Another hungover morning, we got ready to climb aboard our coach to the ferry for Koh Phangan. The coach was bursting at the seams, packed like a tin of sunburnt snap-backed tourists. The only option? Riding shotgun with the driver! We blasted Blue and Westlife as we cruised through the strip and streets of Samui, honking loudly at baffled passers by.

We packed onto the ferry, whereby the only available space was sitting on the edge of the boat with my legs over the side being slashed by cool ocean water. I chatted to a Californian about the correct rules of beer pong, and before you know it, we had arrived at the most famous party island in the world.

We climbed into our transfer van, meeting 3 aussies, one of which unconvincingly tried to tell the driver that his name was Mickey Mouse, and he, and the Disney crew, had a reservation. Onwards to our hotel, we checked in, and headed for some food. My pad Thai was beautiful but contained an elastic band, apparently not a Thai delicacy....

We hit the strip, checked out the beach, and stopped by the spa. I wanted a pedicure, so Will had a Thai massage. Apparently over here, this consists of contorting your body into weird and wonderful positions, and cracking your joints. Or, Will was just a p****

Showered, changed and one bucket down, we hit the beach! We met a few Canadians and Kiwis, and soon, the party was in full swing. I, however, thought it would be an extremely safe and sensible idea to join in the fire show. They each held an end of a flaming rope, and swung it around for tourists to jump in. This seemed perfectly safe. 8 or so drunken jumps in, I trip on the flame engulfed rope, and fall flat in my arse in the sand. I run for the cool embrace of the sea water, and try to barter a boat trip from a local sailor. Seemed reasonable.

Another bucket down, music pumping, people dancing, the night began blur again. I do however remember taking that photo of the Kiwi girl on the toilet. Bless.

We found the Aussies (how?!) and partied more. Will then f***ed off to the jungle party whilst I stayed on the beach, fortunately looked after (and carried home) by the Aussies. I recall barking at passers by, and calling locals 'ting tong' which apparently means 'crazy' in Thai? Anyway, it's safe to say that I was truly gazeeboed.