Tag Archives: North Korea

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.


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