My last night in Sydney was an eventful affair. With a wake up time of 5:30am an early night was on the agenda. My good intentions were scuppered as everyone in my hostel was going to world bar, with free champagne on offer to boys in drag. The westend hostel has a partying reputation to upkeep so the lads went for it. Being the metrosexual man chain wearing kinda guy that i am i simply couldnt resist tagging along. I put on a bikini, rolled up my jeans, had my shirt tied in one of them knot things and slapped on the make up (anyone whos been to a festival with me will know that is my favourite part). I was basically a pair of large gold hooped earrings away from being a lady chav.

With all the guys taking it so seriously the 28 bed church turned into a cross dressing olympics. I say this with gritted teeth, i didn't win gold, infact i was nowhere near. Some of the guys were a lot more realistic than me, which is so not fair as i am normally one of the best at this kind of thing. On a much brighter note i definately lead the way in the pouting stakes. Aided by the encyclopedic sized collection of photos with inferior Burton and Fee pouting i was awesome. I had Spanish hooker written all over me. (not that i'd know wether they pout or not, just a hunch)

As fate would have it we were the only guys in world bar dressed as women. Hence much attention from the girls, abuse from the guys (jealous they werent getting the attention) and numerous pervs wanting to kop a feel of my perfectly formed sock enhanced breasts. I also received some outrageous propositions which i simply cannot repeat on here as my mum reads it. (know your audience, 2:2 from leeds met finally paying dividend.) Although i will say that my favourite was something that Katie Price would be good at.

I flew 4 and a half hours north to Darwin to begin my mang picking. Farmer Bob picked me up and when i arrived at the farm i was greeted by 28 Koreans and 2 deadbeat Aussies. (One of the Aussies words, not mine.) The first night i felt like a freak show/popstar. Rumour spread through the camp that an English boy was here and within about 20 minutes they had all gathered round me staring. There was about 5 people all trying to talk to me at once, all asking me the same question i was asking myself, what the hell was i doing there? The guys kept telling me how handsom the girls thought i was. I kinda gathered anyway as when i smiled or said hello they did that high school giggling thing, one even ran away. (For ego purposes im going to take running away as a good thing)

mY first day begun in infuriating fashion. A machine broke so i missed out on 6 hours work and just sat around. When my group finally started it got worse. Farmer Russel was our leader for the day but Farmer Bruce (boss man)was following us around, patronising the arse of me. I got given more abuse than anyone else and also the hardest job. I had the long pole to pick the mangoes right at the top of the tree which is a neck killer. His not so sly digs at my English heritage left me in no doubt to why i was being singled out, i put up for it for a few hours before pointing out that he comes from a country whose ancient history is 100 years ago and that were probably related. He piped down after that.

Once Farmer Bruce did the decent thing and pissed off Farmer Russell gave me a promotion to machine driver. Dont worry people, this isn't the kind of driving that had my Dad on suicide watch. I was driving the mango collecting machine and operating a fork lift. Farmer Russel is an absolute legend. He is just how i pictured an aussie farmer, old, tanned, whispy long hair and an ex acid head demeanor to his poodle like looks. My favourite Farmer Russel moment was when all the Koreans were trying to get there books signed. He was only meant to sign for the people working in his team and was trying to figure out which 6 of the 38 that was. In the end he just said in his husky voice "oh f*** it, you all look the bloody same to me" and signed them all.

The next day i was relieved when 3 aussies and a Swede pitched up, although it did mean that i got demoted back to the long pole. Mango picking is really hard work. The constant reaching meant my shoulders always ached, the heat makes you sweat buckets and the job is really monotonous. There are green ants that bite you non stop and flies all over the place. By the end of each day i had no energy to wave the flies away so they were just resting all over my skinny body, i must hacve beared resemblence to them poor african kids you see on comic relief.

The first time i went to the toilet there was a nice hairy spider about 3 inches in diameter to greet me. As a result i had to develop a new technique which involved peering over my shoulder whilst sat on the toilet. With all this pouting, my irrational fear of spiders and a daily diet of pasta im beginning to worry that this whole travelling malarky is just turning me into an Inferior Burton.

The first few nights i was lucky enough to have a room to myslef but unfortunately some Aussie guy Carlos moved in. He worked in the shed so had different hours to me. I had to be up at 6 in the morning and he was up until 2am every night getting stoned playing house music on the xbox and tv he bought with him. I only have myslef to blame, with his skinhead, numerous piercings, tattoos and the fact that he is an ex con i was so intimmitaded i told him to do what he liked as im a heavy sleeper. I was too scared to ask what he was in prsion for but i do know he served 14 months.

Once Sweedish Mike and 2 of the Aussies moved on to another farm my mango picking team consisted of me, Ben and 5 Koreans. Farmer Bruce told us that we were the least productive team and thus we crowned ourselves team snail, possibly the slowest mango picking team in history. It would be fair to say we werent the most dedicated of people. The highlight of our day would always be when the machine ran out of fuel, allowing us an unscheduled fag break as well as a visit from the always entertaing Farmer Russel to refil. Quite a few of our days were cut short by huge thunderstorms. At night you would see just one cloud in the sky, with the most awesome lightening surrounded by stars. The rain seemed to be the only way in which the days torture would ever end.Thus Team Snail could be seen at lunch time doing our own slightly moronic take on the rain dance.

Farmer Bruce even spent some time with us to see why we were so slow. The smiling assassin, as i liked to call him, blamed the 2 Korean boys. I f he had the even a hint of a brain cell in that hollow head of his he would have seen that every team member was hugely inadequate in their role. There was another team leader called mick. He was a very blunt, scary looking creature. I didnt like him at first but he grew on me loads. When the smiling assassin questioned his policy on unscheduled smoke breaks mick replied "you gotta smoke, its basic human rights. If i go more than an hour without a smoke i get edgy, why do you think i cant sleep at night?"

I got on well with the Koreans, particullarly the fellow team snail members. Me and Ben would often find ourselves playing English teacher. They have a real problem with pronunciation. My personal favourite was this girl Ju Young (Queen Snail). Whenever she said "i cant" the A sounded like a U and childish little me cracked up every time. Im also pretty sure that the koreans had a secret bet on who could burn my mouth the most. Each night a different one would offer me a taste of their food and it just kept getting hotter. They would all crowd round me giggling, waiting for my reaction.

When they realised that Ben (Sargeant Snail) could drivehe got relieved of his team leader duties leaving me (Deputy Snail) too take charge for large periods of time. It was during these times that Team Snail reached new lows in Mango picking. We were so slow you could have been forgiven for thinking we werent moving. I once actually switched of the ignition, and then went on a 20 minute walk to tell Farmer Russell we were out of petrol. The Koreans picked up on my lackluster leadership skills and even started giving themselves fag breaks. Outnumbered and unsure what to do i just let them smoke whilst i played lookout for the smiling assassin (with a cig in my hand obviously, its only fair that i get to smoke as well.)

After 8 days Sargeant Snail had started to go troppo (delirious with the mangoes and heat). i also started to get mango rash. The sap that comes out had an illergic reaction to my skin, meaning i couldnt work or i'd end up looking like the elephant man. Unfortunately i hadnt paid enough attention to the health and safety book (i used it to kill all the ants in my room) so i wasnt properly protected. Because of this we decided to quit and head back to Darwin.

On our last day 2 ex con aussies joined Team Snail. They were like tattooed versions of Lenny and George from of Mice and Men. They fitted perfectly into team snails work ethos and spent most of the day stood around talking. Im certainly not going to be the one to tell 2 thirty something ex cons to work harder, despite the smiling assassins insane request for me to motivate the snails. He wanted me to give them team talks before each picking session. Instead i let them get one last cig in before the torture begins. (i say i let them, they werent exactly asking for my permission.)

As we had to pass on the reigns i charged with the unenviable task of showing the ex cons (naughty Snails) how to operate the machine. George was no problem but Lenny was a nightmare. I tried not to patronise him but he just wasnt getting it. I ended up talking to him slower than i did the Koreans.

The last night was cool because we had a barbecue and free beer. All the Koreans were milking there last chance to abuse me for English and the deadbeat aussies were soaking up the non Korean company. My ex con roommate was also sad to see me go. He's unlikely to get another roommate who doesn't complain at him hitting the bong at 2 am and then spending the next 20 minutes coughing his guts up while he listens to house music and talks to himslef in some uncomprehendable mumbo jumbo language.

The smiling assassin didnt take our exit too welll, accussin us of dealing dope (must be the hoodie). We manage to skank a lift to this town palmerston and caught a bus back to Darwin. With freedom in our hands we had heavy night on the booze and by the time i went to bed i hadnt slept in 24 hours and was pretty sure that i was also going troppo. In my hungover state i booked a flight to Cairns Wedneday night so im going there to hopefully get some work. Itchy feet seems to be another disease i have as well as mango rash.