Category Archives: South Korea

Escaping Korea


I spent my final evening in South Korea participating in the traditional Asian activity of getting drunk while watching the NRL grand final. When the Sharkies finally broke their 50-year duck to claim the trophy, Busan erupted in massive applause and people started wildly in the streets. Alright, they do that every evening over here, but I’m still going to put it down the football. It’s no wonder they call this place ‘The Shire of the East’.

We’re just friends, I swear

It was a big night and I woke up this morning with a sore head and the phone number of some bloke named Wong written on my arm in pink texta. There was a ferry to Japan with my name on it, but there was one more place I wanted to go before bidding farewell to Korea forever; the mighty Busan Tower. At 118m the word ‘tower’ is slightly ambitious, but it’s the symbol of the city and I really wanted to check it out before pissing off. I’m glad I did, because it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I will never forget.

I’m taller than the bloody thing!

Despite being only slightly taller than popular basketballman Andrew Gaze, the Tower offers exceptional views out over the city and the harbour, and is well worth the $5 it costs to take the very slow ride to the top. I took a moment to look  out over the city and reflect upon my time in Korea. It’s a surprising land with towering mountains and crowded streets, lovely people and fantastic food, cutting-edge technology and ancient history. It’s not a place many people think of as a must-see destination, but it’s a top place. I mean, bloody hell, heaps of people go to India and it’s an absolute shit tip.

I’m sure they could fit a few more buildings in there if they tried

I farewelled Korea and boarded a hydrofoil for the three-hour trip across Sea of Japan to Fukuoka. There’s not much to see other than endless grey water, but I was able to enjoy the 2015 cinematic classic The Intern, in which Robert De Niro plays Anne Hathaway’s office assistant. I kept waiting for him to go all Travis Bickle and shoot up the office, but it never happened. For some weird reason, Bobby spoke Japanese the whole movie, which didn’t help the plot progression. But I ended up getting all the drama I needed as soon as I got into the port.

Cruising into Fukuoka

I obviously look like a drug mule, because I get singled out by customs wherever I go, and Japan’s no exception. First I had my bagged ransacked in front of everyone, before being hauled off to a secret room to be interrogated in a secret room by three officers for nearly an hour. The went through my bag a few times, demanded to know why I was in Japan and where I was going, and went over my drug history time after time (there’s not a lot to say). They even pulled out a chart with photos of various drugs on it, trying to find out how much I knew about each one. I wasn’t worried because I knew I’d done nothing wrong, but there was a chance that an Oriental man would put his hand up my anus, so it wasn’t the most relaxing way to spend an afternoon.

Lots of building, fuckloads of neon, but not a meat pie to be found

Fortunately, Fukuoka has proven to be a less painful experience. I was kinda hoping Japan would be full of giant robots shooting lasers from their eyes and dancing schoolgirls with tentacles for legs, but it must be their day off. What I’ve found instead is an impressive city full of people playing Pokemon GO, but I’ll have a full review once I’ve had a bit of a chance to check it out. Now I need a drink to calm my nerves after going frightfully close to having a Jap up me…



Sleeping on the floor like the dog I am


Here’s a fun fact about the Koreans; they sleep on the fuckin’ floor! No bed, no inflatable mattress, they just chuck a thin bit of material on the tiles and away they go for eight hours in Napland. I’m a big fan of experiencing other cultures – I once slept with a girl from New Zealand – so when I was looking for a hotel in Busan, I decided to go for one with traditional Korean bedding. The fact it was the cheapest joint I could find was another factor, but mainly I just wanted an authentic experience.

Killing it at Tinder

Having a serious drinking problem means that I’ve slept (alright, passed out) on a lot of floors, so I didn’t think it would be a problem. I expected traditional Korean sleeping arrangements to be a bit like when you crash at a mates place and he gives you one of those thin, shitty mattresses to sleep on, along with a bright red doona with mysterious white stains on it. But the ‘bedding’ here has no cushioning at all. I now know how dogs feel when they’re forced to sleep on poo-stained mats beside the back door.

No Pikachu were harmed. One, however, was brutally raped and will require years of physical end emotional treatment in order before becoming an active member of society again

It’s no wonder the Korean birthrate is dropping, because rooting a chick on the hard floor wouldn’t be much fun at all. Doggy style is only going to lead to sore knees for all concerned, and the reverse piledriver is a disaster waiting to happen. They seriously need to look at their bedroom habits, or else the terrorists will win.

There are probably heaps of big-titted spunks bopping around when the sun is out. When it’s raining, the beach is full of pigeons and homeless dudes

As for Busan, it looks like a great place, with plenty of beaches and lots of restaurants. I can’t tell you much more than that, because the weather’s followed me and it’s absolutely pissing down outside. I haven’t even been able to head down the street to get something to eat, so I’ve basically been sitting here on my mat watching Korean TV and feeling sorry for myself. I might have to set up a GoFundMe page to get people to pay for some home delivery Korean BBQ.

It’s common for couples in Asialand to dress identically. It makes it easy to find each other in crowded places; they can go up to the dude at the front desk and ask him, “Have you seen someone dressed exactly like this?” I wouldn’t have a relationship with someone who dresses like me, because the only chicks who wear singlets and cargo shorts are lady-gays

The world’s stupoidest man climbs a mountain


I can be a real dickhead sometimes, but it seems that I’m dopiest when I decide to walk somewhere that I shouldn’t walk. I tried walking up Hobart’s 1200m Mt Wellington after an all-night drinking session and ended up vomiting in a bush and being attacked by a deranged Polish dude. I tried circumnavigating Slovenia by foot and ended up rooting my ankle to the point I’ll probably need to have a robotic one put in. And for my latest and greatest trick, I spent six hours walking through the pouring rain in Korea. Mensa, have your certificate back.

Cable car to nowhere…

Seoraksan National Park, near Sokcho on the neartheast coast, is famous for its mountains and diverse flora and fauna, and apparently quite beautiful. I was planning to head out there yesterday but, due to a few clouds hanging around, I decided to put my plans back ago. Great idea, that one. I woke up to the sound of driving rain, but headed out there anyway, figuring things could only get better.

Buddhist temple, but where are the Buddhists?

That’s like taking Rebel Wilson home from a nightclub and telling yourswlf she’ll probably look better with her gear off. In fact, the rain hasn’t stopped for a minute in the past 16 hours. Faced with either heading out into the wilderness or sitting on my arse, I chose the former. I bought a bright blue poncho that made me look like a kiddie fiddler and started marching up Ulsanbawi, one of the tallest peaks in the park. It’s meant to be a four-hour return trip, but with rivers of sludge pushing me back down the mountain, it took far longer. I was wet and miserable, I could see nothing around me, I looked stupid, but still I pushed on.

There are at least four trees in this photo

Incredibly, I wasn’t the only person walking around the park. There were hundreds of Koreans stalking the bottom of the park, and I passed half a dozen people as I climbed further into the clouds. It was a perfect day to sit inside and watch as many episodes of Shameless (the proper one, not the shit American remake) as possible, but all these people were out and about in nature. I guess we’re all fools.

That’s a fuckload of stairs!

Along the trail is a massive (and very impressive) Buddha statue that sits guard over the forest. With the view out over the mountains largely obscured by the conditions, it was this monument that was the most impressive thing I saw all day. Many people come just to visit the big fella, but for me there was only one goal – the top of the mountain, way up there amongst the murk.

A man worshipped by millions… and Buddha!

When I got to the peak, the clouds and rain were so thick that I could barely see my hand in front of my face, and I could’ve been 50m above the ground, not 750m. If I’d been smart I would’ve taken a photo of myself at the bottom, fucked off to the pub for a beer, and then bragged to anyone who would listen about making it all the way to the top. But no, I had to spend a few hours trudging through rain so that I could get to the top and see bloody nothin’.

Look at the view!

Oh, and if you’re wondering, this is what the view from the top looks like when the entire area isn’t enveloped in a monsoon. Yeah, it’s a little better than what I saw, but whoever took the photo probably has a small penis and isn’t nearly as cool as me, so fuck ‘im.


 I didn’t get to experience the beauty of the park or see all the wonderful things, but I did have an adventure. I slogged through a torrential downpour for hours and still made it to the top of the mountain, and that’s all that really matters. Maybe I’m just trying to make myself feel better about the missed opportunities that happen all too often while travelling, but bad conditions and getting chased by weirdos and bus rides from hell are half the fun of it as far as I’m concerned. But if it could stop raining for five minutes, that would be sweet.

It’s raining in Sokcho, so I had sex with all of their statues


I love travelling. It’s heaps of fun and beats the shit out of sitting in an office or being a hippie who spends all of his/her/its time fighting for gay marriage and transgender rights and crap like that. But things don’t always go to plan when out on the road, and things to have to change. That’s been the case during my time in the town of Sokcho, in the northeast of South Korea.

I love Sokcho thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much

I came here to visit the nearby Seoraksan National park, which is apparently lovely and has all sorts of mountains and trees and animals and rivers to explore. It was a great plan, until I woke up this morning to find it absolutely pouring outside. The idea of swaggering around in the bush all day sounded as inviting as performing oral sex on Susan Boyle, so I had to come up with an alternative. I figured there’s a whole town out there just waiting to be checked out, so why not just start wandering and see what I find? It turned out to be a great idea, because there’s plenty to see and do around here.

Under the bridge downtown, I gave my life away

It turns out Sokcho is actually a delightful little city (there are 85,000 residents, but it’s a tourist mecca, so it’s more built up than that number would suggest). There are beaches, lakes, mountains and restaurants. It has a relaxed feel far removed from the mayhem of Seoul, and character that the capital is desperately lacking. The main part of the city can be walked around easily, and it’s a pleasant stroll through the winding streets, past fisherman and tanks full of crabs.

Checking out Asia’s finest crab restaurants

There’s a little hand-drawn ferry close to the centre of town that leads to a village full of weird North Korean outcasts. After having my heart broken by Kim Jong-un, I didn’t want to risk being hurt again, but it’s apparently a delightful place to visit, with some sort of squid-sausage delicacy that must be tried. I guess I’ll go to my death bed wondering what that tastes like, because I can’t imagine any set of events that would lead to me willingly eating a squid-sausage served by weird North Korean outcasts who live under a bridge.

It’s a ferry nice place to visit

I made it up to Sokcho’s lighthouse, which is a symbol of the city and provides a great outlook over the beaches and buildings. Well, it does in good weather. Even with the rain coming down, it’s a very pretty city, with the jagged mountains in the distance and all sorts of neon lights flashing everywhere. Sokcho has a real personality that makes it an awesome place to visit.

This is where the Lighthouse Family live

I do worry about the sorts of characters who rock up here, though. I found a sign for something called the ‘Romantic Road’ that had a very unusual message. I can only imagine that German incest advocate Josef Fritzl used to enjoy holidaying in Sokcho before he was locked up.

They have a similar sign in Tasmania

And then everything went wrong. I was strolling along, minding my own business, when a giant fish caught my eye. I knew I had to have sex with it, so I raced over and had my wicked way with the scaly scamp before racing off into the gloomy arvo before anyone could catch me.

We have lots of fins in common

Not far up the street was a statue of a dragon, with what appeared to be a man practicing felatio beneath it. Once again I was overcome by passion, and wasted no time making love to the metal hunk, while Koreans looked on in horror.

His technique is incredible

As the day slipped away, my afternoon of depraved statue raping caught up with me and I was in desperate need of a snack. I thought about having some fried prawns, or a bucket of crabs, but then I saw something that changed my life forever – a Dagwood Dog where, instead of batter, the sausage was encased in hot chips. I bought one, smothered it in tommo sauce and mustard, and bit in. Nothing compares to that first bite. Seriously, that thing was fucking grouse and I would crawl through barbed wire to get another one.

I can die happy after tasting heaven

Feeling full and happy, I floated back to my hotel, but on my way back I came across something curious. A statue that caught my eye, one that needed to be molested. I looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then unzipped my trousers and sped over for a moment of lustful thrusting. I got in position, threw up my thumb as the international symbol of romance, and just as I started having fun I heard a whistle. A little policeman in  a funny hat was running down the street, so I re-pantsed and got the fuck out of there before I could be thrown in a roach-infested Korean jail. I’m sick, I know it, I need help – but sex with statues just feels soooooooo gooooooooooooood!

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In a Bore-Zone: My trip to the Korean DMZ


I’ve been good mates with Kim Jong-un on Facebook for the last few years (I swear he’s the only person who still uses the ‘poke’ feature), so when I decided to come to South Korea I knew I had to pop across the border to say G’day. After consulting with locals, however, I decided that hopping the border would sharply decrease my chances of going home safely and greatly increase my chances of my intestines being blown out my eye sockets, so I instead signed up for a tour of the Demilitarised Zone and take things from there.

You wouldn’t wanna sit on this

Unfortunately, the tour was a bit of a bust. Alright, that’s being kind – it was shit. The only way to visit the DMZ is with one of the dozens of tour companies who take half-day tours there, and they’re all kind of crap. The problems are twofold; firstly, there are so many people visiting the sites at any time threat they’re little more than a crush of humanity. Secondly, the fact is that nothing in the DMZ is particularly interesting. By design it’s an area with basically nothing in it, and the few buildings feel more like tourist traps than actual historical sites. Even our guide, Dean Kang, seemed bored by it.

Kang does his thang

When Dean told us that we were going to visit the Third Tunnel, I asked him if that’s the arsehole, and he just rolled his eyes and kept going. As it turns out, it’s the third tunnel that the South Koreans discovered coming towards them from the north. They found it back in 1973, it’s about 1.6km along and 70 or so metres below the ground, and was intended to allow soldiers from the North to pour into the South and do them all sorts of nasties.

Warning: Asians with blurry faces ahead

For some reason that I can’t work out, cameras and phones are banned in the tunnel, so you’ll be spared selfies of me in a stupid yellow hard hat. The tunnel itself is as interesting as masturbating to Rosie O’Donnell porn – it really is just a tunnel full of an endless line of wheezing tourists. The most interesting thing about being there is watching gawky Asian bump their heads on the low roof. The seemingly endless walk through the darness ends up at something very boring indeed – a rock wall with a locked door. I haven’t felt so let down since reading the final pages of any Stephen King book ever.

This is pretty much what I looked like in my hat

The next stop on the DMZ Wonder Tour was a lookout that allowed us to have a peak at North Korea. It looks a bit like South Korea, really – no hordes of marching troops or giant nuclear missiles poking around menacingly. They have these big sets of binoculars, so I jumped behind a pair and did my best to spot Kimmy strutting around, but he was nowhere to be seen. I was crushed.

It could be East Korea as far as I know

With all that excitement out of the way it was obvious that Dean was trying to kill time, so he took us along to some train station that never had anything to do with North-South relations, other than to serve as a transit point for tourists from Seoul on a slightly more expensive tour. It was at this point that I saw my tour guide’s penis. I’d had four beers and badly needed to urinate, so I raced into the nearest toilet, where Dean was slipping his Old Yeller back into his trousers. He looked at me, I looked at him, and then he raced outside without washing his hands. It made things very awkward for the rest of the day, and Dean refused to look at me during any of his further speeches.

Bring beer to get you through the tour

The grand finale of this tour of the DMZ was a stop at some shitty ginseng factory, which had nothing to do with anything. I have no idea what the fuck ginseng is – some sort of root or something – and I don’t care, so I bought a few cans from a 7-Eleven around the corner and drank them in the parking lot while I waited for the others to finish up. I really needed a slash, so I pulled my dick out and wet the bus’s tyres just as Dean and the others came out of the factory.
“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine!” I told Dean, while manages to splash his shiny leather shoes.

Alright, this is a bit gay

The DMZ Tour is pretty shit, but it’s something that probably has to be done while in Seoul. The rigid timelines make it feel like a school excursion, most of the places they take you are boring and unnecessary, and it all comes across as more of a dodgy tourist attraction than a warzone, but it’s there and it sort of has to be seen. Just try to find a guide who doesn’t flash his knob around.

Kim Jong-un: Pokemon GO enthusiast

I caught the train back to Hapjeong Station, alone with my disappointment at not finding Kimmy. All those pokes were for nothing. I stepped out of the carriage, fumbled for my ticket, looked up, and then there he was. Kimmy, I discovered, had defected. He was waiting for me all that time and had given up his dream of being a genocidal dictator so that he could be with me. As I raced over his eyes lit up and his arms opened, ready to welcome me into the new life he had forged for himself. Then I noticed that his dick was hanging out of his pants, so I did a 180 and got the fuck out of there. I guess Kimmy headed back over the border and went back to his murderous ways. Shit, we could’ve had world peace if only that dickhead could’ve kept it in his fuckin’ pants.


Carnival of Seouls


After breaking into the Olympic Stadium, swaggering through Gangnam and stealing a hula hoop, I thought I’d seen and done everything Seoul has on offer – but I was as wrong as Bruce Jenner when he tells himself he looks like a real woman. Today I hit the road again to visit the Namdaemun Markets, see a frightening demonstration, and climb a giant tower. And I did it all with a hangover!

Right, where do I go to buy slaves?

The markets are tops, with people rushing all over the place, dudes clapping to get everyone’s attention, women selling Dagwood Dogs, and all sorts of clothes and bags and other crap to buy. Heading into the confusing maze of alleyways and dead ends and stairs was the first time I’ve felt Seoul is an actual Asian city. The rest of it is a bit sterile, but the markets are buzzing with life and well worth checking out. The street food rocks and the handbags looked very nice indeed.

She wants me

The Koreans are a bit weird – I guess having nuclear weapons pointed at you 24 hours a day isn’t great for the ol’ sanity – and it’s not unusual to see a group of people walking down the street dressed as robots, monkeys or superheroes. It’s just what they do, and I love them for it. So when I saw a couple who were obviously very much in love and dressed like space pilgrims, I just gave them a wave and went on my way.

No one else could ever love them

As I turned a corner I could hear all sorts of shouting and assumed there’d been a terrorist attack or a footy player had pulled his wang out or something, but was astonished to find a martial arts display in progress. Half-a-dozen little blokes in snazzy costumes were swinging swords around and chopping bamboo poles into bits. It was really impressive and I started cheering along with the crowd, but what really got me going was the fact one of the ninjas was a woman. I found her ability to fuck shit up to be strangely attractive, and when she was finished chopping up bamboo, I wandered over to ask her out on a date. When she started yelling at me and thrusting a spear in my face I ran away and hid in a bush, but thinking back on it, she was probably being quite receptive to my advances. That’s probably just how psychotic Asian sword-wielding babes let you know they’d love a drink.

She can chop me into bits any day

The N-Seoul Tower looms large over the city and is a symbol of pride and hope for the locals, so I made a point of getting to the top of it. I’ve been to some of the world’s great towers – the Oriental Pearl in Shanghai and whatever that one in Riga is, to name just two, so I rolled over to it and climbed in a cable car to take me to the top of the hill that it sits upon. If you’re ever in a position to head up the N-Seoul, don’t bother with the cable car unless you’re a massive fat cunt or something. It costs $8.50, the line-up is huge, the cart is packed with stinky Koreans, and you can’t see a thing out the windows anyway. Just walk up the stairs, which takes maybe 20 minutes, is free, and provides a nice look out over the city.


When I finally got up there I was met by a tower that’s identical in design to Canberra’s Telstra Tower. As I walked towards it, I felt as if I’d gone back in time to when I was in Year Six and went to Telstra Tower during an excursion to the national capital. I could only hope that, this time, upon reaching the top I wouldn’t be molested by Mr Peterson in the toilets and threatened with death if I told anyone. I looked around when I got up there, but could find no signs of the twisted tutor, so turned my sights instead to what I could see out the windows. Which was five-sevenths of fuck all, really, because there’s more air pollution in Seoul than in the toilet at the local Jenny Craig.

“Hey, I can see… uh, nothing from here”

The night ended with the Raiders losing to the Storm and me drowning my sorrows in a steaming mixture of warm beer and dumplings. My team got knocked out and the woman of my dreams packed up her swords and fell into the arms of another man, but I can’t get too worked up about it. Life moves on, adventures roll into experience, gentle breezes cause change, and in Korea Colonel Sanders is a fucking Asian. Goodnight, my lovers.

“It finger rickin’ good!”

Sweet Seoul Brother


Ever since I first saw that dickhead in the Gangnam Style video, I’ve wanted to punch his head in, so when I discovered Gangnam is a real place in Seoul, I decided to head there and throw him into an open sewer. Tragically, I didn’t find the dancing dork, but I did find endless alleyways full of restaurants serving noodles, fish, crab, nachos, steaks, and anything else you can imagine. Neon signs, inflatable cats, little dudes on delivery motorbikes, smiling Asians, traffic jams, pop music and weird shit by the truckload, Korea is a hell of a place.

‘Noodle Box’ hey… There’s a new name for a vagina

I strolled down meandering streets, dodging giggling schoolgirls and fat blokes in oversized sunglasses, checking out astonishingly high skyscrapers and scurrying past towering slums. I somehow found myself at the Olympic Stadium, where the Games were held back in 1988. That was the year Noodle Eating, Dancing to Crap Music and Who Has the Smallest Penis? were Olympic events, so it should come as no surprise that South Korea did really well that year.

The Greatest

I took a few photos of the outside of the Olympic Stadium, but when I saw some bloke stroll straight in the front doors, I followed him. I was met with a labarynth of old-fashioned coridoors as I passed the headquarters of Korean soccer, Korean basketball, and Korean AFL (just kidding, but ask a Victorian and he’ll tell you Korea’s five years from going singlet soccer mad) before finally finding myself in the middle of the stadium where Debbie Flintoff-King won the 400m hurdles. It was weird and deserted, a world away from the photos and videos I’ve seen of it during the ’88 Olympics. Then a security dude started yelling at me and I hoofed it out of there in a time that Debbie would be proud of.

Takin’ care of business

I was feeling absolutely famished, so I was stoked to find a shop selling Dagwood Dogs. Being Korea, I suspected that the name’s probably taken more literally than it is in Australia, but I was hungry and they looked good, so I ordered a couple. I had to stop the sheila behind the counter from dipping them in sugar, which is tantamount to marrying a supermodel and then making her wear a burqa, then sat down under a bridge to eat them. They were actually really nice, but a little bloke kept laughing at pointing at me while I ate. After a few minutes, he wandered off to the shop and bought one of his own, then came back and demonstrated the Korean way of eating a Daggy. He sucked the batter off it using a technique that Jesse Jane would be proud of, then licked the sausage and ate it in one bite. I was weirdly aroused and had to leave.

I love getting some meat in my mouth

When I finally escaped, I could hear music blasting from a nearby stadium, so I strolled over to have a gander. What I found inside was unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and really pretty special. Some dickheads were playing basketball in there, but that’s not what made it so cool; the arena was full to the brim with thousands of cheering Koreans, some in red, some in blue, and every single one of them was going mental. I’d stepped into the annual Korea University vs Yonsei match, which is one of the biggest sporting events on the Korean calendar. Each team had their own four-piece rock band blasting fight songs out to the crowd, as well as two sets of fully decked out superheroes who bopped around on top of stages, while fireworks and jets of steam shot throughout the place. I’ve been to some big footy games in Australia, but nothing even comes close to the atmosphere I experienced in there.

Alright, I lie. Cowboys vs Eels on a wet July night probably eclipses it.

Apparently there’s a basketball game going on

I ended the day with a walk along the Han River, which would be a lovely stroll if they hadn’t built a fucking six-lane road between the bank of the river and the water. A few thousand cars a minute wasn’t going to stop me having a good time, though, and when I found a bizarre outdoor gym populated by mask-wearing geriatrics. The equipment is really wacky, with the fogies doing oddball activities such as humping poles or spinning big wheels. It obviously works, because there aren’t many fat cunts in Korea, but it also looked like a scene from the world’s worst porno movie, so I got out of there before they could drop their trousers.

The Mr Olympia contest has been on a downward spiral

As I was walking home, I found a hula hoop and, overcome with the pulsating athletic atmosphere of Seoul, I picked it up and started spinning it on my hips. I was a bit shit at it, though, and after being laughed at by a bow-legged Asian in a shirt that said ‘What Make Fuck!’ I threw it in the river and went home to have a beer. You can’t win ’em all.

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I’m going to Japan!


The Drunk and Jobless World Tour™ has been on hiatus for the past few weeks, so that I could sit around in my undies getting drunk on cheap wine while laughing at all the trannies who compete in women’s athletics at the Olympics. But I can only do that for so long, so next week I’m heading off again on a most unusual adventure.

My first stop will be Bali,where last year I smashed a million bottles of Bintang, tried and failed to pick up every German chick on the island, and almost got hacked to death by machete-wielding maniacs. This time around things are going to be a bit different, because I’m going to have sex with even more ladyboys going to spent most of the time paragliding. The skies above Nusa Dua and Candi Dasa will be my playground for 14 epic days of flying with the Cloudbase crew.


From there, I’m going to head to South Korea (that’s the good one) and Japan for a month. Korea’s never really been on my radar, but why not explore it? There are brilliant national parks to frolic through, sprawling cities to get lost in, and delicious food to eat. I might even swagger over to the North Korean border and yell out to my little mate Kim Jong-un to let him know he’s a dickhead.

“I can see my friend, Mr Row Show Arjay LeRock! He wear no pants! Prepare the nukes!”

Japan is somewhere I’ve wanted to visit for a long time. It’s a land of bright lights and breathtaking natural beauty, of stunning technology and kooky mythology. I’m going to hike around Mount Fuji, visit a park where thousands of people have committed suicide (hopefully I’m not in a bad mood that day), and hopefully wind up on one of those wacky Nipponese game shows.

“Hey, Yuki, this brings back memories!”

I’m also hoping to go to a hardcore wrestling show, where the little Japanese blokes chase each other around with chainsaws and shove broken lightbulbs up their opponent’s blurter for no real reason. If I’m in the mood I might even get involved and win the championship. Why not?

It’s just a flesh wound!

More than anything, I hope to fall in love with and marry one of those gorgeous sex robots they have over there. You know, the ones that look like real women but wouldn’t dare refuse a blowie out of fear that you’d just pull their batteries out and kick them out the window. I just have to make sure I get one of the nice robots, and not a nasty one like in the classic 80s horror movie Chopping Mall.

Spoiler alert: their tits are fake

It’ll be seven weeks of awesomeness, and I really hope you’ll join me. I don’t actually want you to come along, of course – I’m sure you’re great company and it would be nice to have someone to split the accommodation bills with, but we’re not quite at that stage of our relationship yet – but it would be great if you could read about how much fun I’m having. Well, I’d better get back to smashing wine and watching replays of everyone’s favourite chick-with-a-dick – and Petero Civoniciva lookalike – Caster Semenya, outrunning a bunch of sheilas.

Semen on her chest, semen in her ballsack