bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Saturday 6th March 2013.

Today is a quiet mend and fix day my panties need washing, so does the old grey matter it needs a spin to wash away the soap suds gathered after two hectic days  trawling through the tip of Malaya in a froth of oh my god and shit happens. First scary moment was stood in Singapore waiting for the 961 Bus after every bus under the sun passed my legs began to twitch, the sort of twitch, if one saw Brigit Bardot stood at the very same bus stop the clock ticked, a kindly local told me the 961 does not run until 8am..My bus for Malacca left at 8.30am the first shit of the day rose and not a smell of sweetness either..fuck Brigit hand went up for a taxi..phew i thought fucking phew but i made the bus..
The bus was that roomy cozy drifting thoughts of sex protruded, the mass ranked plantations of Palm Oil trees bloomed either side of the bus massed ranks for hours i thought i was taking the salute in some ancient army..i drifted into the British Empire era dream, the protruding sex vanished, as i thought back why indeed come all the way here and sit amongst these endless regiments in this dominant heat,no wonder Gin and tonic,madness and early death took the sail from the clouds up above, but there again which is worse this before my eyes or shifting through the northern cotton mills back home.
Malacca was reached in about four hours..still daylight, heat bounced up snapping at my pink skin another pink prawn said it, bollocks i thought,i sheltered under the canopy the in goings of this fine looking hotel had the trappings of gold encrusted Chinese from their teeth down to the rods which keep the cock in tune with the ancient Tang clan..the eye words between the Malayan lobby boys spoke of taking the piss..fuck it i thought not this hotel besides when did my panties enfold with gold ever.
Down the first main drag..many small hotels on either side all with receptions up narrow lit stairs also on offer was every massage one could find in a i thought..there is a time and a place so my dear old gran used to i cruised on eventually coming to a small neat freshly painted Muslim Hotel...the girl behind the counter smiled..i took the room the neat little pencil case given, held the room key, aircon, tv thingie, i smiled at the pencil case the feelings of school boy behind the naughty sheds etched as i felt my way to the room cl3ean and basic and yes i know it was a Muslim hotel..thankfully it had a sit up bog...but a big silver flex with a nozzle wash yer bum with that it said alright the wacky world of it's a knock out minus bog paper said do it and so i did...luckily a tile floor helped...
Malacca at first i thought shit..but as i took down the wall paper in front of my eyes,once i removed the doubt of why at i here, that vanity of could i do it, would i make it, the sometimes stare from pink skins with what the fuck are you doing here, should you not be in Benidorm working class shit or is that simply my own vanity playing games...
Malacca was an adventure throwing seeds to the wind i drifted feasting on sights sounds smells i laughed at the locals they took the piss out of me with a smile and wave of the hands i took at as read from one human to the other...i could talk about Northern England Muslims but they are not the same people so best left behind in the cool drizzle of Manchester rain the evening i went to the flicks costing me two quid i felt like a prince in a cloth cap..the film..The saving of General Yang....they like the volume loud in Malacca it was as if sitting on a butt plug in a howling gale however it was good, subtitled but with so much fast moving action the story was easy to pick up amongst the whirling of blades....Out of the aircon into the dark night the heat a hot glove a shroud strangling the skin,sent me into the Blob shop two cans of Anchor beer sat on the road watched the night drift and thought fucking hell lad, you have made it once more i have made it through another day in the fear of life.

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