music. And making everybody else listen to it as well. They took about 340 batteries to power them, and they were heavy. And ugly, and bulky. So, it is 1988. You’re walking down the street, with your Alba ghetto blaster on, listening to a bit of Run DMC, and you see something in a shop that you want. How do you buy it? You put down the ghetto blaster, purchase your goods, and out you go, ghetto blaster back on one shoulder, holding it with your arm, and your shopping items in a bag in your spare hand. Now, some cheeky little sod sees you (no hears you) with your ghetto blaster and shopping, and they decide to tickle you. Now if you’re ticklish, this would be horrendously annoying. You need to decide, do you drop the ghetto blaster, spilling 340 batteries all over the show, or do you drop the shopping? Either way, something has got to go. Someone in Australia has obviously thought of this and they have come up with an answer. You can buy a bag here, so when you have bought a magazine and a pencil, you can put it in this bag. BUT, located within this bag, is a little device you plug your phone/mp3 player into, and the bag becomes a portable speaker system. That’s right, you have your bag, and your speaker system in one useful, yet fashionable item. And the speakers aren’t overly loud, so you won’t look like a cock walking around with your garbage music blaring out. You want proof? Look below. They even adorn the bag with the Australian flag, just so we all know who pioneered this awesome device.

Australia is all about discovery, and in a meeting prior to coming out here, I said that one thing I was looking forward too, was seeing if in anyway, I discovered anything about myself. So far I haven’t, however I have discovered something pretty sinister, and I am sure that mobile phone companies and alcoholic drinks manufacturers are in cahoots. You may think I’m crazy, but hear me out. Back in 2002, I had a crummy Nokia phone, I had just turned 18, and I had also discovered drink. I managed to keep this from my immediate family, but I drank like an absolute fish. So, I would go out and get slaughtered, and inevitably, you start texting. Because back then, there was no Twitter or Faceache or any other social networking, there was no internet on your phone unless you remortgaged your house. So texting was relatively new, and it was ace. So, I’d go out on a day that ended in ‘day’, and drink, and at the time I was seeing someone (no names being mentioned here) and the lovey dovey texts got sent. But because I was absolutely rimmed off my face on alcopops, the texts weren’t really making sense. “ I djut yhen iygen pi xx.” No predictive text and no autocorrect. So, you would compose a text, and then do the thing where you move the phone away from your face and then closer, trying to focus on what you have written. When you finally focus, you can see the text makes no sense, and so the little clever part of your cerebellum (that’s in your brain) tells you that you have had enough to drink, and with that you go home.

2012. Technology. All this technology we rely on. Two TV programmes on at once that you want to record, AND watch a 3^rd? Easy. Films on a round thing the size of a cd, rather than big chunky tapes. No problems. Phones that automatically correct your miss-spelt words. Right here with us. You’re probably wondering what the fuck I am on about. How could a piece of technology that prevents us from embarrassment possibly be a hindrance? Let’s picture another scene. Friday night, out with your mates, dropping a few cheeky gallons of booze down your neck. It’s flowing nice and easy. One after the other, down they go. You pull out your phone, and jump on Facebook. Update status. “Out with the boys, having a fantastic time. Loving life.” Post. No spelling or grammar mistakes. Sub consciously you recognise this, and because you are able to coherently put together a string of words, you think that you aren’t drunk. Sweet. Let’s get a few more down me. So, you carry on drinking excessively, all happy and merry. Cheeks have started to go red, eyes getting a tiny bit bloodshot. When you walk, you have got a bit of a sway on, but if you look like you’re going to fall, you save it at the last minute, and pull off a smooth dance move. Out comes the phone, “Dancing and owning the dance floor, like a boss!!” Again, autocorrect has protected you from a status update that would make you look like a tit. Because you can read it, you assume that you are sober. So you drink some more, and more, and more, and more. Until the stage where you can’t even get the phone out. In the morning you check your phone, and you see that the Facebook’s, and the Twitter updates, and the texts to the random girls, are all written in a way that indicates you were compus mentus. This is where phone manufacturers and brewing companies are in cahoots. They know that by installing software that can detect you’re spelling mistakes, you will assume you are never drunk, and keep on buying the drinks. I urge you all, turn of autocorrect, and turn off the t9 dictionary. That way, you will always know when you have drunk too much, and you will stop. This will save you some pennies, and more importantly, it will save your health. You can thank Australia for bringing this to my attention.

March the 17^th is known worldwide as St Patrick’s Day. It’s a day when we can celebrate green. We show grass all the love we can, and we kiss people with green eyes. It is also a day where is socially correct to accept people with pasty white complexions and ginger beards. To celebrate St Patricks day, we all went to the local horse racing course called Darwin Race course. It is where I work, in sorts. We went for the day, and to be honest, I was uber excited about it. I had never in my life before been to a horse racing meeting. I went the dogs once years ago, because I remember placing a bet for £1 on a dog, and won £12 back, which I spent on chips and beer. But I had never been to the horses. Now working for a gambling company, you may be thinking that this is pretty weird, but I don’t like horse racing, I think it is cruel. I wouldn’t like it if, say a midget hopped on my back wearing silks, and smacked me with a whip. However, I was looking forward to going as I am up for trying new things :-p.

I have seen racing on the TV, and they all dress well posh. When I came over here, the poshest thing I brought with me was some £10 chinos from Primani. So, in order to fit in, I thought I would wear these, with some black and orange adidas NEO trainers, and a grey family guy t-shirt. Who needs hats with peacocks on anyway? We walked to the race track; it is literally a 10 minute stroll away, with my posh camera stowed away safely in my camera bag. It was warm, but bearable. We gave our entrance tickets to the security, and strolled in like royalty. It was busy. Full of Irish people for some reason. We had tickets for some special terrace, and so we walked up, showed our tickets to security and were allowed onto the terrace. Within the space of 10 minutes, it went from being warm, to being really, really, really warm. Very muggy. And here is me, wearing chinos, and a grey t-shirt. Chinos. What was I thinking? When I decided to get dressed, why didn’t the intelligent part of me stop me from wearing chinos? And what in the hell possessed me to wear a grey t-shirt? I may as well have made a sign to stick on my back elevating above my head with a yellow arrow pointing down to the sweat patches. I couldn’t take many photos as when I went to the viewfinder, the sweat was getting on my posh camera. I did the shirt pully out thing and I even made the noise through my lips, but still I was hot. And sweaty. I asked a mate if I was sweaty on my back. She didn’t have to say a word. The look on her face said it all. I looked around me, and was surrounded by people wearing posh clobber, but breathable posh clobber. (You could even see some girls bra’s the clothes were that see through.) There were people there, who hadn’t even got a bead of sweat on them. Not a single drop. How is that fair. This was really uncomfortable. It was like when you have got a bad stomach, and you are holding it in, and it’s got that bad that you sweat loads. But without actually needing to drop one off.  I sat down for a bit took some pictures, and then decided to go for a walk and find some air con. When I stood up, I noticed that my dark blue £10 Primani chinos were drenched. I had been there 15 minutes. It was 1:15pm, first race off at 1:20, event on until 6pm. The rest of my Ozzy buddies were wearing shorts, and light t-shirts. There was no way I could stand this all day. I painfully watched the first race, constantly wiping sweat from out of my eyes, and then went for another walk. I bought a Strongbow cider, which lasted about 4 seconds, and went for a little stroll. It was on this stroll that I saw Ben, and noticed he had changed his footwear. I asked him and he told me you could get a pass to exit, and return. It was like he was an angel. With his blonde perfect hair, his clean shaven face, and his smile, he actually was my angel. I had thoughts straight away, go home, and get changed. Come back, be cooler, and drink. So, me and Brian from family guy, got our exit and return pass, and back to the apartment I trotted. The roads here are straight, and long, much like America. When I was walking back, it felt like I was walking through a desert. I could see the heat rising from the road, and in the distance I was absolutely sure I could see a giant chicken coming towards me. The heat must really be getting to me. It turns out, that a giant chicken was in fact coming towards me. It was a truck with a giant chicken plastic head on the top of it. When it drove past I stopped, and it was some chicken company truck. I got back to the apartment, went upstairs and walked into heaven. 18c of temperature regulated controlled conditioned heaven. I took Brian off my back, he was soaked, it was minging and he went into the laundry basket. The chinos came straight off, and again they went into the laundry. I wanted to have a little lie down so I clambered onto my bed, and finally revelled in a nice cold room.

I woke up at about 540pm. I had missed the majority of St Paddy’s day at the races, I had missed the posh clothes wearing people getting trollied. I was gutted tbh. I checked Facebook, and it was adorned with photos from the races, and I was well jealous of all the fun they had. A few moments later, Al Isherwood came home, and he came upstairs wearing a massive Guinness hat, and fell face first into my bed, and uttered 2 words. “I’m drunk.” If not for this information, I wouldn’t have known. My jealous thoughts, and my upset were soon gone though, as I knew that there was still a whole night of drinking in store for me. So, we all went out, we all got hammered, and we all went into Darwin town. And I drank like a fish. Again. It was epic. Everyone was celebrating Green day, and they were all wearing novelty clothes and oversized Guinness hats. I myself paid homage to Green day, and displayed the green part of my tattoo. When in Rome, and all that. The blackcurrant cider was going down far too well, but, because I could still text absolutely fine, I carried on drinking. I ended up wearing toothies (he is a mate) sunglasses and I was proper cool. Later on, Ray Kay, another mate, decided she wanted these, and so we (un)willingly traded a Guinness hat for the sunglasses. It wasn’t a fair trade, she wanted the sunglasses, and women get what they want. The hat was mega hot, and my head was warm. All night. The night ended up with me buying a sausage cheese and bacon pie, which turned out was actually a sausage roll with luminous pink matter inside of it. But I got a hint of bacon, so I ate it. We got a taxi back to the apartment, I asked the driver what time he started, what time he was on until, and why he hadn’t got a beaded seat cover. People in the back laughed for some reason. When I got into my room, I lay on the bed, my sister had sent me Facebook message. I decided to reply in the morning. There was a noise at the front door, and someone was trying to get in. I remembered that I had chained the door. So I got out of bed, and ran downstairs, and opened the door and let Rich in. The run back upstairs wasn’t as pleasant. My stomach felt, a bit, well, off. I went into the bathroom, and without warning I proceeded to redecorate the inside of the toilet in a pinky meaty sicky décor. It says something about that ‘pie’, when it looks better coming out of my mouth. I was drunk. I stumbled into bed after brushing my teeth, and snoozed off. I checked my phone in the morning, and noticed that I had indeed replied to my sister. This is the actual transcript of the messages.

o    Sister : Hello u ok what ya been upto .xxx

o    Me : Right now.am as skunk as a drunk so ill u Ger no sense from me!

As you can tell from the above-I beat autocorrect!!!!

To finish this instalment, I’m going to tell you about a lady that humbled me on the bus. No jokes or witty stuff, just something that really touched me. We all went to the city sometime in the week; I can’t remember which day it was as we are always using the buses. I was sitting down, and the bus was stopping for a bus stop. I was in an aisle seat, so everyone was walking past me. As the bus was approaching the stop, I knew someone was standing up behind me waiting for the bus too stop. As the bus stopped and people got off, this little old lady tapped me on the arm, she was wearing a typical old lady colour, it was like a purple, and she looked like a proper grandma. The type who makes Weetabix absolutely spot on for breakfast. She looked at me straight in the eyes, and she said “my dear, your tattoos are lovely.” In the UK, this would not have happened. Without casting stigmata’s or placing old people in any type of demographic, this would not have happened back home. I would have been labelled a thug. And this is why I love Australia.

Peace xx

Week 1.8.............ish

They often say that you do learn something new every day. Well today i have learnt something new. I learnt that you can’t edit the name of your blog. See, i thought that the blog name which i called "oz. week 1" was the post name. Turns out that it is actually the blog name. So the blog is called "oz week 1". Fantastic. So they, whoever "they" are, were correct that you do learn something new, although I can't currently remember what i learnt yesterday, and whether i did indeed learn anything. Or whether i learnt something, but i already knew it, but forgot it, but then remembered i knew it when i heard it. If i did hear anything. It’s like when someone asks you a question, and you absolutely know the answer, but it’s at the tip of your tongue (another phrase used quite often) yet when you’re given the answer to the question, you remember the answer. Rambling.

Now i have lost my train of thought because there are 2 bush turkeys outside the apartment, squawking like mad. A bush turkey is like a normal turkey i think but they live in the bush. Quite an apt name. No messing about there. these bush turkeys are a nuisance, completely harmless but believe me they are the masters at depriving you of any peace and quiet. The noise is crazy. You would be forgiven for thinking that they are being molested given the noise they make. It’s actually worse than a regular turkey at an abattoir. They don’t shut up. If you want to see one, either come to Australia, or Google them. In fact, YouTube them so you can appreciate just how noisy they are. And they always turn up at the worst times. If you want to go to bed because you are shattered, or you want a nice relaxing shower, you can guarantee that a bush turkey will be there to fuck your shit up. I like to think of them as chav turkeys without the fubu clothing and the guns. Thinking about it, if i was a turkey walking around in this heat, i would probably be moaning my bag off as well.

We have seen some possums as well. We have fed the possums also. They are cute, proper thick and stupid, but still cute. I cant remember if they carry diseases, so Im not taking any chances, and avoiding kissing the possums. But you can get possums drunk on vodka soaked bananas. So i am led to believe. Apparently. 

On my last entry, i left the whole world waiting with baited breath, as i dropped the bombshell that a cyclone was heading straight towards us. I’m afraid that the cyclone was just like paranormal activity 3. The hype was there, the anxiety and tension was epic, yet it failed to deliver. At the last moment, it decided to turn west and headed away from us. Instead, we got the tiny little outside bit of the cyclone. This was basically torrential rain and mental winds. When i say torrential rain, i mean ludicrous rain. You have never seen rain like it. I’m talking about rain that floods everywhere in a half hour. You actually lose your flip flops if you go out into the rain. Quite often you will see flip flops floating away down the street. This explains why there are more flip flops in Australia than actual people. That’s a statistic i have just made up. But you do see flip flops everywhere. Petrol stations, shops, they even sell them in electrical stores. True story. So the rain was crazy, the wind literally was like gale force, sending plants and leaves everywhere. And it was noisy as hell, but not as loud as bush turkeys. In fact, they are in the garden now. Not even the sound of lil Wayne on my laptop can drown them out. I believe that prisons should play the sound of bush turkeys for an hour a day for inmates. I guarantee that this would solve crime issues. Threaten criminals with the sound of bush turkeys, and you would see potential murderers walking dogs and delivering papers instead of murdering people. I don’t even think they could murder a bush turkey, they are just that loud.

As we live about 642 yards away from a local sports bar, we are always there. its 4pm at the moment, and i swear to god, i have just had a phone call asking if i want to go to the sports bar now. There are a couple of things to raise at this stage. We are always there, at night, 4pm is not a normal time to go. However, at this time, they have topless barmaids. Actual boobs out. Full on. No bikinis, no bras, actual breasts, exposed. And they are good breasts as well. Not any old woman with a moustache. Young pretty girls with boobs out. Instead of going to see them, i am here, writing this. That is dedication. And i have Google as well, so every cloud and all that. Can you imagine popping down to the cherry tree, or china gardens, and ordering your food, and the waitress is topless? Actually, i have been to both the cherry tree and china gardens, and I’d prefer the service to remain as is. With clothes firmly on. Maybe wear more in fact. But nonetheless, it’s a clever selling technique. Get the old men down there, get the girls whop there boobs out, and watch the drinks flow. The old men think they have a chance of crossing that imaginary line where they go from just looking, to actually being able to touch. They drink more, to get more Dutch courage, in the hope that they can maybe just maybe get lucky, and the topless waitress will realise that she wants an old man in her life. However, we all know that this doesn’t happen. Because just as the men think that the smiles the girls emit are flirty signs, a fucking bush turkey pipes up, and the atmosphere is gone.

The sports bar has actually been our home for a few hours at night. We see the abbo's (aborigines) trying to get in, and are swiftly ejected, as they just cause aggro. We even watched a stoke city game there. Yes, that’s right. we come all this way to Australia, in a tropical climate, with loads of new exciting things to do, and we go to the bar to watch stoke city play. As they say, you can take the man away from (insert town here) but you can’t take the (insert town here) away from the man. (I have also played linkin park to death on the jukebox-it’s all about representing). 

I briefly touched on the subject of meat in my first post, and yet again i have to discuss it here. Because it is just amazing. Today is steak and blowjob day. In Oz, it needs to be called just steak day. The meat here is that good; it renders the blow jobs not necessary. That is why you see girls walking around with smiles. They are clever. They know that the right way to a man’s heart, is actually in aisle 1 at Coles where the meat is. Forget sex and boobs, it’s all about the fine cuts of steak, the cheap cuts of steak. You can feed a family of four on steak all week for the cost of a freddo bar. It’s that cheap. I bought a joint of steak for $10, and it cut into 13 individual steaks all 1 inch thick. And the chicken breasts are gorgeous. Nice big lumps of white meat, i had one the other day for tea, and gave half away. When do i give food away? I can eat until I’m sick, and then eat more. Not here. And i had more kangaroo, but this time i was more adventurous, and had it with garlic and herb rubbed all over it. And it was amaze balls. I feel sorry for anyone who has no sense of taste. I also feel sorry for vegetarians. Apparently cows and chickens and kangaroos take offence at vegetarians over here. They want to be eaten. I wonder what a bush turkey tastes like?

One thing i used to do quite a lot back at home, was to put some clothes in the washer, and then once the washer had started, i would find a stray sock hiding somewhere. This used to really annoy me. Australia has the answer. Little did i know, but over here they use top loading washing machines. I found out the other day, that during a cycle, you can open the lid of the washer, and put any stray items in. to me, this was pure genius. It still fascinates me now. It must know that you have forgotten something, because the moment you open the lid, it stops. So i have actually tried to trick the washer, and open the lid dead fast. But it doesn’t work. It always knows. I’m sure it is a living mechanism. It can’t just be wires and metal, it is alive. And it talks to you, when the washing is done, it tells you. It beeps at you. However, the fascinating technology has one drawback. Because it is so advanced, and it knows when you have not put all of your socks in, you expect it to be hugely complicated. So the first few times i used it, i was stuck as to where the detergent goes. Google wouldn't tell me. There is a plinth in the middle of the drum that sticks out, and has like a reservoir available, where we all thought the detergent goes. It doesn’t go there. You simply pour the powder onto your clothes. Why would we invent something as clever as a washing machine that knows when you haven’t put all your socks in, yet we treat it like a hobo, and just scatter the powder in with the clothes. There should be a magical compartment with led lights that plays a tune when it wants more powder. To summarise, if you’re going to invent something so clever, don’t give it a stupid Achilles heel in the form of no powder compartment. The bar has already been raised with the clever lid design, so this should be carried on into all aspects of the machine. And i still don’t understand why the tumble drier is on the wall upside down!?!

Me and a few mates went to the Casuarina shopping centre the other day. And it’s huge. I mean big. It’s like the potteries on steroids. An absurd amount of shops there. I was in heaven. Me and some mates walked around in awe at how big it is. And yet again, the ozzies have it spot on. At the potteries shopping centre, you catch a bus there, and then walk miles the shopping centre. Not here. The bus stops UNDER the shopping centre, and you walk 30 yards to the shops and suddenly you appear in the middle of the food court. The food court is heaven. But it smells better. They have a McDonalds here, and I am pleased to announce that the double quarter pounder is still available. And it’s absolutely inspiring. I ate it, and I am sure I had ideas about how to resolve many of the world’s issues whilst eating half a cow on bread. And the chips, they’re just totes amazing. Not like our chips at McDs, oh no. they just are better. In every way. Not too hot, not to salty, they have a crunch to them like fries should. And they have kfc, and multiple pizza outlets, and Chinese places. Talk about being clued up.

I bought a few items whilst we were there. I bought a man bag to carry my wallet and phone around with, because after all, I’m not wearing jeans I’m wearing shorts. With no pockets, so I was forced to buy one. For only $12. And it has compartments. So I can separate my items. This now means I can retrieve my wallet without having to look for it. Because I know where it will be as it has its own compartment. These guys think outside the box. There was a shop there as well that sold 5 pairs of French knickers for only $15. I worked it out to be only $3 for a pair. That’s good value considering Ann summers edible panties are like £5. And these ones were real ones so they can be washed in the clever washing machines.  I also bought a rainproof mac type thing. And it folds away into its own little carry case, which fits into my man bag. We stood there looking at these macs for literally 20 minutes. I couldn’t help it, I wanted it in black, but they had only XL and medium. XL was way too big, and medium was ok, but a bit tight around my muscular upper physique. So after much deliberation, I opted for the navy blue in large. I wasn’t happy with this as navy blue isn’t my colour. It reminds me of old things. As I was at the checkout paying for my $15 rainproof bargain, I also noticed it came with a removable hood. That was included for the $15. Excellent.

I also bought a little rubber wristband for $2. There were a few I could have had, and again it took some time deciding which one to have. There was a green and yellow one, which had a good slogan, something like “one life, live it your way” but the drawback was the colour scheme, as I so politely expressed in front of the checkout gay guy. “I don’t like green and yellow they are the worst colours”. I forgot that Australia is known for its green and yellow. In the end, I opted for a pink wristband, that reads “dream it, wish it, do it”. Later on that day, a family guy episode was on where Brian the dog writes a book with a similar name to my wristband. If ever I needed confirmation that I chose the right one, the talking dog gave it to me. I also bought a t-shirt, a stylish one, with a half-naked woman in black and white for only $7.50. It’s cheaper than the razzle mags.

I have my bank card as well now. A pink one! I could try and justify why I had a pink one, but if you’re reading this, chances are you know me, so an explanation isn’t really needed as you know I’m 3 sandwiches short of a pillowcase. I do however feel sorry for the lovely girl in the bank in parap who opened the letter up with the bank card in. Imagine seeing a tattooed stocky guy coming in asking for his bank card, and you open it up and his card is pink. And I mean pink. I don’t mean UK driving license pink either. I mean Polly in your pocket, Barbie doll pink. I can use my bank card to illuminate the apartment at night. And I take great pleasure in using it. For once, I go to checkouts rather than self-serve, purely to see the reaction of the staff.

My eyes hurt now, and I have some meat that needs to be eaten. We are all going to the races on Saturday for St Paddies, so I am sure there will be some stories to be told once that is over. So I am off now. Would you believe it?!

A fucking bush turkey mouthing off again!


EDIT-just figured out how to edit the name! 2 things learnt today! that both contradict each other....................

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After what had felt like a thousand years, I found myself with having only one day remaining until I left for Australia. I had no nerves, I'm not that kind of person. Being nervous causes worry and stress and anxiety. What's the point of that? Embrace everything that is different, as you never know if you will get it again.

I didn't sleep very well. I lay in bed thinking of all the different things I could do and I just didn't sleep throug excitement. When I wke in the morning I loaded my mums car as she had borrowed it to me, and left to pick her up. When I was a half mile away, I realised I had left my case at home. Fail.

I arrived at my mums, blasted the horn and she duely came out. She was fine, no tears. A far cry (no pun) from what my sister would be like. We drove to my sisters and picked her up. It took 2 minutes until she started crying. Bless.

When we arrived at work I saw no minibus and we were due to leave in 15 minutes. We were told to pack our passes in out suitcases, so this left me with no way to enter the building. Awesome. Luckily, I tailgated, an act punishable by death, however given the circumstances I took a risk. it was surreal seeing everybody there with their gear ready to go, some with family in the training centre, others like me had their family outside firmly away from everybody else! We all went out and everyone did their goodbyes, there were tears, my sister was sobbing, my mum was sound, I had no tears, it's only 6 months. If it was 6months in Rhyl, I probably would have cried. When we left, a woman started running after the bus and waving. I thought she was funny. Turns out it was Abbi Ford's nan. Bosh.

The journey to heathrow was actually very quick. When you think of London you automatically assume its hours away. We were there within 2 and a half, and that included some traffic for the snow blizzard we went through. When I saw heathrow I knew the adventure had begun. We did the regular stuff of checking in and getting boarding cards. We had already prebooked an executive lounge to chill in. It was the absolute dogs dangles. Free drinks, posh cheese on toast, and a snug room, which was basically a wacky warehouse for the wealthy. And here we were. Our mark was firmly stamped.
The plan was a monster. I mean huge. I had seen an a380 on tv, but nothing could prepare me for the size of it. I looked at the plane and was actually perplexed by the beauty of it. The engineering that went into the making of that plane is absolutely outstanding. You need to see the plane up close to appreciate just how incredible it is. I then found out they suffer with cracked wings. Hmm.

We were flying cattle class, which is the lowest class. It was superb. Comfy chairs, touchscreen entertainment systems with movies and music on demand. I watch transformers dark of the moon (for the 8th time ish) and her arse going up the stairs is still immense. One nil to the Brits right there. The food was good as well, but the rack on the air hostess was impeccable. Rewind a bit actually, how have I missed this?! There is a channel which you can watch which has a camera on the tail of the plane so you can watch the plan taking off. Awesome! I watched us take off, and it was ridiculous! It felt like we were doing 25mph where as we were close to 250mph. The plane was immense. We got to Singapore, after a mental on/off sleep, and had a wander around. Immediately I noticed the culture of the Singaporean people. So friendly, always smiling. They weren't fake smiles either. You could tell they were genuinely nice. You have people in the toilets who stay there permanently cleaning up. None of this checking it every hour and signing a sheet, someone is always in there. And they will do anything to help. They even wipe your arse for you. Ok I joke, but they probably would if you asked. My phone was dead at this stage, so no Internet there. There was free wifi but I'll be buggered if I could read the writing. So I used a pc that was donated from 1996 as it was a right knackered old thing. But it worked. So a old school steam controlled pc, saved me. Faith in the old. When we left to board our plane to Oz, I found a mobile recharging point. Just my luck. The plane to Oz was a Jetstar, nowhere near as good as the a380, but still good none the less. The arrival in oz was god, and we flew through customs. We were here. Finally after the months of waiting, excitement and build up, we were here. I nearly cried, but I told nobody.

We had Trez Steve and Jan waiting to pick us up, it was now nearly 6am and we had a little bus outside waiting for us. An Australian woman drove us to the apartments and after a little debrief, I got to my room. My little home for 6 months. I quickly unpacked, woke the boys up who I'm sharing with and did a little wee.

Our first day was a bit hectic as we had stuff that needed to be sorted, including our banks and medical things. So on the first day we ventured into Darwin on the bus. $2 for all travel for 3 hours. Mint. Public transport over here is brilliant, no fanning about, no overpricing. It's designed for the public, and it works. We got into the city, and went into ANZ, which is the bank I'm using. This would be my first real encounter with an Australian. I firmly believe that first impressions do count. And she did her country proud. You would think i  had known her for years, as she was really friendly, and for the 15 minutes I was with her sorting my account, we just chatted and laughed. She made my first experience with an Ozzy awesome. This was to be something that was repeated with the rest of our encounters.
The way people speak to you, the manners they use is stunning. Even little children, who can be forgiven for not displaying manners, are simply brilliant. Always smiling, waving at you and just generally being brilliant. The only miserable person was someone I came across in woolworths, and he had a cockney accent. Figures.

For the first few days, we just pottered about, doing bits of shopping and getting used to the area, and the weather. Now, in the uk, if the sun even thinks about coming out, I'm too hot. Over here, the heat is wonderful. Yes, you do sweat a little but who cares. Your living in tropical weather. I bought one pair of jeans with me. They won't get used. Some food is expensive, some is cheap. Meat is cheap. Very cheap. 2kg silverside joint for $11. Yes please. Block of dairy milk, little one, $2. So no chocolate whilst I'm here. It's all good. But I did buy some sneaky vanilla coke. Hello childhood!

There is a bakery situated 2 minutes away from me. Back home, I am sure everyone has had a bacon and cheese sandwich. They are really nice. Ozzys do things one better. They get the dough, chuck in chopped bacon and cheese, then bake it. So the bread has cheese and bacon in. I can't describe how good it tastes. Go and make some yourself then thank me later. I have also had some kangaroo steaks. Heaven, absolute heaven. Everything over here is better, the meat is just crazy nice. Loads of flavour and so tender. Did I mention it was cheap?

On the second night, we all went to a sports bar. This is another affirmation of the Ozzy culture. We were chatting to an Ozzy called Rolf, nice guy in his 50s I would say. We spoke to him for a good few hours. Imagine being back home and that happening. It wouldn't. They don't have chavs over here, everyone gets on. We spoke to loads of people. But Rolf was epic. He was buying us drinks and he simply wouldn't let us say no. What a guy.

We went to the wave pool the other day as well. A $17m development in Darwin that has been built to encourage tourism. $8 to stay there all day riding waves, then chilling out under mini waterfalls. And getting burnt. We also had breakfast there, I had bacon beans and toast for about $10 but it's proper bacon, and doorstopper bread. You don't mind paying that when the people who take your order are friendly, unlike some student bum you would get back home. I can't describe the feeling of lying down in that sun, with 30 odd people who you know and get on with. It really is a massive privilege to be here. It's just completely out of this world.

We have bought mobiles as well, and we have been to the shop a few times, and the people working there are quality, again really friendly and just brilliant people.
You will have to forgive me as I'm telling you things, there is no specific order in which I'm writing, it's just as things come to me. Oh, I just thought, in the paper the other day there was a headline, "what a wanker" and it was a story of a man who was basically running around bashing himself off in people's gardens. The sentinel would never report that!!!

Another strange thing, the clothes driers are affixed to the walls, upside down. I don't know why.
I have spent a  Lot of time in the pool. just throwing a ball around with everyone and having banter. You can't put a price on that. Well, $22 for a mini afl ball. Courtesy of toothy. Actually it's $44 as the first one popped.
They have some quality cars over here as well, all big v8 monsters, with some mentally good registration plates. We seen one that said tt Audi, and some just say a name, like I saw ella on Toyota. Speaking of cars, I have found a purple pick up I want. $29k.

We went out into Darwin town last night. Here I discovered a few things. Firstly, ozzys  can't drink like us. Nowhere near. Secondly, they can't dance like us. We owned the dance floor last night. We represented the uk last night like you wouldn't believe. But, on a redeeming third, some of the females, well, Jesus Henry Christ. There has been a lot of good DNA matches between some people, as some of the women around here are absolutely stunning. And unlike the uk where you will get a girl who is stunning being stuck up and pompous, over here they aren't, they all smile. They don't do fake nails, and fake hair and fake tan. Even the girls who aren't tanned, they look stunning. Maybe the uk girls should take note that fake hair, fake nails, and fake tan is not a good look.

This morning we went to the famous parap markets. Held every Saturday between 8am and 2pm, they display some of the finest parap has to offer, also there is a lot of oriental stuff that comes out. Multiple food choices, bric a bric offerings and clothing stalls. But, the smell that comes from that place is amazing. I can't describe the smell of all the other foods. I can only try and describe it in my own messed up way. If you had a piece of paper, and you put dots of bright coloured paint on it, and then mixed them all together, you would get a mix of colours all bright and vivid intertwining on the paper. This is what the smells do, and its just incredible. There is stuff that I have missed, however as I write more, stuff will come flooding back. So don't panic, I will keep updating this. This is it for this little installments, I'm going to fire up the BBQ and smash some steak down me. But I will end on a cliffhanger.................................



A cyclone is coming!!!!!