Back in Sing

Was up at some completely god-awful time this morning and was on the first ferry of the day off the island. Funnily enough I could still use the internet half way across the journey, but it cut out way before I landed. Also, a complete first, and a total Hallmark Moment. I walked straight off the ferry at the Singapore end and straight through immigration! For all of you who have never been through Singapore, it can sometimes take up to 40 minutes usually to get through immigration, so walking straight through is a fucking rarity. Got straight into a taxi to the office of the bloke I needed to see, and he saw me for all of about fifteen seconds and told me to come back in about six hours. So, being stuck in a ridiculously expensive city, with no money, I went for a wander round. After coming to the conclusion that there is absolutely nothing to do, I decide to find myself a hotel that rents rooms by the hour. Having found an 81 hotel just on the next corner, I go and discreetly enquire as to the ‘by the hour’ situation, as, let’s face it, we all know why you rent rooms by the hour. I explain that I have a meeting later in the day and want a room to have a shower etc, and she looks completely disbelievingly at me, but quotes me a price and asks for my passport. Unfortunately, I have already given my passport to the bloke in the offices opposite and won’t see it again for god knows how many hours. I ended up having to give her my immigration slip and guess at my passport number. Hopefully I won’t go to prison for it, but I needed a shower. It is hot outside, even by normal standards, and I am sweating like a necrophiliac in a morgue. Will add more later when my visa gets declined for whatever reason.

Okay, it wasn’t declined, but took a few more hours than expected. Incidentally, the hotel room itself was only slightly larger than a wardrobe, and if you wanted a shower, you really had to be sat on the toilet to get the full effect, as there wasn’t really the room to stand. So was going to have a mooch around Singapore for a bit, having sorted out the business of the day, but was too tired, hot, sweaty, stinky, and pissed off with the whole place to be really bothered. Decided to hop on the MRT (underground), back to the harbour and book my ticket and then spend some time wandering around the shopping centre there, which is pretty extensive and usually filled with some pretty impressive fanny. As I got to the booking queue, turns out that there was a ferry just about to leave, so hopped on that. There was a bloke from the island in the queue in front of me, which was odd. He’s a UK bloke, and the first time I met him, he was wearing the same crappy T-shirt from ‘Georges’ of Asda as I had just bought before coming over, so took the piss out of his fashion sense. I know that is slightly hypocritical, but I am more than aware that my taste in clothing is abominable, so I don’t count it.

While I was on the MRT, they show videos of tube trains exploding and bits of people left after the various terrorist attacks on trains over the past few years in an attempt to make sure you report any left luggage to the authorities. Fuck that! I was shitting myself. Talk about effective shock tactics.

Anyway, just getting back into Batam waters, so will send this off.

Peace out.

 

 

 

Takeshi's castle

Well, as everyone knows, I am a bastard for a bit of Takeshi's Castle. It turns out that it is daytime telly over here. Downside is that each episode runs for an hour with breaks in the action all over the place with two Indo guys sat on a sofa with a bottle of what looked suspiciously like Jim Beam on the coffee table in between them. Every so often a gigantic man would join them. I can't work out if it is a rehash of Jap Takeshi, or their own slant on it over here. A lot of the games were similar, and some were totally different. There was a particularly painful looking back-breaking incident involving an exceedingly unattractive, flat-chested woman bouncing off a large podium with her eleventh and twelfth vertabrae. Cracking televisual entertainment of the highest magnitude.

On a completely different note, I have just made myself an extremely interesting sandwich made from some sort of tuna paste, gouda, and a touch of roquefort. Not sure how pleased I was with the result, but it was definitely interesting.

Incidentally, I am off to Singapore on Wednesday so if anyone happens to be in Sing, giz a shout. If not, you're obviously too lazy.

Singapore

Right, firstly ought to apologise for the lack of posts recently. To bring you up to date, I have a minor issue with my work permit over here, so have been hiding in a hotel for a week or so. Been going out in town a lot more, which is good, but have very little recollection of these evenings, which is not so good.
Anyway, buggered off to Singapore for a coupla days to give Harry a hand with some bits and pieces. First pub we went to over there cost equivalent of ten quid a pint for damned Heineken! Went to some other pubs, and the notorious 'four floors of whores' at Orchard Towers. With our usual knack for these things, the first place we ended up in was filled with ladyboys. Matt would have loved the place.
Many bars, a 7-11, and almost two thousand Sing Dollars later we were back at the hotel with a bag of lager and pringles. We sat on the roof in the biggest spa pool I have ever seen and shoved beer down our necks until 1am.
The next day, Harry was in meetings and I spent the day buying pies. Seventy-two of them to be honest. Later, just before heading to the ferry, we went shopping for one of the things that you just cannot get over here. Cheese. Spent almost 100 dollars between us on camembert, roquefort, Jarlsberg, port salut, and some gouda. When I got home I stuffed my face with stinky cheesiness.
You'd have to know how much I love cheese to fully understand this.
Will post more soon.
Big love.

Goddamn darts

Went out buying some supplies for Harry’s new office today, including some stupid shit, like a lamp that looks like it is constantly pouring beer into a mug, and of course, the main item that any office requires, a dartboard. As well as all the electrical equipment we bought, there was some desk tidies and suchlike. When we got it back to the office, the most important thing was to get the humorous lamp working. Of course, the damn thing lit up, but didn’t actually pour beer at all. Thoroughly disappointed with this, i decided to at least get the dartboard hung somewhere. Having found a convenient nail, i proceeded to assemble the darts. Not the trickiest of jobs and i was ready to go in mere minutes. Having gauged myself an oche, i slung the ol’ arrows. One by one they bounced out of the board. Bollocks! So tried again. Net result, three darts on the floor. Now, getting a mite pissed that two things i wanted to play with were non-operational, i investigated the darts a little further. Turns out that they had little plastic covers to protect the pointy bits. Threw again – 180! Probably only the second time in my life. And the only company i had was an Indonesian lad who had no fucking clue why the white man was screaming and doing a little dance chanting ‘wuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnn huuuuuuundreeeeeed and aaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyytttteyyyyyy’. Sometimes there is no justice in life!