July 5-12th

I returned home from Singapore, which meant I was legally allowed to do nothing for the whole week. Whenever you return from a trip you’re allowed to spend at least 5 days complaining about being tired and saying phrases like “my body clock’s all over the place”. Whenever I return from a holiday no matter how long I’ve been away, nothing seems to have happened. By that, I mean when I ask people what the gossip is, they always “nothing really”. Even if someone’s whole family got kidnapped and a hurricane destroyed their house, the only interesting thing they could think to say is “I got a haircut”. Speaking of this there is another law, I think between just male friends, whenever you get a haircut every mate has to say “someone’s had a haircut”: I’ve no idea why it’s just instinct or something.

As you can see I’ve not really written anything that happened this week because I’ve completely forgotten. I probably checked my email loads and went to Tesco. The reason I can’t remember is that my body clock was all over the place.

In my last post I said a monkey attacked me. In truth a tiny monkey (photo attached) jumped onto a branch of tree near me and it made my bum flap!

28th June- 2nd July :Anyone want a bag of whores?

This week involved me flying out to do gigs in Singapore, therefore my Fifa hours were massively slashed. The time difference and flight means that I can’t promise to stick rigidly to what happened between 9am and 5pm.

In the week leading up to departure, I was like a kid at Christmas counting the amount of sleeps till I left. I love everything about leaving the country: getting a pint in the airport Weatherspoons, getting felt up by security staff and watching toilet action films on the flight. This was the first time I’d technically been paid to go on holiday and it was awesome. Little word of advice: If your flight is experiencing turbulence don’t get a glass of red wine. On a completely unrelated note, I have ruined a t-shirt and pair of shorts.

I’d never been to Singapore before but heard lots about it, mainly that you can get a girlfriend half your age, which was not that appealing as I’m 24! It looks a bit like the world “Demolition Man” is set because it’s amazingly clean and illegal to do anything inc. spit in public, litter, carry any class of drug, pinch a woman’s bum but ironically it’s fine to get involved with some whores. As a bit of a renegade, I started my visit by dropping a can of coke on a woman who I was both grouping and hacking on, whilst stoned.

It’s a place that I can see would be fun to retire to as life is very easy. You can get a maid for £200 a month and you can buy reasonably priced women. The amount ex-pats banged on about the women, me and Alexis Dubus (other comedian) had to check out the notorious Orchard Towers commonly referred to as “4 floors of whores”. It’s a shopping centre by day and slag centre by night. I don’t really know why we went, it contained loads of prostitutes and ladydudes (as advertised): we had one beer then left. Also all the men were dressed in a shirt and smart trousers. I wanted to tell them all that there is no dress code when it comes to having it off with a prosty.

Loads of other stuff happened but I don’t want to make this too long winded. The gigs were a bucket of chuckles and the people were friendly (sometimes too friendly)
Here is a brief summary:

-An Indian Pirate tried to read my fortune
-A Buddist mugged me in exchange for peace
-I stayed in a hotel with a mezzanine floor
-I ate Stingray (payback for what happened to Steve)
-I saw a man spit on his own belly rather than the floor
-I went to a beach
-I got attacked by a monkey at the zoo: my love hate relationship with them continues