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Better Keep My Mouth Shut?

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View Overland debacle on beatski's travel map.

Berlin, Germany – 8th September

Trying to manage to keep my mouth shut while I’m away on this trip is going to be difficult. Forget those light fingered vodka drinking Ruski’s and Polaks. What I need to avoid these days is loud machismo boys from English speaking countries. I of course am exempt from this category, beating my chest in public is not a feature of mine. What I think will get me into some interesting exchanges is my opinionated arrogance and my blatant sarcasm, which incidentally has gone completely unnoticed. Those alpha males just lap it up.

Meet Australian number 1 who bought himself some traditional German attire, let’s call him Mr Lederhosen, I unfortunately didn’t care to ask his name. It all started out well sat in the hostel bar. Mr Lederhosen had a limitless capacity to talk, I on the other hand didn’t have the capacity to listen, I gave him 10 minutes and then I just put him on mute. Which was ok, I don’t think he was speaking directly at me but rather at everybody. We never really shared a conversation after this point, I had him worked out and he knew it. But he was in the ‘group’ and so it was that we went to a Communist Bar in East Berlin where he proceeded to strip off his German Costume and pose for photographs with a naked and gay Glaswegian. Enough said.

The following day a mere acknowledgement of him in the vicinity of me was all I could muster. He was convincing others around him that 99% of people would kill if there were no criminal consequences. I knew what I wanted to say about that statistic, but I kept that one to myself.

And then along came Mr B, a 25 year old military man from Alberta, Canada. Mr B had no name, he was a number, he wrote it down but I lost it. Some people you have to avoid, take Mr Lederhosen for example, it was in both of our interests for us to deny each other’s existence, Mr B however was a different beast altogether, he was a big aggressive guy who enjoyed punching people on their arms. I wasn’t going to pick a fight with this guy nor let him punch me in the arm or sucker punch me in the ribs, I’m not Marty McFly. This was an interesting battle, one that I could only win with good old British witticism and a touch of pure sarcasm. If he was wise enough he would have noticed that I was playing around with his words and he would have picked me up with his forearms and put me on the naughty step.
When he was telling me about the Canadian Army drink the ‘Skull Fuck’ there was only going to be one outcome out of that. A ‘Skull Fuck’ is absolute idiocy and he happened to be sat right next to me, you snort the salt, you squeeze the lemon in your eye and then you down the tequila. It sounded like a pleasant drink which I would be happy to purchase for him should he wish to demonstrate. Telling Mr I Forgot His Number to ‘Man Up’ is questioning his male status and could be deemed as a hazard one should wish to avoid, but those boundaries kept on being pushed and without objection I may add.

We didn’t see much of Mr Canada after that; he was rinsing his sinuses out and having trouble sitting down properly. Never mind, there will be another one right along shortly.

Watch it for yourself.....

Article By David Beattie of Rounton Coffee

Posted by beatski 12:32 Archived in Germany

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Loving the blog dude! Hoping for more slagging off of our colonial friends soon :-)

by Matt Cooke

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