Tag Archives: fish

Welcome to Paradise

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Travelling can never be simple for me. If everything went to schedule I’d be catching a taxi to the airport, a plane back to Kuala Lumpur, another plane to Kota Bharu on Malaysia’s west coast, a taxi to a tiny little town called Kuala Besut, and then a boat out to the beautiful Perhentian Islands. But there was a possible problem between me and the final destination of my adventure – the time between landing in KL and jumping on the next flight was a slim 95 minutes and if anything went wrong there, I could say goodbye to a one of my three nights on the islands. Even Clementine Ford’s bedsprings aren’t under that much pressure.

I got my shit together and walked out of my room, and was shocked to see a huge pile of garbage opposite my door. As I walked past, fuck me, one of the bags moved! When I looked closer, it wasn’t a black plastic bag full of garbage at all, it was a black plastic bag full of sweaty, naked Cled. For some reason he was wearing the bag as a sort of one-piece suit and was hiding in amongst the rubbish, doing his best to not be seen.

“Cled, mate, what’s the deal with your clobber?” I asked, and he pretended like he’d just seen me.

“Oh, this? Everyone’s wearing garbage bags this season,” he swanned, then blushed.

“That’s a load of crap, what’s the real story?”

“Alright, but keep this on the down-low. The girls,” and as he said this, he raised his hands, “wanted a bit of public sex. You know how kinky chicks can get. So I took them out and we had a saucy threesome in the lift.”

“Alright, and then what happened?”

“Well, my body may be beautiful and sensual and covered in a fine layer of fur, but it doesn’t have any pockets to put keys in, so I was locked out of my room.”

“So you decided to climb into a dirty garbage bag and sit in a pile of rubbish?”

“I figured the cleaners would be around at some point, and when they opened the door I could sneak in like nothing happened.”

“Oh yeah, there’s nothing as inconspicuous as an obese American climbing buck-naked out of a fucking garbage bag.”

“Glad you agree, buddy.”

“See ya, Cled.”

“Oh, you’re going? Have a safe trip.” With that, he stood up and a gentle breeze lifted the bottom of his bag dress, exposing the tiniest, hairiest little cock the world has ever been cursed with. He chucked out a hand, and I politely declined. Shit, I almost cut my hand off after touching him the first time, so I didn’t need to do it again.

Spoiler alert: I made the flight
Spoiler alert: I made the flight

I mate it to the airport alright, but or some absolutely batshit crazy reason the good people of Brunei don’t use scanners to check carry-on luggage before the flight. Instead, they had two or three little blokes who would open up ever pocket of every bag and rifle through it. And they were slower than a retarded turtle. The woman who checked my bag  grabbed a pair of my undies and gave me a big smile, but I wasn’t in any mood for returning the grin, and it wasn’t just because of the skidmarks.

I made it onto the plane, took my seat and waited while the other passengers s l o w l y filed in. Our departure time came and went, and still people were climbing on. Ten minutes late… 15… 20. Finally, 22 minutes after we were supposed to have pissed off, the doors closed and we started moving off. Crap.

As you can guess, it wasn’t a particularly fun trip. For the next hour, I was on the edge of my sleep like a bloke with haemorrhoids. We landed, I pushed my way through the other passengers and sprinted the 2km to the baggage terminal, dodging fatties and diving past strollers and champions in wheelchairs. I cleared customs in seconds, got my bag without too much trouble, and blazed my way to the other side of the airport to check-in. Tick, tock, the clock counted down. With only minutes till check-in closed, I made it to the counter…where a dozen fat, useless pricks were flobbing around in front of me. To make it worse, another half-dozen chubsters pushed in front of me, claiming they were there with some prick in front of me. I told them to get fucked. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

To your right, you will see the River Phoenix
To your right, you will see the River Phoenix

The check-in time passed. I’d missed my flight. I wouldn’t make it to Kuala Besut in time for the last boat. I’d be stuck in a rubbish little town for the night rather than a beautiful island paradise. I might even get raped. And all because of the incompetence and selfishness of others.

And then an angel appeared. A spunky young chick walked over and asked if anyone desperately needed to check in, and then took me to an emergency counter. I handed over my details, and the girl smiled. Hoo-fucken-ray, I made it onto the plane just as it was about to taxi out! I didn’t get the spunky young chick’s name, but ya can’t win ’em all.

With that out of the way, the flight was relaxing, and before long I was in delightful Kota Bharu. I say it’s delightful, but I wouldn’t have a clue, because I jumped in a cab and pointed him towards the village of Besut, an hour south. As the towns and villages rolled past, I was obvious the eastern side of the island is very different from the west. Almost everybody was in traditional islamic dress and mosques decorated the skyline.

Look at all the fun things there are to do!
Look at all the fun things there are to do!

I’d heard that Kuala Besut was a boring little nothing place that was only worth staying at if you missed the last boat to the islands, and they weren’t wrong. I had a decent amount of time to kill there till I set sail, and after five minutes I was bored out of my skull. There’s one main road with a handful of shops, a couple of deserted side streets, a polluted beach and… that’s it. There wasn’t even an ATM, which was kind of shitty since I knew there wouldn’t be one on the Perhentians, and I barely had enough dosh in my wallet to pay for my accommodation and food. Shit.

Alright, it's not all bad...
Alright, it’s not all bad…

The boat finally rocked up, I dragged my suitcase onto it, and we set out into the blue. And, as we drew close to the Perhentians, it was astonishingly beautiful. I’ve been to Thailand, Vietnam and Newcastle, but nothing could prepare me for the unspeakable glory of these islands. Rainforest-covered mountains climbed out of crystal-clear water before my eyes. Thousands of fish danced below me, while cute little huts hugged the beach, with just a smattering of suntanned visitors wandering along the sand or snorkeling. It was like a computer screensaver come to life, but I definitely wasn’t sitting at my desk.

The beautiful Perhentian Islands
The beautiful Perhentian Islands

The little boat dropped off a handful of people at different beaches, and then we puttered along to Petani Beach, which was perhaps the most wonderful of them all. At the eastern end a dozen bright red bungalows ran up the hill and disappeared into the forest. In the middle sat six tiny, rustic huts that looked like they’d been washed up in the last high tide – my accommodation. Not a person was to be seen, and it was exactly what I’d hoped it would be. It was, in a word, paradise.

The captain of the boat honked his horn and a little Malaysian dude came rushing out of one of the huts. He dived into a dinghy and came out to meet us, and I carefully stepped into his ride, making sure not to fall into the bright blue ocean beneath me.

I believe I was making this 'rap gesture' to mimic pro wrestler Amazing Red. I'm single, ladies...
I believe I was making this ‘rap gesture’ to mimic pro wrestler Amazing Red. I’m single, ladies…

He introduced himself as Ebu, and after a short but fun blast, I was dragging my can-filled suitcase along the most wonderful beach I’d ever seen.

I walked into a hut that looked like it must’ve been the front office, and was appalled to see a bloke choking the chicken in his living room. What, no, don’t have such a dirty mind! He wasn’t masturbating, he was actually choking a chicken so he could cook it for his dinner. After Ebu raced over to tell me I’d just wandered into some strangers house uninvited, he led me to my room and handed me a towel and a snorkel set. No key, but then a key wouldn’t be much use when my door didn’t have a lock on it.

What a bunch of clowns!
What a bunch of clowns!

Wasting no time, I changed into my boardies and raced the 15m to the beach, then dived into the water. It was wonderfully warm, and incredibly relaxing after a long day of travelling, but I wasn’t here to splash around like a downie in a bath, I was here to see some fish! And shit, did I see some fish! Just a few metres from the shore was a reef that was absolutely crawling with thousands upon thousands of the scaly little bastards. There were clown fish, blue fish… ah, red fish. I even saw a sea cucumber, but enough about my penis.

Life under the surface of the water was every bit as wondrous as the mountains and beaches that rose above it, but far, far busier. I spent over an hour just following fish around, taking photos and generally just floating around with a big, goofy look on my face. When I finally got out I relaxed on the beach, dividing my attention between my book and the spunky, bikini-clad babes spread out on the towels next to me. I got so turned on that I almost had to rub my sea cucumber.

Hardcore prawns
Hardcore prawns

With the sun setting, I had a cold shower and headed over to Petani Beach’s only restaurant, a wonderful little wooden shack that’s completely open to the beach and made entirely of driftwood. The sunset was astonishing, and after a seafood dinner I decided to see what the island offered in the way of nightlife.

There’s only two ways off Petani Beach at that time of night – a bush path to the east, and one to the west. Both were pitch black and scary-looking, but I took the one to the west and walked blindly through the gloom, with only my mobile phone for light. After an hour I found the main backpacker beach, which wasn’t exactly Surfers Paradise, but there were a few little bars that served the liquid medicine I required – beer, glorious fucken beer! And there were also girls, glorious fucken girls!

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Words simply can’t describe this place

An hour later I was shitfaced and dancing like a fucktard on the beach, when one of the hot Germans from Petani walked up and started dancing with me.

“Hello,” she said in a voice that made me think she wanted to either suck my dick till my eyes exploded, or murder me. “My friend and I, we see you back at resort. You masturbate in water?”

“Uh, yeah,” I blushed.

“Were you thinking of us.”

“Sure was.”

“What were you thinking about us doing.”

“I was thinking about slamming you harder than a sledgehammer into the Berlin wall.” Smooth.

Good old-fashioned romance won the day, and the chick said we should probably get back to our shacks – and that her mate should come with us. Ooh la la, as the Germans say.

Things were looking great for the Row Show, and I would’ve had a great night if it wasn’t for that bloody hour-long walk through the darkness. My torch gave up halfway back, the moon wasn’t nearly strong enough to light our way, and it wasn’t long before Helga and Eva (or whatever their fucken names are) tripped over a root and slid down a muddy slope, ending up in the ocean at the bottom. I, of course, acted like a perfect gentleman and laughed my arse off, which obviously wasn’t the correct response, because when we got back they went into Ebu’s hut instead of mine.

Easily confused, those Germans.

I never want to go home
I never want to go home

I wrote this back in May, 2012. I wish it was still May, 2012.

Show us ya snorkel!

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I woke up bright and early, had a quick breakfast of cereal and tropical fruit, then boarded a gigantic bus for a day of sun and chasing fish around in the clear blue sea. I was late, of course, but after 29 years of that, why change?

We drove over to Langkawi’s ferry terminal, boarded a boat, and I ended up sitting next to Lenny, a very fat Pom wearing a Battlestar Galactica shirt with tomato sauce stains all down the front. He was a nice bloke, but he did admit one thing –- he was here on a sex tour. He’d already been to Thailand and Cambodia, and was having sex with different prostitutes in each place. He even acted out a few of his ‘conquests’, leading me to suspect that the tomato sauce may not have been tomato sauce at all, and was actually the blood of some poor prostitute.

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If this ain’t paradise, it’s pretty damn close

The boat arrived at a gorgeous island in the middle of the ocean, and even as I walked along the boardwalk to the beach, I could see all sorts of weird aquatic creatures splashing around beneath me. Excitement turned to disappointment, however, when I saw that the tour company had set up a dinky little roped-off area for us to swim in. The island itself was adorable, but they’d set aside an area about as big as a basketball court for us to snorkel in, and it had about six fish in it.

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Rats in a very wet cage

So, just as I had at the Great Wall, I broke out of jail and went exploring on my own, and it actually turned out to be a really good adventure. The further away from the ropes I got, the more coral and fish I saw. Angel fish, clown fish, gigantic blue fish, sea cucumbers (no, I’m not talking about my penis) and all sorts of other aquatic abominations fluttered around me. I made it to the other side of the island and it was like I was the only person on the planet. At one point, thousands of tiny silver fish raced in a circle around me, and it was truly magical. I even found a secluded little beach to explore!

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Doing my best Tom Hanks impression. No, not from bloody Philadelphia, from that movie where he was stuck on the island

I barely made it back in time for lunch, then set out to go even further around the island. There were even more fish of every description, and I had a grand time hovering around and taking photos of them. It was exactly what I had come for, and yet more proof that it’s never a good idea to stick to the rules.

After chasing a bright red fish for a good 10 minutes, I checked my camera and saw that it was 2:52, and the boat was pissing off at three. And I don’t think Malaysian tour operators really give a shit whether they leave someone behind or not.

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There’s the fish, but where are the chips?

With visions of being left on the island to be eaten by savages (and not in the good way), I cranked the engines and absolutely belted it back to the beach. Seriously, the Thorpedo would’ve been proud of me. I looked up to see the last tourist climbing from the pier onto the boat, but there was still 100 or so metres between me and the shore. I put my head down and zoomed along faster than Michael Phelps on speed and hit the beach, then raced along the jetty just as the boat was pulling out. One of the guides was yelling out, ““You too late! We see you tomorrow!”” but he didn’t know that, if need be, I’m also a world-beating long jumper. I launched myself off the end of the pier, cleared about seven metres of water, and came crashing down on top of a fat bloke on the deck of the boat. I’d made it, and from the look on the fat bloke’s face, I’d made his day, too.

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Holy shit, it’s a flying shark!

On the way back I had another chat to Lenny, who asked if I was keen to “Go halvsies” with him in a hooker, and told him I’d have to give it a miss! Good bloke, that Lenny.

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At least I was able to keep this meal down

After getting dropped off, I had a short nap, snapped some photos of the sunset (and ‘accidentally’ managed to get some photos of a topless Malaysian sheila in there) and then had dinner at a beachside restaurant next to the one I’d visited the night before. You know, the one where the chef poisoned me for making a witty comment to his girlfriend, only for me to go back a few hours later and shit and spew all over their tables as revenge. As I tucked into my calamari rings and sipped on my cocktail, they stood a few metres away, shaking their fists and yelling at me in a language I couldn’t understand. I just raised my glass and blew them a loud raspberry, which made the chef take off his silly white hat, chuck it on the ground and step on it angrily.

And that was the end of my trip to Langkawi.

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Goodnight, sun!

A woman laughed at my penis (so what’s new?)

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I must’ve been a good boy, because the big fella upstairs decided to present me with bright sunshine when I woke up. After 10 days of rain and shittiness, I didn’t quite understand what I was seeing, but made the most of it by getting out there and exploring Nusa Lembongan.

I wanted to go snorkelling, but the thought of going out with a tour group full of Japs wearing floaties didn’t appeal, so I just wandered up to the north of the island, looking for somewhere to go for a dip. As I swaggered along, I saw Malcolm McDowell’s twin sitting at a table with a coffee in his hand. “It’s not too late to have an encounter with ‘The Human Vacuum Cleaner,’” he purred, then made loud sucking sounds. I hurried to my destination.

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Unlike Penida, Lembongan is largely rubbish for snorkelling, but there’s a good spot out behind the mangroves at the top of the island, and that’s where I went. I just looked for the tour boats a couple of hundred metres from the shore and splashed out there, and when I made it, I got quite a treat. Plenty of coral, buckets of fish, and a nice snork was had by all.

Being the mature, sophisticated gentleman I am, I decided to take a photo of myself underwater with my cock out. So I set the camera up in an area full of fish, swam past it and pulled out my knob just as it went off (the camera, not my knob). I thought I was pretty clever, until I resurfaced and realised that a Japanese woman was swimming about three metres away and had seen the whole thing.

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She just looked at me, smirked, and said, “In didn’t think the water was that cold,” and ducked under the waves. I think she wanted me.

As I was walking back to my hotel, an old local bloke with some sort of massive growth on his face stopped his bike next to me and said the obligatory, “You want ride?”
“I’d love a ride,” I replied. “But I don’t have any money.”
“No money, no honey,” he squeaked, then blew me a kiss.

My afternoon was somewhat less relaxing, however. I’m heading to the Gili Islands tomorrow, and getting a ticket was more hassle than it should’ve been (big fucking surprise, this Asia, where even cooking two minute noodles take six hours and involves a stop-over at some dickhead’s shop). The locals around this place swoop on you like seagulls when they want to sell you a boat trip or rent you a bike, but they’re no help whatsoever if there’s not a cent in it for them. I always hear about how helpful the people are over here but, fuck that, only when there’s money in it.

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