Monthly Archives: July 2013

As far as going off course actually goes, I’ve gone.  I’ve arrived in little England, and it’s a total shit-hole.  A playground for chavs and stupid British teenagers which needs to be bombed off the map. Nay, not bombed;  Napalmed.  These nob heads need to burn before they can breed.  I can’t move for singlet …

So I’m standing in a pink circle dressed in a pink toga watching two Greek guys do something I can only presume is a traditional dance.  Which is probably pink.  Then everyone drinks a shit load of pink Ouzo from an industrial size cooking pot, before plates are smashed over your head by a guy …

I’m sat in a place called The Pink Palace, in Corfu.  Corfu I hear you balk?  Yes dear readers I am well aware just how far out of my hitchhike to India I am.  I’m sat recovering from a two day fever (apparently called Corflu), nursing mossie bites the size of golf balls on my …