Barry no Mates

Having been incredibly concerned by our lack of backpacker interaction, we decided to let our guards down and broaden our horizons.

Our first foray into the realms of gap yah friendship involved a fire juggler with a nipple piercing whom I accused of looking like he was in train spotting - unfortunately things snowballed from here.

Our next attempt involved 3 australians including a bearded pig rapist, a spectacled moron who had veeted the entirety of his body hair and a man who looked like a younger, uglier version of Sylvester Stallone. Liv was lucky enough to catch the eye of the hairless wonder who kindly offered to give her a massage. Things soon took a turn for the worse when Liv was politely asked if she would mind if he “tried something a bit intimate”.

I looked on in horror as the hairless wonder began to bite Liv’s back. Despite numerous pleas to try and lure us back to their swanky hotel and the promise of the pig rapist skinny dipping we fled the scene to find our hotel locked.

After screaming blue murder and standing in the rain for half an hour we were finally let in to sleep off what can be described as one of the worst hangovers of the trip. We know it as bucket death.