Dirk Diggler's Decidedly Daring, Drunken, Downfall

Trip Start Sep 14, 2010
Trip End Ongoing

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Where I stayed
Angkor Western Guesthouse

Flag of Cambodia  ,
Friday, November 19, 2010

Hey Hey, My My
Rock and Roll Will Never Die.

Dick Dastardly and his better half's insatiable appetite for a bucket or 10 shows no sign of coming to a close, as we've swiftly become regular patrons of Siem Reap's finer nightspots; namely the grungie, atmospheric Angkor Wat? Bar that started it all round here.

They took a leaf out of their Thai counterparts' book and woke up to the Brit's unfettered desire to get bloody ruddy steamin' off the glorious little plastic receptacles.

Angkor Wat? is straddled nicely on Cambodia's answer to Khaosan Road; the aptly named Pub Street.

Some imaginations they have out here.

Nowhere near as mental or backpacker-centric as Khaosan; much more family-orientated, yet it comes with the customary Westernised locals sporting ridiculously British sounding names, and keen as fuck Tuk Tuk touts.

So why do you wanna go and put stars in their eyes?

As I'm writing this some fella left of me from London and too with a fondness for Asian girls has just piped up out of the blue.

"What you writing mate?"

Hmm...Tunes for Jason Mraz? People are wising up to that, fella.

"Blog entry mate. About 3 fuckheads from Britain; Brian Badonde, Desmond Decker and Walter Gilby."

After years spent frollicking and fucking around in Asia (literally), he remains free of any Cambodian or Thai STD, so there's hope for me yet. (ED: Mum, I'm joking.)

He too developed his unforeseen attraction to Asian Honeytraps akin to myself and my wingman, Desperate Dan, after frequenting the dark and dingy A Go Go bars night upon night.

Aaaanywho. Digressing yet again. Ol' Diggles has today been beset by a heady, lethal hybrid of inebriation, addiction to Gin and Tonic buckets, haphazard TLC in the hands of some indigenous Masseuse (Hooker) and a propensity to accept spliffs off random Irish pissheads at the merest drop of a Strag-Hat, leaving him in classic Cain style, making his acquaintance yet again with old Mr. Nod.

We're meant to be in Pnomh Penh now but, oh, what's that, oh yep, we over-fucking-slept.

Overslept?! Pull the other one!

Like a stuck record here.

Donnie Darko, by the way, got up close and personal with said masseuse last night after partying hard in Zone 1 and proceeded to vomit all over her room as she whispered sweet nothings in his famed ears (asked for Boom Boom).

Cunt of a response that Dirk! Spewin' remnants of carrot across her 5 by 4!

Fuckin' carrots! The fuck do they manage to worm themselves into every pile of sick! Dick had only eaten a fucking pancake all day! Keener than the fucking Thais!

Oh, hmm, yess, keenness. Not exclusive to Thailand that bastard of a concept. Our 1st day here and we're befriended by a local Tuk Tuk driver, wishing to act as our 'Guide' for the evening. Of course us obliging pair didn't want to come across as unfriendly British tossers, and so we were 3.

Took us to a nearby bar for drinks and what he kept insisting was 'free food' that the waitresses were bringing out. Still Dirk and I smelt nothing. Until the bill came with about 6 different fucking items and prices that, believe me, did not resemble Cambodian for any form of beverage. We'd only gone and fucking paid for this twerp's dinner. Seriously, the ways in which locals can bum you up the shitter are fucking infinite. New ones coined every second.

A new day, a new cuntstrick.

What else? Hmm, Eggy's knack of falling for many an Asian belle has led to unfulfilled promises of untold riches and boundless material gratification for a plethora of unsuspecting ladies. Gonna come back to haunt me, that.

Haha, oh and Damien Duff here has in his pissed up wisdom granted his very self a Cambodian Scooter's driving/riding licence! Kaschmoodling with a couple of birds the other night and we end up back at the Guesthouse, with he and I both linked in arms with our new found buckfuddies.

Dirk however, is not too keen on sharing the experience so intimately within the confines of the same room. And so with that a brainwave fell on Dick like a bolt of lightning.

He would attempt to ride the ped back to his bird's, with no clue of how to ride and 'no idea where her gaff was. And best of all, he could barely fucking walk! Never mind take her life into his hands solely in the pursuit of a fumble in the Cambodian jungle.

Turning out of our street and Dirk was first charged with negotiating the fucking mental roundabout that is seemingly lawless and outright unruly. Every keen Tuk Tuk driver for himself here. The route they take is merely the path which grants them the quickest access from A to B, paying scant regard to the green cross road or anything like it.

Somehow DD passed this first test, before absolutely flyin' past some local bizzie hot off the mark to get old Diggler in the slammer. Yet some fucking how Dirk evaded the officer before tearing up at a fucking temple!

A fucking temple! Not what you had in mind that, was it Dirk. After some more cat-and-mouse and tearing round Siem Reap with a gay abandon in the hope that his bird would suddenly reclaim her bearings, and the pair stumbled upon her place by mistake! The next day he was plied with Cambodian ice cream and made to watch local news bulletins hour on hour. Some cookie Dirk like.

So that's about a wrap. We set off for Pnom Penh in the south at 7. There for a couple of nights before our flight back to Bangkok for round fucking 4! Can't keep me away from the place!


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