On January 26th 1787, some chap named Arthur Phillips landed on a beach in a distant far away land. He was accompanied by Royal Marines and a bunch of convicts. The place they arrived at was called Botany Bay, you may know this place as Sydney, Australia. These were the first white men to settle on the island. Thus, every January 26th, our colonial cousins down under celebrate 'Australia Day'.
This day last year, I had the pleasure of celebrating Australia Day...in Israel. Bizarre I know. But I suppose it's no different to a bunch of English clowns celebrating St Patrick's Day (wankers). How did I end up celebrating the creation of the worlds biggest prison whilst living in the Holy Land? Well, we had three Aussies on the Kibbutz. And them being Aussies, basically needed a good reason to blag a day off work so they could get twatted all day long. So what better way to do this than to play up to the Israeli bosses heart by giving the whole "Oh, we really want to celebrate our country's heritage, just like you Israeli's do. You know how special this is to us. It's like an Australian Hannukah". Just like that, they all had the day of work and were allowed to organise a party. Bastards.
We all chipped in some shekels and bought a shit load of booze from Jish. I believe the Aussie's and a couple of others started drinking at about 11am. I, on the other hand, was packing apples like a dick. I was not best pleased. But I did manage to sneak out of the factory and run down to volunteers for a bit. I gave the bosses some bullshit excuse that I need to leave for half an hour, I honestly can't remember what the excuse was now, but it worked! So I quickly ran down to volunteers and cracked open a few tinnies. It was about 12-1pm and one of the French girls was absolutely wasted. She was hilarious, she usually had that French elegance about her. But right now she acting no different to a Geordie lass hitting the town on a Friday night... although I don't recall her glassing anybody for calling her a fat slag.
The Aussies were drinking beer and just generally being Aussies. One of them was a girl, who I shall call Sheila. Sheila is one of the funniest girls I know. Funny girls are hard to come by, no offence ladies. Sheila had a mouth like a cesspit (metaphorically of course). She could swear for England...actually that saying doesn't make sense here because she's an Aussie...so...she could swear for Australia. She would have me in stitches with her outrageous anecdotes about useless men in bed. I usually hate all this in girls, but somehow she manages to carry it off. I think the accent has something to do with it, it just suits Australian girls to be lary. Their great at banter.
The other two Aussies, Bruce 1 and Bruce 2, were probably some of the best mates I made there. I think that's because culturally I could relate to the Aussies the most, as our culture and history are very closely intertwined. For example, when we misbehaved as children, our parents would give us a slap. When the Europeans heard this, they went absolutely ape shit. "Oh my God your parents hit you!!! How could they do that?!!??!". Their reaction was as if we had been sexually molested, where as to us, it's merely just a slap and that's that. I suppose their not tough like us. Funny foreigners.
Anyway, back to the story. I went back to work feeling quite merry, but I had made a huge mistake. Because now I had got the taste for it, and I just wanted to get hammered. This made me clock watch, which then made time go ve...ry....sl...ve...ry...sl...ve...ry...sl...o...ve...sl...ry...very slow! But alas, the clock struck 4pm and I was out of the factory quicker than an ejaculating penis pulls out during unprotected sex. Now the fun was about to begin. Australia Day was probably one of the top 3 nights in the Kibbutz, I have really been looking forward to writing about it. But you know what? I can't remember much from it now! It's been a whole year since it happened. But fear not, I still remember the story that everyone who was there was talking about the next day. Which story is this exactly? Well it's no fairy tale, I can tell you that much.
I mentioned earlier, Bruce 1 and Bruce 2. Which title shall I give the man in this story? Well, after this stunt, I don't think he deserves the number 1 spot. So he shall be called Bruce 2. Now Bruce 2 had already done some pretty wild and disgusting things. He was already well renowned for vomiting at comical moments and going off on not so borderline racist rants once he had a few beers inside. On Australia Day, Bruce 2 bit off more than he could chew. Bruce 2 started drinking at about 11am, I recall coming home from work at 4pm and he was whining about drinking that whole time and not being drunk. He had a point, he wasn't pointing his finger 1 centimetre away from my face when making a point, so he must of been sober.
I was doing a bit of skirt chasing that night on some of the new volunteers, so I missed the exact point where 12 hours of drinking hit Bruce 2 like a 200mph cricket ball. He was in a bad way. I thought the worst had happened when he stripped down to his boxers (Aussie flag design) on the dance floor and was busting some pretty atrocious moves. I thought we could just laugh about that tomorrow and move on, but this was merely a warm-up.
After some HARD partying at the pub (wish I could remember it), we were all back at volunteers. I can't remember where I was going or why. But I heard some voices in my head, I started to freak out big time. I know this alcohol is potent, but voices?! Fuck, what if they tell me to burn things? Has someone spiked my drink?! Who the fuck has spiked my drink?! "Help...HELP!". Wait a minute, I know that voice. I turned to my right and saw an arm and a leg sticking out of a bush. I thought maybe Jack the Ripper had paid Baram a visit. But then I realised, on closer inspection, that the arm and leg were attached to a body; Bruce 2's body.
Me:"Bruce?! (I will just call him Bruce now) How the fuck did you end up down there?!"
Bruce: "Goymer?! GOYMER! Goymer help me please! I'm stuck!"
I don't know what the hell had happened to me, but I actually felt quite sorry for the lad. So I helped my fallen comrade up and helped walk him to our room (he was my room mate). I laid him down, and then thought that would be the end of it. I was hoping it was, because I had a lady friend present and he really was killing the mood. But you know pissheads; they just don't know when the game is over. He started to get out of bed.
Me: "What are you doing?!"
Bruce: "I need the toilet" *falls on floor out of bed*
Me: For fucks sake Bruce, stay in bed!
Bruce: No! I need the toilet!
Me: Alright, let me walk you there
I've seriously never seen someone this bad. If I let go of him, he went falling arse over tit. So I was his human walking stick. I led him to the toilet and told him to give me a shout if he needs a hand walking back (I was getting pretty fed up by this point). So I went back to my room and was chilling with my rather fit lady friend, but nothing could happen between us yet, because Bruce was due to stumble back in at any moment. About twenty minutes passed and still no sign of Bruce. I went to the toilet and the door was open, but no Bruce. Uh-oh. Where the fuck is Bruce?!
I went back to my lady friend and informed her Bruce is MIA. I ran around the volunteers looking for the bastard. Drunken paranoia had me thinking he may be in the forest right now getting gang-raped by a pack of Jackals. Shit. Where are you Bruce?! What if you're in trouble? What if...hang about...there's a fit Swedish bird alone in my room and I'm out here looking for some drunken spastic. Fuck Bruce. The search ended and I proceeded to enjoy the rest of my night.
So what happened to Bruce? He came stumbling into my room the next morning, covered in cuts and bruises. I was too hungover to give a shit and went back to sleep. When I eventually came to, I went out to the common room and Bruce was the centre piece of everyone's conversation. Here's what happened after I lost Bruce:
Bruce had always been drunkenly hitting on a South African girl, who we shall call S. S had always returned the flirtation. But this night, she went to bed before Bruce did. Bruce was not pleased with this. So Bruce walked to her room, which was up a flight of stairs. Drunken legs and staircases are not a good mix. Bruce fell down several times. But Bruce will not fail. Bruce kept on going and eventually conquered the mountainous staircase. By this stage Bruce was covered in blood and looked like he had just survived a car bomb. Bruce knocked on S' door.
*knock knock knock*
Bruce: OPEN THE DOOR!!
S: Who the fuck is that?!
B: It's me, Bruce! OPEN THE DOOR!!!
S opens the door for Bruce. His face is disfigured like Freddy Kruger and he now has the charisma skills of a down syndrome chimpanzee.
Bruce: S, will you have sex with me?!
S: WHAT?! NO!
*cue the infamous line that was always repeated to him*:
B: WHY WON'T YOU HAVE SEX WITH ME?! Is it because I don't have a gun?!
S had a fling with an Israeli soldier. So Bruce's logic by this point was if he could somehow get his hands on a rifle, he would be right in there. But S kindly refused this generous offer and Bruce admitted defeat. He ended up sleeping on her spare bed. Once I heard this story, I calmly made my way back to mine and Bruce's room and proceeded to do what every true man should do to a true friend in this situation, laugh in their face. I think I broke a rib from laughing so hard. He honestly couldn't leave the room, he was that embarrassed. Yet he couldn't remember a single thing.
So me and another mate, from Florida, decided to take advantage of Bruce's fragile state. We told Bruce that he had tried to take a dump on the floor in front of all the hot girls. But we stopped him. He ate it up like an African does Red Cross rations. Now he was considering leaving Baram for another Kibbutz. We let him believe it for a good half hour, then took a tiny bit of pity and let him know we was joking. I truly believe Bruce will never live this down. I suppose me dedicating a whole blog story to this night doesn't help him forget.
Have a good Australia day Bruce ;)
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