Fifi – Are you working ?

A simple question I asked while on the phone today.  I was talking to the local Taxi driver who has been ferrying the crew around on the boat.  Only afterwards did I realise that anyone overhearing that conversation would have quite naturally assumed I was talking to a hooker.

Fifi was my ride to the hotel.  My journey home started today, Wednesday 5th June.  I should arrive around lunchtime on Saturday 8th June – quite an epic journey.

Let me tell you something about Tahiti…………..cor blimey its expensive.  I sat at a roadside restaurant on saturday afternoon having a bite to eat, waiting for a live music festival to start.  A glass of red I thought and cast my eyes eagerly over the wine list.  My first impression was that my french was not as good as I thought.  That says £15 for a bottle, not a glass right?  Oh no Johnny Foreigner – thats £15 a GLASS.  I nearly shat my pants – thank Dibnah I checked first instead of uttering to the wiater as I sat down  ‘Vin Rouge á la Maison s’il vous plaît‘.

That would have turned out to be a £50 bottle of house red FFS!  Not being the extravagant type, a bottle of red normally comes in under 7 quid for me, quite happy with a soft, fruity and superbly chilled Merlot with a touch of vanilla and dark fruits accompanied by an also perfectly chilled bar or purple Milka.

Chilled red I hear you cry – why yes of course.  None of that wine snobbery for me.  If you like it, drink it, and always drink it the way you like it.  Never been one to suffer peer pressure.

I have two long flights ahead of me tomorrow.  The first leg is 8:30 followed by a second leg of 10:30. Let me share a thought.  I am not one for using the toilet on aeroplanes.  I always worry that just as I am dropping a log, we would hit a patch of heavy turbulence.  The plane would shake vigorously, separating me from the toilet seat for just long enough that my freshly laid turd could sneak out of the gap between my buttocks and the toilet seat.  As the turbulence continues, the now liberated turd would bounce around the cubicle leaving spatterings all over me in the process.  The turbulence would then stop.

Like a scene from Mr. Bean, I would then emerge from the cubicle splattered in shit with wet toilet paper hanging off my clothes and limbs and have to return to my seat for the remainder of the flight.

I have a special tactic for such occasions – It’s called ‘holding a poo’.  Tomorrow I plan to hold a poo from Tahiti to San Francisco OR from San Francisco to London, either one on its own, quite a spectacular feat.

I do have a 4 hour lay over in San Fran which should be more than enough time to release the beast if the turtle head is threatening to touch cloth.

Anyway – enough talk of poo.

A wave of nostalgia came over me late last week and I watched a bit of comedy from around 20 years ago.  Its hard to believe that it has been that long since the Staines Massive graced our screens – but believe!

Two of my favourite Ali G interviews are below – I only wanted to show one but couldn’t decide which. You wouldn’t get away with it today.