Comrades for Cunts: A dummies guide to watching this thing.

I’m not sure you realise it, but it’s the other cunt that’s the real loon in this blogger duo. She’s the one that’s going to spend this weekend running the ‘World’s Greatest Ultra Marathon’. Step after step for like 90-bloody-kilometres as testament to the glory and triumph of the human spirit. That’s almost a full 12 hours of triumph and glory, quite possibly covered in tears and some snot. I, on the other hand, will be drinking wine and eating oysters with my old pal, Chris. Now you tell me which of us is a bit mental?

Image found here

The horrors of packing

Any seasoned traveller will know the pain of deciding what to pack for their holiday. Despite all the adventures this cunt has had, that night before spent stuffing things into bags is a damned horror-fest of discarded shirts and undecided third, fourth and even fifth cozzies because… well, just in case. Then you have to fit those four sombreros into the car or jam your handluggage (read all your shoes) into the overhead locker when you squeeze onto the plane with all those other overweight (bags not bulge) travellers. And while we all like to think that we’re free-spirited beasties, even the freest spirit needs a clean pair of knicks to grace the under-carriage every day so don’t give me this ‘do South America in three months with nothing but a fannypack and some cargo shorts’ bullshit.