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Keeping this blog up is long, especially as no one reads it! Anyhow......
A lot on snobbish people say they hate Surfers Paradise cos its too commercial.� I say bore off hippies and get with the program.� I was heading up the coast a bit too quickly so I decided to stay in Surfers for a week.� Initially I met up with the lads from Burnley but they were on a tight schedule and so after my first day there we said our goodbyes as I wouldn't catch them up again.� Spent most of my time there with a top lad from Essex called Oli and another chap called Justin who was possibly the dopiest person i've ever met in my life.� Surfers is to Australians what Spain and Greece is to English people, there are loads of bars and clubs and little to do in the day other than go to the beach.� Some details�of my time there are detailed below.
1.� We were walking�through the town centre on a Friday night and as we turned the corner a mass brawl was going down.� In Malia-esk style I decided to bop straight through the middle of it before taking up a suitable viewing position.� Basically a rather hench guy, who had whipped his t-shirt off to reveal numerous tats and bulk, was quite aggie and looking to kick off�(we've seen this before in another glorious seaside resort......ADAM!!!!!!).� He kept demanding a one on one with this guy that didnt want it...initially.� He changed his mind though and then proceeded to batter Butch Mcd*** for some time while numerous mate-on-mate fights broke out all around.� It was good to watch�but there were some seriously pumped up Aussies about so we scarpered.
2. The second day i was there my t-shirt disappeared from my room.� I couldn't work out what i'd done with it.�I put the ordeal behind me and went out that night. In a bar in town i saw that one of the cleaners from�my hostel was there, with quite a fit bird and wearing my t-shirt!�After some time deliberating how i would approach the subject I�went up to him to ask what we were going to do about my t-shirt, and if he wanted to just wash it and give it back to me tomorrow when he was due to clean the toilet in my room (an element of disrespect you see).� He stammered and spluttered for a bit, probably a result of my intimidating physique and angry Dog-out-of-The-Never-Ending-Story face (Len you know it).� I highlighted how discretely i'd handled this to-do and he agreed to my conditions of prompt return.� What a little scally!!��
3. The night after that we went out again and was in a club called Bedroom (it has a load of beds lying around).� I pulled this surprisingly fit bird from New Zealand.� I wooed her with a classic one liner and she proceeded to dig my vibe.� We were both due to be going out the following night so�I gave her my number so we could arrange to meet.��She'd already text me by the time I got home and continued to do so the next day.� Magic!!� Or so I thought.� That evening�I rolled into this club busting an Aarron Wilson-esk cool walk�in anticipation of the attension I was about to receive upon arrival.� Almost as soon as I walked in there I saw her pulling some other bloke.��Same sh*t, different hemisphere!! I didn't bother to say hello...waste of time.� After a while Oli started asking�"Where's this piece you're meant to be meeting?".� "I boyed her off didn't I mate,�not interested in it" i lied.� As soon as I got home i deleted her number, that'll teach her!!
I should add the first�night i met her we were sitting down and happened to look across�at one of the beds near the dance floor.� A middle aged man in tight leatherette�chaps was wriving around to the music and rubbing himself off. Disappointing! I offered to introduce her to 'my mate' but she wasn't up for it.� He�was asked to leave shortly afterwards by the bouncers......the player haters!�
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