Hi all

Into town then and we disembarked a few stops after the scraggy trio, at a place the driver assured us was resplendent with watering holes. It wasn't. Well, not the kind we wanted anyway. So after getting directions from a couple of locals who happened to cross our path and had made the mistake of making eye contact, we were off up a side street. There in front of us were two of the worst dressed eighteen-year-old girls I've ever seen. One had a white t-shirt that was ripped to bits and had things written all over it in felt tip pen and the other was dressed in purple and black. The one in white had something written on her that started 'I'm not suicidal' but we couldn't quite work pout what it was it said. Emboldened by the brew we caught up to them and politely asked how it finished. The complete sentence was 'I'm not suicidal, I'm a baker'. Me and Mand looked at each other feeling a bit stupid, but sensing our confusion she showed us her arms. Which had burn marks all over them. Now it made sense. Although it's still not exactly hilarious. But we got chatting to them anyway and it turns out they'd been refused entry to the casino because of the way they were dressed, but were gamely heading to a sex shop to buy something a bit classier. That was the moment I fell in love with Adelaide. The other one was pissed off because the bouncers had taken all their drugs off them. As she said it she made a game attempt at swallowing her own head from the bottom up and rolling her eyes. Mand took one look and said 'Ah, looks like they didn't get them all though eh? I reckon you might have managed to eat one before they took them' which caused them to go off into a fit of belly laughter that was a joy to behold. I guess you had to be there...

After stopping for a McPiss we made it to the sex shop and after much pawing of the goods (so to speak) and after asking my opinion on which of the ahem, classy outfits suited them best and trying their best to frogmarch us back to the casino with them, we reluctantly declined and said our fond farewells. Wonderful girls, but wanting to go our own way (bar crawl) before we got to a club, the casino just wasn't going to cut the mustard. But it was a top start.

We rolled out onto the street and headed for the bar with the loudest music and when we got in and upstairs were a little surprised to find it was pretty light people wise. But the music was crash hot so we danced our booties off for half an hour and before we knew it we were centre stage. Lovely. With people grinning at us and coming over and randomly introducing themselves it became pretty obvious that this was a bar with a serious regular crowd. One girl (she must have been about fifteen, three feet seven and looked petrified) came over and squeaked something at me. 'WHAT?' I bellowed back. 'Have you got any E's' she squeaked slightly louder. Not quite sure if I'd heard her right I moved closer and she jumped back about three feet. 'I can't hear you' She moved about an inch closer. 'Have you got any E's for sale?' I looked at her stunned. 'Nah, I'm just a good dancer' She took another step back 'Do you know anyone in here who has?' 'Hardly love, I'm from England. Only been here about twenty minutes' 'Would you be able to get some for me?' 'From England? Sure. I'll phone my mate, they should be here by about Christmas' Blank look 'Why don't you go ask that bloke over there he might have some' I waved my hand vaguely, a motion that made her cringe like I was going to put the Smackdown on her. 'Just tell him you know me and he'll probably sort some out for you' 'Ok, thanks' 'No worries'. And then she went and sat down again with her two female mates. Bizarre.

After a few more beers we decided to move on and on the way out got chatting to the bouncer who was from the North of England somewhere and was an ex-para. He hated Australia and everyone in it, but not as much as he hated England and everyone there. But he did tell us about a couple of bars we could try (they turned out to be f***in miles away) and kept telling me to watch my girl because she might get kidnapped by the locals or something. Seriously. Kept grabbing my arm in his Action Man Gripping Claw like clasp, staring into my eyes like he was imparting the most crucial information I was ever likely to need and going 'You have to look out for her son'. Too much Desert Storm I reckon.

The next bar we tried to get into we chose because it had a queue outside. Must be good right? We asked the bird in front of us what was going on and she told us it was some kind of dance night. She also looked at us like we were mad for wanting to go in. 'It's fifteen bucks each' she said about twenty times. Taking this as a sign, we headed on to the next one to catch our eye. This was called the Tequila Bar.

We asked the door blokey what the crack was in here and he kind of grinned and said 'it's alright for a quick one'. 'Do you only sell tequila?' 'No' 'Why's it called the Tequila Bar then?' 'Just is' 'Do you sell Sambuca?' 'Yep' 'Say no more my old c*** sparrer'. The last was just in case he was in any doubt by now that we were English. In we went and the doorman proved correct on all counts. It was sleepy like a coma, and did indeed sell Sambuca. We amused the three other people in there by doing three or four flaming ones in about two minutes and then took our leave, thanking the doorman for his concise description of the place.

Next up was a huge black set of doors with three deadly looking bouncers outside. As we went to go in, one of them stops us and goes 'You sure you want to come in here?' 'Yeah, why?' 'Just wondered. It's twelve bucks to get in'. This is the second time tonight. Do we look poor or something? 'Yeah man, that's cool'. Then Mand has a moment. 'Is this a gentleman's club?' The blokey grins. 'Yep' I look at Mand 'You wanna go in don't you?' I ask already knowing the answer 'Yeah, too right' Now the thing is, while we were hesitating, the head doorman comes over. 'You're from England right?' 'Yeah, only been here about twenty minutes'. 'Don't worry about paying then. In you go. Welcome to Adelaide' and shakes my hand in his gorilla like grip. f***in sweet. Inside and the place is really plush. We grab a couple of beers and sit down to watch the BOBFOC on the stage gyrating on the pole. Next to the stage on a huge screen is some footage of some seriously fit birds doing the same. Look what you coulda won. The girl holds our attention for about three seconds, and then we start looking around at the other patrons. There's a couple of groups of blokes but there's also about five blokes on their own, eyes transfixed on the stage. I find this a little bit sad to be honest. At least I was there with my bird...which is so much better. Ahem. After twenty minutes or so of making up stories about the other patrons and generally being drunk and disorderly we decided enough was enough (Mand by this point was telling me she could do better than that on the pole and was threatening to prove it) we took our leave and after thanking the head doorman again went in search of somewhere else so we could have a dance.

This turned to be a bar that was holding a wedding reception. After being repeatedly told it was a private party and after repeatedly telling everyone that it was ok we were with Dave and that we were only stopping for one they reluctantly agreed. Within seconds we were up on the dance floor showing these nay sayers all our best moves. Some of them had Christmas cowboy hats on and Mand managed to procure one, and we spent the remainder of our time there swapping it back and forth and gyrating for all we were worth. Eventually, the DJ told us this was the last track and we really went for it, banging people out of the way and generally pissing everyone off. When it had finished I led the calls for one more track and refused to let the DJ out from behind his decks and was promptly joined by half a dozen of the guests. Alas, it was not to be so we headed for the exit, with Mand still wearing the hat. At this point, the guy whose hat it was decided he wanted it back and began shouting and pushing his way towards us. We bundled out the door, knocking guest flying left, right and centre and took off running up the road, while matey and a couple of his mates made a serious attempt at chasing us. Much legging and laughing later, we managed to lose them in the crowd.

As we headed down the road we got chatting to another couple of girls (why was it never like this when I was single?) who took us to a basement bar. They went and joined their friends, we got a couple of beers and Mand headed to the toilet, leaving me t*** to the wind in a bar full of strangers. Game on. I joined a random table and thunder talked the seven or eight people sat there for what felt like ages (they loved me and tried to get me to stay with them - not something that normally happens) but eventually Mand (still resplendent in her bright red cowboy hat) returned and we were off dancing. In fact we once again turned into the main attraction. And would you believe they played a Bob Dylan track? I can't remember which one, but I was the only one who knew all the words. That much I guarantee. By now the sweat was dripping off the ceiling so I figured I should take my shirt off. I got about halfway through when one of the girls who'd come in with us appeared and, laughing her head off, helped me put it back on. She even did the buttons up for me. Bless. Eventually we decided it was time to find another bar and stumbled off into the night. Only to find that everywhere was closing up.

We walked about ten yards up the road, I turned to Mand and said 'Let's sit down for a minute and have cigarette and she agreed. I sat down on a bench, sparked up and when I turned round Mand had disappeared. Completely disappeared. Hmmmm. Not good. But deciding the best thing to do was to sit and wait exactly where I was, this is what I did. Needless to say my beloved never returned. b******s.

So now finding myself alone, surrounded by people who were every bit as drunk as me and worrying crazily about Mand, I decided the best course of action would be to go jump a cab and hope she'd do the same. This was so much more easily said than done. To begin with, everybody in Adelaide was trying to get one too. Secondly there seem to be about four cabs in the whole f***in place. Thirdly, there are only about three places you can actually get one from. In short it's an absolute shambles.

As I was walking up towards one of the taxi points I saw my first fight of the night. Some black dude cracks this white guy. The white dude chases him round a corner, yelling for all he was worth. A couple of seconds later and the guy comes back round the corner being chased by the black guy and about seven of his mates. They caught him and began giving him a righteous kicking only to be interrupted by the police. Who then arrested the white guy. I stood and watched in absolute awe. And then had a good laugh about it with the random stranger who'd watched along with me. During the hundred-yard walk up to the taxi point I saw another four fights. It appears that they don't go in for any of this male posturing 'who's got the biggest chest' we go in for in England. They just punch f*** out of each other. At least in Adelaide.

Eventually I arrived at the designated taxi point and it was obviously f***in heaving. This was also when I realised that I didn't have the faintest idea what the name of the campsite was or where it was in relation to town. Pisser. But not to be deterred, I promptly started chatting to anyone in the queue who'd listen.

First up were a couple of identical twin girls. After my initial gambit of saying to one 'Has anyone ever noticed how ugly your sister is?' (an oldie but a goodie) and got a genuine laugh in response, I proceeded to tell them of my dilemma and tried to probe them (so to speak) for information on where the f*** the campsite might be. For some reason, one of them started being really arsey and her sister explained that she hadn't gotten any sleep last night and was now moaning. I cooed at her in my best baby voice, something along the lines of 'ahhhh wassamatter, are you all gwumpy cos you wanna go bed?' which endeared me to her not at all. The friendlier one then shocked the b******s off me by telling me I could just stay at their house. The grumpy one then started pulling her away up the road. Where they managed to flag down a passing taxi and were away into the night. Sweet.

Next up I got chatting to a couple of lads who were funny as the proverbial. When I mentioned my plan to learn Muay Thai they informed me that they were members of the best Muay Thai club in Adelaide andpromptly began showing me the basics. Beautiful. The smaller one just kept going on about how tough he was (but in a nice way) and we were having a pretty good laugh. Then a bunch of about five of guys walked past and Shorty says something to them. I didn't catch what it was, but these boys just turned round and started giving it back. Shorty starts telling them how tough he is and how they'd better just f*** off. The guy says something and Shorty puts his hands up in a guard position and says 'f***in come on then' or words to that effect. This matey throws an absolute beauty of an overhand right that crashes through Shorty's guard and sends him flying about ten yards backwards across the road. I swear he was f***in horizontal at one point. Cue pure chaos as these five guys pour over my two former friends and generally bash the s*** out of them. This brings the inevitable police car full of officers who, following tradition, then threaten to arrest the two guys who'd gotten the s*** kicked out of them. When it had all calmed down the two heroes come back to talk to me Shorty with a nose like a cauliflower and blood all over him), but in a kind of shame faced 'oops we f***ed up' way. Either that or they were gutted that I hadn't jumped in to help them. But no matter. After a couple of half-hearted attempts at banter they disappeared into the night, sans taxi.

By now, the crowd had thinned out considerably and I found myself chatting to a couple who were waiting for their mate to pick them up. And they knew the name of the campsite I wanted to get to. Or at least they thought they did. Unfortunately their mate point blank refused to give me a lift cos it was on the far side of town in relation to where they wanted to be. Fair one.

But never mind because the next group of guys turned out to be British. And gimps. After much lighthearted banter I was seriously beginning to despair of my chances of finding the campsite and decided instead to throw myself on their mercy. I promptly bounced right off again after I inadvertently upset one of the girls by telling her she looked like a brickie (she did though. Seriously. Huge hands, square jaw and a set of whiskers that'd make Captain Bird's Eye blush. But at least they let me grab the next taxi without contest. Unfortunately the guy spoke about four words of English and was absolutely f*** all help as to where my tent could possibly be. The group of English behind me piled in and without a backward glance set off for their doubtless huge warm comfortable beds. Grrrrr.

Finally though, I met my saviour. A local Aussie bloke who actually knew not only where the campsite was, but what road it was on, and even the name of the pub me and Mand had been drinking in all that time ago. Beautiful. So beautiful in fact that we let about twenty taxis go by as we sat and chatted s*** to each other. Eventually my new best friend decided enough was enough though, flagged down a cab (which by now were everywhere) told the driver the campsite and the road it was on and with a fond farewell I was off. His parting shot was a 'classic'. 'I can't believe I just sat and talked to a Pom that long without mentioning the cricket. Good luck with the rest of the Ashes, eh'. Twat.

By now, the sun was coming up and it was with great relief that I suddenly recognised the road we were on as being the one we'd walked up earlier and there was the pub. Beautiful. Now all I had to hope for was that Mand had found her way back safe and sound.

Out of the taxi and I walked back through the campsite with the sun beaming down and there was Mand bathed in the golden glow of dawn. She was sat in the middle of our not yet erected tent and trying gamely to put it up on her own. Bless. After an almost tearful reunion we put the tent up and crawled in. It turned out that when she couldn't find me she'd gone back to the club and waited until the kindly bouncer had sorted her out a taxi. I'd actually walked back past the club on my way to the taxi rank and she wasn't there. She says she was. We've agreed to disagree. And so as the sun dawned and the tent warmed up we snuggled down, both thoroughly content with what we'd seen of Adelaide so far. It'd been emotional.

Laters all

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