Good morning, afternoon and evening everyone. Just thought I’d cover all the time zones reading this, as I’ve got a lot of arse kissing to do. It’s been over THREE MONTHS since my last entry. That ain’t on at all. I don’t know why I stopped writing, because so much stuff has happened. Either I forgot how to write, or my reintroduction to weed made me lazy. I think that answers itself. I can’t write out story-for-story what has happened in the last 3 months. So I’ll speedily bring you up to date.
Last time I wrote, I was monging about in a Melbourne hostel without a penny to my name. Long story short, I found a job, worked hard(ish), got paid, spent money on booze and food, met loads of people, got wasted and made a dick out of myself, bla bla. The usual stuff. Now I’m in the arsehole of nowhere in a town called Mildura. I have to be here so I can work towards a 2nd year on my visa. Which requires 3 months of fruit picking. I was dreading coming here, I had become addicted to Melbourne. I had initially planned to be there 2 weeks but I ended up being there for 3 months; oops. So going from the amazing city of Melbourne where a hot girl is only seconds away to a town which is in more bush than a 70’s porn stars genitalia; really wasn’t faring too well with me. I was expecting tumble weed and toothless simpletons. But I have been proven wrong; there isn’t a tumble weed in sight!
I’m living in a working hostel, which is a hostel that finds me work in the local area. I’ve landed on my feet here, the work is horse shit, but the people are sound as f*ck. Most of us here are English. As much as I love travelling and meeting foreign people, it’s nice to be around your own sometimes. These aren’t the gap year student types who Mummy and Daddy are paying for on their credit card. I’m with the type of English people who can talk about footy and actually know what they’re on about. The type who turn every word in the English language into a football chant when wasted. The type who shout “WHEEEEEY!” when someone falls over or drops their beer. The type who don’t get all whiney and defensive if you take the piss, instead they just take the piss back with something wittier and harsher. I never felt so much at home as the moment on Saturday night, when I was slouched on the setee, beer in one hand, spliff in the other, mid-way through ripping one of the Yorkshire lads for being a dirty coal miner, a Scouser pokes his head round the corner and says “Oi lads, John’s fallen asleep…let’s bundle him!”. Instantly all the Englishmen’s faces light up. We know the drill. No questions asked. I haven’t been involved in a bundle since I was 16 years old, but it’s just like riding a bike, you never forget. Only the English lads get up, no-one else knows what’s going on. They’re all confused as to why we’ve all just upped and left. We follow the Scouse to John’s room, we bang the door open SAS at the Iranian Embassy style. Minus the explosives of course, but we do execute the bundles with SAS swiftness and precision.
“BUUUUNDLLLLEEEEEEEES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” echoes the famous playground war cry across the battleground. Before the victim even knows what’s going on, he has the weight of eight fully grown men pushing down on top of him. Being at the bottom of a bundle is about as enjoyable as eating a bowl of urine soaked sand for breakfast. You literally feel like you could die if they push down on your lungs enough. So why am I writing about bundles? Because, it was only that moment that, I remembered how fun it is to be English. Europeans all see us as loud, uncultured aggressive idiots. They couldn’t be more right. Look back in the day, when Europe was making beautiful music and art with the likes of Picasso and Mozart. What was England doing? I can picture it now.
Random hairy European: “You hear this music I make? It is beautiful, it is like thousand angels have orgasm in ear. So, tell me Englishman, what is your culture? You have beautiful song to show me? Or maybe a poem expressing your love to the woman you love?”
English nobleman: “Er…not quite… you see that fox there? I’ve got some dogs here, watch me release them and tear the fox to shit…who fancies a cup of Bovril?”
I wouldn’t want to be any other way.
So, back to Australia. My love for this country has only strengthened since I last wrote to you all. The quality of life here is unreal. I was making $20 an hour for my last job, which works out about £16, I was packing clothes into boxes and playing cricket with a ball made from tape. It’s sad to think that I get paid more than someone with a decent profession in England. Everything is more expensive than England, yes. But when your on Aussie wages, it works out a lot better. If I earn $20 an hour and pay $6-7 for a pint of lager, that’s less than half my wage. If I’m on £6 an hour in England, then it’s rare to find a pint of lager less than £3. The quality of life is just too good here, I would be mental not to consider staying here forever. England is in a bad way, all I read in the news is doom and gloom. Unemployment is sky high, the NHS is burning to the ground, David Cameron has been a complete let down who U-turns the moment someone disagrees with his decision, kids are taking drugs from as young as 13, the schools don’t teach the children anything about English history. I will sum up the state of modern day England. We are not allowed to be taught the National Anthem at school. We are the ONLY country in the world who do this. I need to stop writing about England, my blood is boiling. I’ve had some great discussions with the English lads here. We all agree, England is the best country in the world. To be born English is to win the lottery of life. But shit, she is sick right now. So sick it breaks my heart. Australia is not without it’s flaws, but it’s got a lot more going for it than England has. Australia, society-wise, is like what England used to be.
Speaking of Australian society, I need a moment to comment on Australian girls. I am pretty sure that they’re my new favourite (it changes weekly). Aussie girls are funny as f*ck. That’s the biggest compliment I can pay to any girl EVER. I can talk to an Aussie girl without my cheeks hurting from fake smiling and laughing so much. They’re just so down to earth. If an English girl talks to me about some random guy she had sex with at the weekend who had a massive cock, I would be thinking “You really do talk like a slag, tone it down love” in my head. Yet, when an Aussie girl talks about it, I don’t think like this. If I had a penny for the amount of times an English girl will speak of a one night stand and then turn around and call a girl a slag for doing the exact same thing. Aussie girls are more genuine and comfortable with who they are. Don’t get me wrong, you get the stuck up slags who look at you like a furry, dog turd if you’re not wearing a $10000 rolex watch. But the sound ones are SOUND…and fit as f*ck. They’re funny, smart, aren’t shy of watching sport and I’ve even had discussions with some about my intellectual porn; history. They were fit too! Aussie girls definitely make my penis feel funny. God bless you Australian girls. Salt of the earth.
So, my plan for now is to work towards my 2nd visa for a bit, then who knows. I need to see a bit more of Oz, I may go to Korea for a month in September, I have to see an Oriental country. I will probably go back to Melbourne after a while though. If I settle down here, I will live in Melbourne. Standard.
That’s enough for now, I will write more of my analysis of Australia soon (they can't cook a fry-up for shit) and I’ll write some stories next time. Ciao for now niggas.
No comments:
Post a Comment