Malaysia

That’s okay, just rob me

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Well sod me,

If I’ve not just been bent over the side of an Indonesian banana boat and buggered by the man who, in the last email, I said looked like an Asian Forest Whittaker from the Last King of Scotland.

He said that if I paid him 1million RP, about 60 quid, he’d get my bike over from Indonesia to Malaysia on a cargo ship. Well he lied, because yesterday I went to set Dot free from quarantine and a man in a suit said ‘oh no, that was just his administration fee.’ I knew what was coming next. ‘Now you have to pay the real bill’.

And you know what, I wasn’t one bit surprised, lying and cheating is what the administrative lot do best out here. But still I ranted and raged. I don’t know what it is about this trip but it’s bringing out my colourful side, the one that argues and contest and waves and shouts. But I didn’t swear, not this time, just slowly accepted the inevitable that if I ever wanted to cock my leg over Dot again I would have to pay. How much? Another 60 quid. Add that to the 30 quid it cost me on the ferry and the crossing to Malaysia has shot a hole straight through my financial bucket. It’s now leaking, as is my backside…

I’ve got the trots, just can’t stop going. So now I’m clung tight to my loo roll in some hotel in Penang with the toilet one floor below and down a long corridor with only a light at the very end. It’s difficult to sprint whilst you’re clenching.

But clench I must, because today Dot needs a doctor. Riding from the dock she was all asthmatic and wheezing, making funny noises and threatening to drop dead on the dual carriage. Hopefully he can fix her and we’ll be on our way… across Malaysia and then into Thailand where I figure I can earn some cash if I change my name to Natalie and use my exploding bottom to fire ping pong balls at a room full of curious men.

It’s the only way.

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