Sooo were on the beach being marauded by about 30 kids....as is commonplace over here...and an upswelling from the depths of my bowels forces me to consider finding a toilet.

As luck would have it there are no toilets for a million miles in any direction so naturally a bush seems the next logical step. There was no bush. Or at least no bush without locals in clear view going about their daily business so suddenly the sea becomes an appealing alternative.

I tried to quietly shimmy down the beach away from the kids so I could go about my business that was all too quickly becomming beyond the realms of my control. This did not work. As soon as I tried to squat into the water, the very rough surf powered over my head and tried to drag me back to shore. I finally managed to ready myself in a gap between the waves when about 5-6 kids coming running over and throwing the ball towards me....little b******s!!

I waded further into the water and realised that this bad boy was coming. There was nothing stopping him now. Out he fired, just as a huge wave smashed over me, breaking Mr Hanky into a million pieces that floated curiously back to the beach.

I returned to the shore and then once again felt the urge. I wasn't prepared to drown again so it was a bush, waaaayyyy down the beach that provided the location for round two. As I reached the point of no return I realised I had inadvertantly squatted over an ants nest....poor little b*****s. Death by squitts....sad way to go