I headed out to see the new Bond movie tonight with Slider. 6 people told me it sucked, so my expectations were low, but Bond is Bond and it’s not like I have a choice - the movie must be watched, even if it’s a chore.

As we walked into the cinema, the large promotional poster showing the new Bond girl wasn’t very flattering to her, and I commented to Slider that if they screwed up and picked an ugly Bond girl, I was going to be sick tilted and maybe break shit.

Firstly, people are morons. The new Bond movie is awesome, ridiculously, ridiculously awesome. I think it’s better than the last one.

Secondly, I am a moron. The people running the Bond franchise now are brilliant and I should have known better than to doubt their genius. The new Bond Girl is perfectly, fantasticly adorable and I think I love her. She’s Ukranian (of course). There are probably cuter girls than her in the world, but they’re probably wandering around Moscow or Belarus.

I have to do more online stalking of Olga Kurylenko now so I bid you goodnight, Blog Friends.

However, hype dangers notwithstanding, if the following email exchange between a debt collection agency and a busto guy is not the funniest thing you’ll read this week, well Blog Friend, I don’t even want to know you.

As always, the excellence is in the tiny details.

———-

When someone tries to engage me in small talk and/or conversation on the intrawebs, I often tell them I’m busy. This excuse usually has the added incentive of being true. However, and this may shock you, I am not beneath lying to get out of small talk and fascinating questions like “hey how are you” or “what’s up” or “you winning lately” or “can you lend me money, my dog is sick”.

Today, if you tried to talk to me and I told you I was busy, I’m embarassed to admit I lied. I had nothing pressing to do today, at least nothing I really wanted to do work-wise. I was actually bored almost out of my mind. There is an old saying that you can die of boredom, and unlike the one about being so hungry you could eat a horse which is obviously ridiculous unless we’re talking one of those super tiny miniature horses (which I’m yet to be convinced actually exist), I genuinely believe it really may be possible to die of boredom. Faced with imminent death by boredom, I plead mitigating circumstances and beg forgiveness of the Policia and the Religious Right for the following confession: I decided to get very, very high.

As occasionally happens when one gets very, very high, I had a rare stroke of genius and decided I would watch the Most Viewed videos of All Time on YouTube. Although I detest the opinion and judgement of most people, I figured if 50 million people watched a video, I should watch it also, if for no other reason, than to keep my finger on the pulse of the working man and perhaps have something to talk about should I find myself trapped in an elevator again in Singapore.

Now, rightly or wrongly, I consider myself a fairly intelligent man. I did not forsee any complications in searching for and finding the Most Viewed videos of All Time on YouTube, as I did not (at the time) consider YouTube to be retarded.

I was delighted to find a link titled Most Viewed on www.youtube.com. Knowing I was almost certainly on the right track, I then confidently clicked on the All Time link chuckling to myself at the ease of the process and congratulating YouTube aloud for making my job so easy. However, to my horror and disgust, when I clicked on Most Viewed > All Time…YouTube gave me a list of videos with 20 mil hits, 10 mil hits and even 7 mil hits.

Now, some people will be wondering where I’m going with this. I won’t leave them in suspense for long. Only yesterday, on a search for a Fonzarelli remix of Now You’re Gone by Basshunter (who’s music is definitely as retarded as his DJ name suggests it would be), I had to endure this vomit-inducing package of cheese below:

Now, relative arguments as to the attractiveness of the brunette in the video aside (I am on the fence and am not thrilled by her man-like jaw and features), we can all agree the storyline leaves even the most sentimental of us nauseous - I haven’t cringed this much since watching the Dukes of Hazzard movie.

More importantly, this package of cheese is not even on the list of MOST VIEWED of ALL TIME on YouTube despite having 45 million views, up to 15 times more views than some of the results on the MOST VIEWED of ALL TIME page.

I was furious and livid. I tried to imagine how I would feel if I had a video which had 45 million hits (hopefully one not as embarassing as Basshunter’s) and my spot on the Most Viewed of All Time page on YouTube was taken by a video with 7 million hits. I would feel robbed and I think I would sue YouTube and probably take my 45 million hit video to the competition.

A possible theory I considered was that YouTube refused to reward such horrendously bad music video production and flatly refused to place the Basshunter (lol, he hunts Bass, he’s a Basshunter) video on their MOST VIEWED of ALL TIME page. This theory seemed fully plausible until I noticed an ACCA DACCA video on the page. I immediately had to concede that YouTube does not discriminate against crap or filter their results based on quality of submissions.

After almost 8 minutes (I have ADD and get distracted quickly and I am also blindingly lazy), I gave up trying to find the Most Viewed videos of All Time on YouTube and was instead left pondering if YouTube was, indeed, retarded.

If you read from the bottoms of posts up (Arabs read right to left, so don’t shake your head, you fucking incultured hick), I can tell you that you won’t find these videos by clicking on MOST VIEWED and then clicking on ALL TIME. Yes, I know, I too, was surprised that this method failed.

(Edit: It turns out that due to some retarded YouTube policy, my account gets redirected to au.youtube.com and there is seemingly nothing I can do to go to the URL I type in, specifically youtube.com - what’s amusing here is that this forced redirection is random and some Australians aren’t redirected against their will. Summary: YouTube is definitely retarded.)

—–

Contrary to what your parents and The Man would have you believe, hard work like searching for the Most Viewed videos of All Time on YouTube does not, in fact, eliminate boredom. So I was left with my original problem, only slightly comforted by the fact that I’d craftily dodged possible death from this boredom by getting very, very high.

I solved this boredom problem for 2 hours by writing messages to friends I hadn’t spoken to in years on Facebook. Contrary to what you may believe, despite my overall contempt for most people, there are actually many, many people who are awesome, smart, entertaining and all-round better people than I am - and I am lucky enough to have been friends with some of them over the years. However, due to my aforementioned laziness coupled with the fact that I am painfully shy coupled (a double-couple, even I’ve never seen that one) with the fact that I am painfully neurotic and live in perennial, paranoid fear of rejection (even from friends), I don’t stay in touch with most of these awesome peoples unless they go out of their way to stay in touch with me, which is not an easy feat when the person you’re trying to talk to is saying they are busy all the time out of fear of the possibility of small talk.

Now, it occured to me that messaging people I haven’t spoken to in months or years whilst very, very high might be akin to a drunk retard calling his ex-girlfriend at 4am in the morning after he’s had too many bourbons or rums. But fuelled by the confidence of illicit drugs, I quickly dismissed any such reservations and proceeded to message about 60 old friends with random and occasionally non-sensical cheerios.

As this was some time ago, and I’ve only received one reply so far, I’m now questioning the intelligence of my actions but as a ghetto pimp rueing the loss of a score from a potential john beating a hasty retreat might say, “No point crying over spilt milk.” Or unspilt milk, as the case might be in this example - oh I just know I’m gonna cringe at that one when I read this tomorrow sober.

Yesterday I had my first ever 50k day online. I stole 30k from dirty Scandi lags at Eurolinx (at one point I had 21k Euro on a 10/20 table) and then picked up a quick fire 20k at Cake.

This hand was pretty special as the villain is a very good player and I was just finishing up my very long (30hrs plus) session - the non-club river 5 was just magical as I was screaming for it on turn knowing he would call a big overshove due to my line, but I didn’t know villain had 55 (I put villain on a set otherwise I would have 3bet flop or made a move on turn obv) - he then left the table immediately in disgust which was the perfect end to a perfect day.

I slept for 12 hrs or so and woke up thinking I’d missed the election coverage and was devastated. I frantically turned on CNN only to find, to my delight, that the coverage was just kicking into gear. And what fantastic coverage it was - the CNN team is just brilliant and I will probably have to have sex with Anderson Cooper one day.

During ad breaks, I’d flick over to BBC coverage which was so bad, I don’t have the words to describe it. Like, everyone involved with the BBC coverage should never work in television journalism again. They had this retarded far right ex-ambassor from the US on their panel, who was furious that his side was losing and was picking fights with and insulting everyone. On air, he demanded that the BBC fire a reporter who had an entertaining argument with a good-natured GOP politician.

As expected, the genius that is Obama took it down in a landslide. He’ll be a brilliant President, and it turns out Americans are not as retarded as I thought they were after watching in horror and disbelief as they handed the White House to Bush not once, but TWICE.

I’ve lost a fortune on three US Presidental elections in a row now, but this is the only one I’m happy about. Had I won that 15-20k today if McCain got up, I would be devastated.

The Democrats have also picked up 7 more Senate seats, and they’re an outside chance of getting the magical 60.

“Change is coming to America!”

I think I speak for 98% of the world when I say, IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME. If I die without seeing the GOP take the White House again, I will be a happy man on my deathbed.

Despite being well and truly out of my downswing / movie-watching mode (I broke Prima 5/10 the other day for 20k euro or something), I have a dirty little embarassing confession to make - I’m currently in love with Jane Austen.

This obsession started somewhat innocently. Chardy recommended a bunch of movies to me, and the first couple sucked, but I’m a persistent bastard and I eventually arrived at Pride and Prejudice. This movie is glorious, Keira Knightley is so cute in it it’s almost unbelievable, and I gave it 9/10 on IMDB. I’m honestly not sure where it loses a point, but I don’t like to give 10/10’s and do so only when I have no choice but to bestow such an honour on a movie.

I previously thought no love story could ever come close to competing with Les Miserables, but I think Pride and Prejudice might have stolen top billing. It forced me to go on a hunt for any movie or show even remotely Jane Austen related. I even watched (and I’m ashamed to say enjoyed) The Jane Austen Book Club and Bride and Prejudice (a Bollywood version of the classic novel). Despite the retarded dancing and music (I don’t care who I offend, it was so bad I had to fast forward through every musical number), the Indian girls in that movie are just ridiculous. Aishwarya Rai’s eyes are hypnotic.

I’m already copping equal bagging as when I regrettably admitted to friends I liked commerical trance when I was 19. But screw them - the heart wants what the heart wants, and right now my heart wants Jane Austen.

Like all embarassing stages of my life, I’m pretty sure I’ll grow out of this one shortly - but Jane Austen has helped me understand something I have often wondered about. Most of her stuff is all cousin on cousin love - inbreeding ftw apparently. No wonder we’re all so retarded - our ancestors were all falling in love and sleeping with close relatives.

I’m having a pretty bad week.

After grinding 3/6 for like 30 hrs the other day for a few k profit running terribly, I followed a fish up to 25/50 and dropped 30k in like an hour in the most ridiculous circumstances.

So I’m in watching movies / collect on debts mode now, which is my standard routine when I don’t feel like playing. This is because I like to punish myself, as 90% of movies suck despite one’s best efforts to filter out the trash, and trying to collect on debts is an exercise in pure futility.

Add in the fact that I got scammed for 11k the other day by buying a prop account which I almost immediately find out are readily available for free, and I’m having a pretty bad week.

So, in retrospect, it was probably not a good time to leave the safety of my little hermit compound and do admin which I’d been putting off for weeks - but I’ve only ever been wise in hindsight.

I had a few small errands to run in Manila and my tilt was growing rapidly at my inability to get even the simplest things done, with each errand taking 20x the time it would take in Aust/US/Europe. Running out of time before the banks closed, I rushed to my local HSBC Premier (VIP banking because I’m a pimp) only to find my wonderful Premier Account Manager Hazel was on holidays.

I tried to remain calm as I needed to quickly convert 50k USD cash into AUD to take advantage of the recent AUD 30% crash in value, as I’m not sure how long the AUD will stay this weak.

When Hazel is around, I wait an avg of 8 seconds before she professionally handles all my banking needs whilst I sip on a peppermint tea, however without Hazel, it became quickly apparent that HSBC Premier in Rockwell is a house of insanity and tilt.

I waited patiently for 15 min before the receptionist claimed she could convert my currency. I had my doubts about her ability to do this, but as the job was so simple, I told myself only a moron would be unable to do it and I mistakenly entered into discourse with her. My initial doubts proved to be well-founded when she kept insisting USD > AUD rate was 0.69. I patiently tried to explain to her that I was converting in the other direction. Despite having no success in previous attempts with this method, I used stick figures, lines, and various forms of written communication to try and get my message across. I had no luck. She was determined to give me AU$34,500 for my US$50,000. Obviously this was unacceptable to me.

After 10 minutes of frustration, I lost my temper and told her I could no longer deal with someone as stupid as she was. At this point, the assistant branch manager walked in and offered to assist me. The receptionist was in tears. I felt a little bit bad, but told myself (and the assistant branch manager) that she should not be working in a bank with her level of intelligence.

Things got ugly at this point. The assistant branch manager also insisted on giving me 34,500 aud for my 50k usd. I was starting to lose the plot trying to explain to these morons basic currency exchange rates and how one must be careful not to fall into the hugely complex trap of multiplying when one should be dividing by the listed exchange rate. The assistant branch manager then made the almost fatal error of patronising me, trying to explain to me that rates “fluc-tu-ate” (she said this very slowly as if I was stupid). At this point, I lost the plot and coldly crushed her, telling her that she was too stupid to work in a call centre, let alone in a VIP banking facility. She also burst into tears.

With 4 staff in the building, I had reduced 50% of the workforce into tears and I’d be lying if I said I was feeling much guilt at this point. The whole process was passing the 30 min mark and I was losing my ability to cope with stupidity of this magnitude.

The branch manager came in to see what all the fuss was about. With two of his female staff members crying, understandably, he was not conducive to sympathy towards my issue - that being, I just wanted to fucking convert fucking USD into fucking AUD and I didn’t see how or why it had to be so much fucking tilt. I probably shouldn’t have used language almost identical to that, because it shocked him and also made him stupid. He also insisted the exchange rate was 0.69 and attempted to patronise me by explaining how exchange rates work. I was going insane in a world of retardation and wondering if, maybe, they were all sane and I was the one in need of a straight-jacket.

People who know me well will understand how I was reacting at this point - I am not proud of my behaviour when confronted with stupidity of this magnitude, but in my defence, we’re talking easy 8.0 on the Richter Scale of stupidity.

Somehow, through the sobs of his staff members, and my yelling, it somehow clicked in his mind what I was trying to say about reversing the direction and he realised he needed to divide 50k by 0.69 to give me the equivalent amount in AUD. I almost cried at this point, such was the level of emotion running through the building.

It then took 10 min to get the paperwork ready for my conversion, at the correct rate, which was, of course, 1 divided by 0.69 = 1.45. I know, complex stuff, only took almost an hour and lots of tears before the job was done - welcome to Manila.

He then gave me a lecture about my language to his female staff members, which was fair in parts, and I felt bad enough that I then spent half an hour buying chocolates and alcohol for them, gift-wrapping it all with “I’m Sorry” cards attached. As they have my home address, hopefully now I get to live tonight.

——-

In any case, and this has been a very long time coming, I’m leaving Manila. Where to, I do not know yet, but the options are as follows:

1. Bangkok - I know a lot of Scandi poker players in Bangkok and it would be the easist move, as far as international moves go. I like Bangkok, and I think 30% of the population speaks English, and as I know so many people there, it would be a fairly tilt-free existence I think.

2. Brisbane - Vos, Roy and maybe Harris are considering buying a ridiculous $2 mil pimping place in New Farm. This would be pretty fun, but Brisbane is so quiet, and whilst I love Vos, we fight a lot if we spend too much time together.

3. Buenos Aires - cons: no one speaks English at all, bill before Parliament attempting to make online poker illegal. pros: lots of expats there, recently appear to have decriminalised drugs.

4. Columbia - this one is my favourite atm. Friends of a very close friend of mine have recently moved there after spending years in Iraq (initially as special forces types, then working in private security, i.e. bodyguards). They’re opening up hostels there as they claim tourism is booming - they’ve invited my friend and I to visit once their first hostel is built and invest in one of their subsequent hostels if we like what we see, which I’m sure will be a given. Only problem is I’m not sure if my definition of “safe” is the same as theirs. I’m a wimp and they are like SAS Iraq veterans so….

Pros for Columbia: This blog will get a WHOLE lot more interesting fast….

Cons for Columbia: I might die.

———–

For getting to the end of this long post, I reward you with 2 min of Ricky Gervais and Clive Owen awesomeness:

McCain was brilliant. If this was a debate, he’d win hands down.

————-

Obama had a few great moments also. He’s going to be a wonderful President.

It’s not really surprising, but I get literally MILLIONS (maybe BILLIONS) of emails asking me to update my journal and blog. Unfortunately for all you lovers of literary geniusness, I almost always have more important and pressing things to do with my time.

The other day, I dug deep to find the energy to ring for food delivery. Later, the food arrived - the delivery man was ringing my doorbell. I was caught in limbo. I was fairly certain the effort to get up to answer the door and exchange currency and small talk for the food was not worth the enjoyment I would get out of the food. I found myself frozen in bed, unable to accept the tradeoff of mammoth effort for such a meh reward.

Thankfully, the decision was inadvertently made for me, as the doorbell being rung over and over and over was too annoying a sound to endure, and I was forced to walk 20 metres to my front door to collect my food. Unsurprisingly, the food was crap. I think the problem with the whole ‘food’ thing, is that I’ve done it all before. I must have eaten hundreds, maybe thousands of meals in my life. Every meal is fucking Groundhog Day.

Later that evening, I realised I had not showered in a few days. I’m yet to be convinced that showering and shaving are completely necessary to be accepted in ’society’, and more importantly, I’m fairly certain that the effort of showering and shaving is not worth the reward ’society’ delivers. Also, I have an illogical fear of water which is kinda dumb but real nonetheless. Like, I’m probably more afraid of water than I am of gingas. I occasionally wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares where dozens of gingas are chasing me, and my only avenue of escape is the beach or a lake or something. Trapped!

Yes, drinking water is a bitch when being near it makes you nervous and nauseous. Also, it’s tasteless, mundane, boring, plain and retarded. It’s probably the dumbest drink ever invented by man. And we’re forced to drink it otherwise we’ll (supposedly) die. I don’t like being held hostage to nonsense like this. Life is full of little tilting ironies like water and food and social interaction.

The other night, Tube8 wasn’t working for me. I almost lost the plot. I’m pretty Zen these days, but some things cannot just be dismissed with a glib remark or a “Fiji Time!” attitude. When I want a selection of Latin Lolita videos displayed on my monitor, I’m not fucking working on fucking Fiji Time. For fucks sake. I was so angry, I boycotted Tube8 for the night and also went on a hunger strike - not so much a hunger strike as being too lazy to ring for food delivery, but these things are really all about results and not motivations. The next day, Tube8 was back up and running at lightning speed. Ghandi was a fag but he knew how to pull the guilt strings like only a bald man can.

Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that my life is not easy and if all my Blog Friends could just cut me some slack until the chaos that is my life settles down, I’d take it as a personal favour from each of you.

I am turning the corner. I paid someone to shave me, which worked out fine except the barber doesn’t do home delivery which is just pathetically and disgustingly lazy from him, in my opinion. Forcing clients to come to your store? What kind of business model is that? I had to put shoes on, walk 3 blocks to the mall and interact with a receptionist - it was like a whole adventure, a word people associate with ‘fun’ but which we all know is just a nice word for a lot of painfull tilt and effort.

One day many years ago, when I was very young and very stupid, my dad tricked me into climbing Mt Warning on the Gold Coast. He promised it would be “fun”. Something like a 2km walk up a mountain, and once you get to the top, you get to look down. How the fuck is that “fun”? My lungs hurt just thinking about it, over a decade later.

One of my all-time favourite people is Colin Farrell’s character Ray in the movie “In Bruges”. His touristy buddy is trying to get him to go up to a famous tower and Ray is like, “Why? What’s up there?” - His buddy is like, “The view!” - Ray says, “The view of what? The view of down here? I can see that down here.”

—-

Anyway, through the force of the strength of my character and a willpower so few possess nowadays, I have been making an effort lately. For example, I did have that shower the other day. It sucked, I got soap in my eye, water in my ears, but when I dried myself off I had that unique sense of accomplishment, which is priceless. I’m not promising I’ll do it again any time soon, but I think the occasional shower might even be good for me.

I hope my achievements and my “can-do” attitude to showering and drinking water can serve as an example to all of you. When life deals you pot, you don’t sit there and complain about how much pot sucks, even if everyone above the age of 16 knows pot is right up there with petrol and glue sniffing and bulbing.

As you can’t make lemonade with pot, what you do is you take the pot that life cruelly dumped on you, and you go flip that shit for Crack. If you can’t find anyone who wants to buy the joke that is pot, just go down to a nearby highschool. The younger the kids, the better the customer. I swear when I was 14, I knew kids so retarded, you could sell them Derryn Hinch’s toupee and they’d pack that shit down and cone it up.

The stupidity of kids can only be compared to the stupidity of old people. Kids however, are not senile, wrinkly and scary. Despite usually being excessively perky, unreasonably happy and basically annoying, kids are definitely a much better brand of stupid. What little empathy I have left I save for people who have to work in nursing homes. Bless their cotton socks. When I am 60, senile and incontinent, it’s comforting to know that some kind-hearted soul who smoked pot in Years 8-12 and couldn’t get into uni will be feeding me and changing my diapers.

Nursing homes - little worlds with no more effort - maybe old people are smarter than I give them credit for….

———

On a completely unrelated note, an African-American first term Senator is a $1.15 favourite on Betfair to be the next President of the United States. I’m going to lose a 5 figure sum on the election when he takes it down (helped in no small degree but the pure retardation that is Sarah Palin), but I don’t mind losing money on something this awesome - I think people just don’t understand how fast the world changes. Less than 40 years ago US high schools were still segregated. 16 years ago, racist cops beat a black man half to death on a public road and were acquitted by a racist jury, sparking huge race riots in LA in which 53 people were killed. When I visited Washington DC, NYC and Baltimore in 2001, I was stunned by the overt racism I witnessed during my short visit. 7 years later, and Obama is probably the biggest favourite in history leading up to the Presidental election. We live in a mad, mad world - but this election is pretty special.

So this morning everything went wrong as I checked out of my hotel to fly to Sydney. That retard chardy was in my room and told me my alloted 1 hr driving time for GC > Brisbane was retarded. I laughed at the moron and pitied his noobness.

Fuck I hate it when kunts are right. I realised on the trip up that the cheeky little fuker might have a point as I was making poor time. I was so flustered I put in Super Premium fuel in my rental car before returning it. Sigh. That’s like buying flowers for a hooker.

I missed my flight. Of course. Fuk you Chardy. I get scheduled on a later flight, finally get on, of course the gods hate me and I’m stuck in a jam-packed plane next to a fat, dirty Pakistani. He’s not dirty because he’s Pakistani - of course. he’s dirty because he’s fat and smelly and doesn’t believe in hygiene. There is a big difference, children. You cannot make sweeping slurs based on race. That is racist and despicable. You simply can’t pigeon hole people. For example, this guy did NOT smell like curry.

He did, however, have a Frequent Flyer tag on his bag. In Saturday Night Live, one comedian introduced Michael Phelps as “the fastest man on water”, Usain Bolt as “the fastest man on land” and added “meanwhile, the air is still dominated by birds”. Cute this line may be, but adroit it is not. Based on my flying experience, the air, or at least the Qantas economy class, is dominated by fat people.

This fat guy was all up in my business, my back was killing me as I only had half a chair. The cute girl next to me who was very…’talented’, obviously thought I was a degen as this fat guy was pushing me into her chest - which, I’ll admit, was soft and fluffy like duck down pillows.

Recently I spoke with my good friend Dave about strategies for combatting the fat on flights. Dave fights back. He pwns. I’m a fag and weak. I don’t have his courage. I always wimp out and sometimes resort to passive aggression like a raging queer. The Fat Hordes keep people like me down, subjugating us through fear. They throw their weight around and I quiver under their massive power.

I considered outing this fat prick as a terrorist, but I didn’t have much evidence against him, apart from the fact he was annoying and fat. The blatantly liberal commies masquerading as the Australian Federal Police generally require more than that to make an arrest, so I played my cards close to my chest, and tried to build up a case against this villain patiently. Once a guy died a few seats in front of me on our way to Vegas, when we landed in LA, about 20 cops boarded the plane. I tried to pin suspicion on these jokers behind me who kept snoring all flight, but they were having none of it. Hippy fucks.

This heinously fat animal punished me the whole flight and I said and did nothing because I am a little bitch. As we were about to land in Sydney, the flight attendant was collecting garbage and I handed her my unfinished cookie and empty bottle of orange juice. As I passed them over, some cookie crumbs and some OJ spilt over the fat man. This was purely an accident - I wish I thought to do this on purpose, but I am not that brilliant or brave.

Furious, mostly I suspect over the wasted cookie crumbs, the fat man turns on me and bellows: “Fucking hell - watch it!” Now, I do not like being sworn at unless the swearing is coming from a very cute girl holding a paddle to punish me for misbehaving that day - i.e. only when I fully deserve my cumuppence - when I really deserve it and/or am paying for it.

In response, I muttered: “I’m sorry bro…”. Fat people like to be called bro - I learned that in New Zealand reading a book titled “What to do When Facing Porkers in the Wild”.

Sensing my fear, his confidence rose and he moved in for the kill. He cornered me like a hippopotamus corners its prey before sitting on it until dead and flat, at which point they then feast at their leisure.

“You’ve ruined my shirt!”, he says. Now, I am far from a stylist fiend like Boondy, but this shirt was not a shirt, it was a tartan curtain. The OJ didn’t even hit his shirt, it hit the plastic emergency manual on his 70 square foot lap. He had been reading this manual for the entire 2 hour flight. It’s 4 pages long ffs. I’m conducting a personal, academic study on whether there is a correlation between obesity and retardation. My study is in its infancy, but the early results look promising.

My internal dialogue was heating up. Some courage I did not know I possessed rose up inside me. I said, “Shut up fatty, that’s not a shirt, it’s a kilt. If you like, I’ll take it home with me and wash it with my curtains. Oh and you suck by the way, my back has been killing me the entire flight. Buy two seats next time you selfish animal.”

He was stunned, I could see the steam tooting out of his elephant ears. He roared, “What did you say?” (greatest comeback ever, by the way)

Drunk with animalistic power, I said: “You heard me, fatty. Now shut up and stop causing a scene. I’m not a lunch buffet. You can’t scare me.”

He sat in fat, stunned silence for the rest of the flight. Knock one up for the good guys, imo…..

(Disclaimer: Two of my best and closest friends are “big-boned” and I love them dearly. No offense intended. I only hate fat randoms who sit on me on flights.)

I’m thoroughly enjoying my little holiday in Australia, despite suffering from alcohol poisoning - there might be more retarded drugs than alcohol, but I’m not sure what they are - maybe paracetemol or pot?

The wedding on Saturday was lovely - I really like weddings, they remind me how socially retarded and immature I am. But it’s nice to see other people make relationships work. I’m very big on speeches, and I’m not an easy person to please when it comes to speeches or MC’ing, but the groom’s brother did a brilliant, unscripted job of the MC’ing and all the speeches were excellent - I was thoroughly impressed and felt I got good value.

The drinks were flowing extremely quickly, and I am a terrible dancer. This combination results in retardation, but I did do a very sexy and pretty tango with my friend Rodney before we headed out to a club and some of my friends were evicted for doing WWE moves on the dancefloor. I passed out not long after.

I slept for 15 hours, and despite needing another 15 hours sleep, I drove up to Brisbane to see my dear friends and spend another night drinking. I passed out again in Vos’ hotel room (he lives in Brisbane but his apartment is uninhabitable because he fell asleep in his shower and flooded his apartment). I know what you’re thinking - does his shower not have drainage systems of some kind? It does, but apparently his buttocks provided super effective plugging of the drainage system and the end result was his entire apartment got flooded as he slept on his shower floor last week.

I woke after a couple hours and felt very sober so I drove back to the Gold Coast. This was pretty retarded because halfway through the drive, I realised I was still completely drunk. At one point, I thought I was driving a computer game and laughed when my wonderful ABS braking system brought me from 120km/h to a deadstop in 2-3 seconds. As I sobered up, I realised this was not as funny as I thought it was.

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Something which is definitely also not as funny as it initially seems is the retardation that is Sarah Palin. The levels of her moronic stupidity appear to have no boundaries. After keeping her away from the media for weeks, the GOP allowed the mild-as-milk Katie Couric to interview her - the results were endless hilarity.

Couric is so tame, I’m pretty sure I could do a Couric interview and come out looking like Mother Theresa but apparently the incredibly easy line of questioning was too much for Sarah Palin, who dribbled her way through the entire interview, sending YouTube clip creators racing to upload clips of the interview.

CNN political commentators are calling her “pathetic” and even conservative commentators are calling for her to withdraw for the good of the party.

She is single-handedly losing this election for McCain - it’s really something special, I’ve never seen anything like it. Saturday Night Live has resorted to quoting her verbatim as comedy. It’s ridiculous and, in the words of Jack Cafferty, “pathetic”.

Obama is back under 1.50 now on Betfair, partly because of proof that the GOP cannot manage the economy and partly because Sarah Palin is just too stupid for words.

In other news, I want to marry Tina Fey.