Trip Start Mar 01, 2006
93Trip End Jul 09, 2006
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What's worse is that it reminds me of the depressing high-school assemblies, where the chaplain would show pictures of hungry people, people with no legs, someone blowing up a snail with a nuke, and other 'feel-bad' photos set to this kind of music. She would tell us that if we all held our breath for 10 hours it would fix the hole in the o-zone layer. Nice thought, dear, but it's not going to happen.
So, coupled with a depressing song and images of our old chaplain, is it any wonder that I wanted to fall back asleep and never wake up again. Except that I didn't want to fall asleep, because I soon discovered that these barbarians were actually French, and I wanted to find their room and give them a piece of my mind. It got worse, though, when they traded Lighthouse Family for French pop music, followed by really bad rap music. They then proceeded to talk to each other, in French, at the top of their voices. Why not do the logical thing of turning down Vasoline Dion and talking quieter, but no, these French love-making hippie-backpackers insisted on trying to wake us up further.
Well, I reached the end of my teather, and kindly asked them to shut up and let the rest of the hostel get some sleep, but being French they had the arrogance to completely ignore me, turn the volume up if anything, and switch over to French rap music.
If the thought of yr11 assemblies wanted to make you slit you wrists, then this latest development would have made anyone want to gauge their own eyes out with a hot boiled potato.
Eventually they finished their French love-making, switched off their music and checked out, leaving the rest of the hostel in peace, but also in a fit of rage.
I then thought it was a good idea to de-smell, and have a shower, only to find the French guy had not checked out, just decided to get there first. I could tell it was him because he was singing some French opera music, so I retaliated as only an Englishman could, which was to whistle Rule Brittania as loud as I could. It had the desired effect - he waved his white flag & ran out of the hostel wearing only a berret and his underpants.
If I'd caught them I day earlier I would have stolen their showergel, emptied it and refilled it with something like bleach.
Lastly, but most importantly, after my shower, I came down for some breakfast, to find some coward had stolen our coffee. I have come to the following logical conclusion about who stole it: The French annoy me, my coffee has been stolen. Therefore, the French have annoyed me by stealing my coffee. Q.E.D