|Diary entries - 15|
|Not the South China Morning Post
|Dear Gentle Readers,
Here we are beginning a new year dizzying heading towards the new millennium with gay abandon. I wish you all the best gay abandonment that you are able to get for the next few years. According to my sources, we are all about to die in the year 2034, something to do with the dawning of the age of Aquarius (wasn’t there a song written about that ?)… so party, party and party till then girls.
Patsy doesn’t apologise for the lack of articles in the past few months… The amount of money, well actually the lack thereof, which we are paid doesn’t actually encourage such lonely souls as myself to sit in front of a type writer for a few hours each week for no actual compensation. However, due to the cries of public outcry at the scarcity of my columns, here is my latest offering:-
We, well that is my German friend ( remember the one with the schlonger) and myself decided to spend the Christmas period in the Pill-i-peens. What a bad choice for a destination of a holiday . If you ever hear anyone suggest that “I know of this FANTASTIC place, so cheap, the people so friendly, so little money needed”… Take my advice and run in the opposite direction.
There we were, stuck on Pill-I-peens airline for a day without another poof in sight, and that is only half the story.
We finally get to our destination and then are informed that we have to spend the next 41/2 hours with a local whilst he attempts to drive us to some ‘fantastic’ resort that ‘no one knows about’.
It is fortunate that the Pill-i-peens imports a regular quantity of replacement vehicle horns monthly otherwise we would never have made it the 80 kms there… I mean to say honking at a FABULOUS hunk on the side of the road is one thing, but attempting to warn crossing ants 3 kms away with a short toot of the horn seems rather pointless. We endured 41/2 hours of horn tooting and bad roads to this FABULOUS resort.
We arrived there, tired, bedraggled and Gin less ( yes sweetie darling, my German didn’t have the foresight to bring a bottle along with him for the journey). Luckily the only ‘Hotel’ which was available had to be THE best in ‘town’ and at those prices it had to be the best. We even had separate beds, towels and a shower with hot water…. Ah bliss.
After checking in we headed for the nearest bar / bars, hoping to find a few wayward boyz there. Alas not one in sight. Sweetie darlings I can tell you that the kind of person who goes to this resort is mainly German, overweight, hideous looking, talks a load of the preverbal and picks up the LBFMs. I kid you not……… no self respecting poof would be seen there.
Mind you my German friend did ‘befriend’ a local and was rendezvousing each evening with this pimply youth to do certain things with each others anatomies…. Shows what desperate times were had by us, fancy having to do the dastardly deeds under a Kampong in the middle of the night, they were lucky that no one above was doing their ablutions at the same time !!
Actually this reminds me of a story of a friend of mine who was on holiday in Mykonos. His other half was in the hotel room whilst my friend went of trolling at about 2am. He found a bit of flotsome on the beach.
Knowing that both other half’s were back in their rooms and desperation was setting in they looked around for somewhere to do the dastardly deed. Ah, a rubbish bin ( I kid you not !)
Well as fate would have it, there they were going at it like two rattle snakes when other friends walk past (most probably also looking for somewhere to have a quick shag) when they saw my friends arse sticking out of a pile of rubbish……… hmmmmm. Blush, blush… He’s now known as Rubbish Ruby.
A day trip to the waterfall (ho hum) and then onto the ‘white beach” to watch the local families (no not our family types) bath in full clothing, back to the ‘hotel’ a few apperatives before on the crawl again trying to locate more poofs, all to now avail.
Have you ever noticed how, at such times, even some of the most kyotee type of person becomes half respectable in your view… i.e. The person whom you normally wouldn’t be seen dead with, all of a sudden becomes ‘drop dead gorgeous’ ?
So there we were the only poofs in town, surrounded by hideous nasty looking Germans and Austrians with hardly a thing to do. Not exactly Ibiza , Gran Canaria, Mykonos or any of those other FABULOUS resorts where Mary’s are Mary’s and boyz will be girls.
Well what is the moral of the story ? Well firstly, don’t listen to friends of friens of friends advice about spending your valuable holiday time in places which you know nothing about. Secondly, never take advice from Hetrosexuals friends of friends of friends about holidays. Thirdly, make sure that you do some research into your travel plans. Fourthly , book a room prior to arrival and fifthly, but by no means lastly,,,, check that there is at least a slim possibility of finding a bit of trade, just in case you ‘need’ it.
Bye for now, keep it up and keep it safe.