Fuk u, oka!


After nearly getting fisted by an angry customs official upon entering Japan, i was determined to turn things around by having a killer first day in Fukuoka. And I did it, my friends, by having a day that was as a rich kid’s stocking on Christmas morning. Turns out this city has heaps to see and plenty to do around this glorious metropolis, so it’s no wonder that it was chosen to host the 1997 Pan Pacific Swimming Championships.

Japan still stands by the Asian ideal of just chucking powerlines any-fuckin’-where

The Japanese are best known these days for killer robots and strange dancing, but they can boast a proud history full of samarais and ninjas and demons and all that cool stuff. So when I found out there’s an ancient castle in Fukuoka, I jumped on my Segway and zoomed over there. There’s not much of it left, which is no surprise seeing as it was built in the 1600s, but there’s one little tower that gives an idea of the grandeur of what was a fantastic structure. I’ve got a degree in history so I like this sort of stuff like this, and it was humbling to take a moment to think about the battles that had taken place on that hill. I bet someone’s head got chopped off.

This is my new home

Next to the castle is Ohori Park, which provides a tranquil diversion from the endless city. There’s an island in the middle of the lake and little boats shaped like swans and it’s really nice. I was feeling a bit tired from all the excitement and lay down by the water for a nap, and no one had stolen my wallet when I woke up. You wouldn’t get that if you decided to pass out in a park in Wyong.

If this was Australia, teenagers would be smoking bongs in there

I was just swaggering along, minding my own business, not bothering anyone, not looking for trouble, when I saw someone who turned my head. She had a great figure and a lettuce on her head. I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t crack onto her, so I walked over, gave her my cheekiest smile and asked, “Lettuce have a feel, luv?” Her response was stony, so I left, cold and alone.

This is why they didn’t wanna let me into Japan

Momochi Beach is nice and close to downtown Fukuoka, but it’s surprisingly nice. There are no waves and I didn’t see any topless birds there – believe me, I looked – but it has plenty of sand and none of the used needles and filthy BandAids that decorate most Asian beaches. There are restaurants and a 7-Eleven that sells cheap booze, and I hung out on the sand for a while, getting pissed and telling my best jokes to some Japanese chicks. They didn’t know enough English to get offended, but still left when I waded into the water to urinate like some sort of sex pest.

Here’s another place that’s too expensive for me

Everyone knows that Japan is full of robots – both good and evil – so I was a bit surprised to be able to wander down the street without being obliterated by lase beams shot from the eyes of a 200m-tall metal menace. So it was quite reassuring when I happened across the Robosquare, which promised the wildest selection of titanium troublemakers on the planet. I haven’t been so disappointed since the fifth time my dad took me to Wiseman’s Ferry – there was one little robot that looked at me sadly when I walked near, a few Transformers action figures, and a very apologetic Japanese women. I left in disgust.

I’m having flashbacks to that shit movie, Bicentennial Man. Bloody hell, Robin Williams made some crap movies, didn’t he? Like that Patch Adams turd. Who could possibly enjoy a slap like that?

While the robot extravaganza is as disappointing as ever Adam Sandler movie since The Wedding Singer, it stands in the shadows of something that vertainly is not a a let down. The Fukuoka Tower is tall enough to befit such a name, and offers a view over the sprawling metropolis that makes it hard not to fall in love with the place. I don’t like cities, but damn, they can look just as pretty as a new girlfriend’s smile at night time.

Tall and pretty like a Norwegian beach volleyballer

The place I’m staying at is interesting. It’s in Fukuoka’s redlight district and is basically a hotel where blokes can fuck prostitutes. I’m in a capsule that’s barely big enough for me to fart in, and 20cm away some fat Jap businessman is sweating all over some gorgeous 19-year-old trying to pay her way through uni. Blokes are swaggering around in dressing gowns and there’s a communal shower where all the fellas soap each other up and cuddle. The entire place is silent, yet there’s a corner where the men dance with each other. It’s weird. And I was the one who got in trouble – for wearing my thongs in the hallway!

They don’t celebrate Earth Hour in Japan

I was getting a drink of water when a group of blokes in dressing gowns beckoned me into the common room. I didn’t have anything to lose, so I went over and sat with them, and then a really old dude started massaging me. I was torn between not wanting to offend the fella and my desire not to be raped, so I let him do his thing and got the fuck out of there at the first opportunity.

Enjoying my capsule experience. Not the can of extra strength alcohol on the shelf behind me. It’s cheap and delicious, just like me!

Staying in a sex hotel is weird, but if I hadn’t come here I never encountered the love of my life, Sion Fujimoto, who appears on a pamphlet placed above my bed. She’s a Japanese porn star and hotter than a steering wheel on a summer day. I plan to marry her, just as soon as she stops having unprotected sex with really, really, really old dudes. Sion, hit me up!

Sion better rinse herself off before we get married, because I don’t wanna taste old man dick when we have that wedding kiss


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