RSA

Achtung!

So another week, another update from Oz. Ok so maybe it’s been a little over a week but I’m lazy and finding the time to write these is pretty hard sometimes. Still no kangaroos but this is probably due to the lack of housing and employment available to them in suburban Sydney. Incidentally the lack of employment available to me in Sydney is pretty annoying too, over the last week or so we have applied in every bar and pub we have come across in our walks around the town and various other shops and restaurants. We have only come up with one job so far at a small café in a nearby shopping centre, which is great for travel costs (there aren’t any) but the pay is bare minimum. $10.50 PH, where bar work is around $17.50 PH. Hopefully over the Christmas period we will get some calls back when all the staff start sodding off to the beach with their families.
We had to pay out $110 for 2 courses in order to legally do bar work, so we’d really like to make use of that. What were these courses? Well in Australia you can’t legally work in a bar unless you’ve done what’s called an RSA (responsible service of alcohol) course and gotten the certificate to prove it. This is a one-day course where they tell you all the ways to spot a drunken person and all the ways to avoid serving them. You see in Australia it’s illegal to serve drunken people. It’s the same in England but they don’t take much notice there, where as here they are really harsh on it, if you serve somebody who is drunk then you receive something in the region of a $500 fine and the establishment gets an investigation into it’s license. I mean what happened to the good old days of watching your mates getting completely trolleyed, throwing up on themselves and passers by and then seeing them get dragged off to some fat heffers bedroom? That’s a real night out.
So I had to sit through 6 hours of listening to a man who was clearly the Australian equivalent of Santa (Rotund man, Short sleeve white shirt, reddish face, glorious white beard and moustache, took offence when I sat on his knee), talking about all the laws of the land, and how 5 years ago nobody took any notice of them. Then recently, what with the rise in barbecue related violence and the drunken slaughter of 600 possums by angry cricket fans, the RSA laws in which drunk people are no longer allowed to have fun became compulsory.
So now the only defence we have against people wanting to buy alcohol in a bar are these extremely convincing lines they taught us:

Swaying customer: “Barkeep, A glass of your finest ale!”

Me: “I am sorry, I am unable to serve you any more alcohol at this time, it is against the law for me to serve intoxicated people. Therefore at this stage I can only offer you tea, coffee or a soft drink.”

Swaying Customer: (looks befuddled, then glasses me in face)

Me: “ARRRGFLARGLE, MY PRECIOUS EYES!”

Second swaying customer: “Good day! Rum and coke please.”

Me: (bleeds profusely from facial region) I….I am sorry…unable to serve alcohol at this time…. Tea…soft drink.”

Second Swaying customer: (Looks confused then stabs me in chest with switchblade)

Me: “Blurk…my soft, fragile lungs, how quickly they fill with my own fluids. Damn you RSA!”

So you can all clearly see from this highly accurate and true account of a typical days work in an Australian bar, that RSA is an occupational hazard to us all.
Moving on, I also learnt that coffee does not sober you up, it simply makes a “More alert drunk”. Now lets think for a second, doesn’t that terrify you? I mean think back. When we are drunk we are much more intelligent, we find we can suddenly speak much more of a foreign language than we thought we could, we understand complicated topics and situations enough to ramble on about them for hours, we realise that we can do kung fu and could easily take down that gang of bikers without breaking a sweat, need I go on? No I think you see where I’m going with this, we could make use of all these superpowers that alcohol grants us if only we didn’t have the negative effect of alcohol putting us to sleep. If coffee makes a more alert drunk, then think of all the things we could achieve! If you ask me it’s not the average Joe having a night out we should be worried about, it’s all those homeless people and alcoholics we see on the street, I mean my god if they find out that coffee will make them more alert then they could rise up and rule the world. So tomorrow my friends I shall go to parliament and propose this: The systematic rounding up and launching into space of all alcoholics and homeless people, away from our precious coffee forever. I only pray to the heavens that we aren’t already too late.

If this article in any way has offended you, then please feel free to throw yourself down a well.
- Walexei.

Socceroos

When somebody you have never met says, “Hi, how are you” and sounds like they genuinely mean it, it really throws you off balance. You don’t expect it, you expect maybe a hello and if it’s a shopkeeper you might expect a “can I help?” in Grumpy tones, but you definitely don’t expect them to care about your welfare and when it happens you will tend to reply with an “Uh…. I’m fine thanks…” and probably forget why you were talking to them in the first place. Now imagine that everyone around you is like that, every time you walk into a shop people say “How you going?” or something along those lines and they really do mean it. You are Imagining Australia. Let me put it to you in a different way: Yesterday I bought an Australian sim card for my new phone and find out that I need to ring the company to register it. No big deal, I phone the number provided and get a recording of a lady asking me questions. Now In Britain the recordings are generally along the lines of “Hello, you have reached a monotone recording, please press 1 to be put on hold indefinitely, please press 2 to be cut off…” and so on. In Australia even the recording lady sounds really sociable, she asks you questions that you have to say yes or no out loud to and if she doesn’t recognise what you’ve said then she comes out with “I’m really sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, I was just asking if you want to register the phone to yourself” and she really does sound apologetic. Anyway eventually I get through to an operator and on top of registering my sim card the girl on the other end is actually talking to me socially, I mean asking me about what I’m going to be up to in Australia, what it’s like in England, what I’ve seen and all kinds of things. I mean I actually had a 10-minute conversation with a customer service rep as though I’d just met her down the pub or something. If you are Australian and reading this then you probably think it’s normal, but in England it’s a struggle to even talk to a customer service rep, let alone get them to do what you phoned up for before being put on hold so you can talk to somebody else and say everything you’ve just said and still finding out you aren’t talking to the right department and then finally being cut off and having to start again.

The Jetlag is what’s really hitting me at the moment; I’m only really starting to balance out, a typical day involved waking up at 2AM, not being able to sleep till 5, then getting up at about 9 and having breakfast, then feeling sick because it was 1AM as far as my body was concerned and I never get up at 1AM to eat Chinese food (I was in Hong Kong at the time). Then, lunch and more feeling sick, as I don’t generally get up at 4 or 5 AM to eat more Chinese food, in the evening it’s time for complete exhaustion and collapsing in bed at 10, then waking up at 1am (Hong Kong time) with my body angrily demanding to know what exactly it was I thought I was doing. Since I’ve reached Australia it’s been a little better, I get up at about 6am and go for a run (it just seemed right) and I don’t feel sick after breakfast anymore but I’m still getting exhausted at about 1 in the afternoon and need a power nap, which really doesn’t help.

In other news Australia qualified for the world cup for the first time in 31 years earlier, beating Uruguay in Penalties. Now let me tell you about an Australian game of “soccer”. It mostly involves Physically running into whoever has the ball and elbowing them in the eyes until they relinquish it, it then involves power hoofing it in the direction of either goal, usually ending up somewhere in the crowd. Following this is extremely loud cheering and some waving of blow up kangaroos. Oh and the Australian national team are called the “Socceroos” which is all very fetching until you realise that being called a Socceroo anywhere that isn’t Australia probably just means that you play for the local Disabled children’s team. Something that’s really quite funny about Australian soccer is the commentators, a lot of them are Aussie rules commentators and only do the football when it’s needed. As such, it seems that they have a really hazy idea on what aspects of soccer to actually get excited about, on top of this they are extremely biased toward the Australian team. A typical comment I remember was:
“And Stevens (probably) is making a real run up the wing! He’s reached the Touchline! AND IT’S HALF TIME!”
Not a clue as for what he meant by touchline, but it’s clear from this that the half time whistle was the most exciting aspect of the game so far, apart from the completely fair tackle where Aussie player number 4 almost broke somebodies legs. Anyway it’s late and I’m off to bed so that I can wake up several times in the night because it’s not time for sleep yet in England, and then I shall be awoken at 6 AM or so by the cockatoo that has taken residence in the garden.

Cheers - Walexei

Hong Kong

Howdy,
Just a quick post to let you all know I've reached Hong Kong, where everything looks exactly the same and neon lights are featured a little too much for my liking. Can't post much here as I'm in an internet cafe at a Pacific Coffee shop and there is a timer on how long you can use the machine, I have no wish to anger the locals. As soon as I reach Sydney on Monday night Ill post again with everything that Iv'e done so far and probably some pictures. Oh and if anyone is wondering, those anime shcoolgirls who run around giggling do in fact exist. As for NaNoWriMo, Ive realised I'm never going to have enough time to reach 50'000 words by the end of november what with going to Australia and everything so whilst I will still continue the novel and post new bits of it up, I will no longer be actually rushing to finish it. Oh and I can't be arsed to write about Bulgaria, it sucked anyway, the highlight was where I went shooting with real guns. Yes it was at targets as the Bulgarian idea of paying gypsies to run around while we go a hunting didnt appeal as much. Anyway, till Monday!

- Walexei

NaNoWriMo

Howdy, just thought id pop on to say sorry for the lack of update in the last 12 days or so, but as you know I’ve been in Bulgaria. I’ll post an update all about my hilarious misadventures starring the police, the staff of the Hilton hotel, Gypsies and guns as soon as I’m back in England. For now I’d like to talk about a task I have undertaken. On the 31’st of October I signed up for nanowrimo or National Novel Writers Month after seeing it talked about on www.fullyramblomatic.com . I read all about it on their site http://www.nanowrimo.org/ and decided to join the fun. Nanowrimo is a yearly event that anyone can get involved in, in which you have to write a 50’000 word novel in the space of only one month. You don’t win anything as such but you do get some sort of certificate if you reach the 50’000 mark. In any case it’s all just a good laugh and as good a reason as any to see what I could come up with. Let me say at this point that due to the time restrictions involved, the quality in some parts can be rather low and some of it may look rushed. This is perfectly acceptable as nanowrimo is all about quantity and not quality. Lucky me. It is however a start to an idea that I may develop on in the future. If you do however in youre future lives see my novel in the New York times bestseller then you can be sure that you are on a heavy dose of chemicals, or that I finally rule the world and therefore everything I write makes the bestseller list. Anyway without further adieu I present what I have so far:

Cheers - Walexei

Morning dew had settled on the few cars along this road, glittering in the hopeful rays of a dawning sun. It was a typical British spring Daybreak, with that rousing chill to the crisp air that you only really get on a bright morning at around six or seven. It was on days like this that some men and women threw open their windows, sucked in a lungful of air and then sung all the way to work, pausing only to have a short dance routine with the milkman and any number of street urchins who cared to join in. Luckily for mankind this mostly only happened in films set in the mountains of Austria where it’s illegal to behave any differently.
On this particular road two men shambled along looking disheveled and apparently completely oblivious to each others existence. The taller one was dressed in his usual attire of an immaculate black suit and expensive Italian shoes, although these clothes were now ragged and slightly torn in places having clearly seen some action recently. The mans longish blonde hair swept over his sunken eyes in an untidy fashion and the expression on his unshaven face was that of an man who had seen so much that nothing could surprise him now.
The other man was clad entirely in black cloth covering everything except his eyes. These same eyes showed complete exhaustion but were constantly on the move, scanning the environment as if something might jump out and attack them or try to sell them something at any moment. Slung across his back was what looked very much like a sheathed sword and secreted about his person was any number of sharp objects that were indistinguishable as weapons or tools. Neither man knew exactly where they were or where they were heading. Nothing was certain for them any more, not after the events of the last 24 hours, which incidentally had not included sleep. Eventually they came to a modern looking building with glass doors and an enticing smell wafting from it. The men’s eyes met for a moment, they shared a nod and began to walk with purpose toward the doors which slid open in a welcoming way, the fans above them briefly bathing them in warm air. The counter was manned by a lone young man labeled “Tim”. Tim looked no more than 16 and as such life had not prepared him for a morning like this one.
It was the shorter black clad one that spoke first:
“Greetings, I am Tetso Umazaki of the Genshin clan and this is my accomplice Dan West. We wish for a flagon of your finest rice wine and information on a man that may have passed through this area recently”
The other man seemed to be holding the bridge of his nose and slowly shaking his head, eyes closed. Tim was nonplussed. Tetso continued:
“He goes by the name of Dragon with tigers claw and would have been carrying the legendary Scythe of demons judgment which you would no doubt recognize.”
“Uhh Mr. Stevens...?” called Tim nervously toward the office
“For Christs sake Clive!” Exploded the other man whilst staring at Tetso in disbelief “for the last time, you are not a ninja of the Genshin clan, this is not feudal japan, there is no such person as Dragon with tigers fucking claw! Now will you please stop pissing about and order your McDonalds, keeping in mind that they do not serve rice wine.”
“Their sushi selection disappoints me” Said the apparent Clive.
“He will have the Filet o’ fish meal please and if you could undercook it as much as possible then that would be super. I’ll have a big mac meal and a coffee.”
“I…I’m sorry sir I…Um…Those things are all on the lunchtime menu and its breakfast right now…” gibbered Tim, eyeing the sword on tetso’s back nervously and looking close to panic.
“Oh that’s fine I’ll….” began Dan
“Do you wish me to dishonor my katana by cleaving you in two with it?!” cried Tetso looking furious.
Dan just sighed and put his face in his hands
“I’m so sorry about all this” he said to Tim who at this point was hiding beneath the counter and whimpering.

4 Days earlier.....

In Paris the rain was barreling down in a way that could only be described as torrential, or as BBC weather would put it “Bright with a chance of a light breeze from the west”. In the business district stood a building, completely indistinguishable from of the other buildings in this area. Bland on the outside and with a faded advert for an out of business cat food company on the roof. The main door just a large brown wooden entrance with a buzzer on the outside. Nobody knew what was in this building and nobody cared. For Twenty three years the agency had conducted all of its European and Asian operations from this building. Business that changed the world and yet the public was completely oblivious to its existence, the agency wanted to keep things that way.
The agency employed those with certain skills and experience, mainly as assassins or master thieves for hire to those who could pay the extremely large fee. However the agency also hired out bodyguards, although they didn’t call them that. They called them guardian angels, for the simple reason that if you had one of them looking after your welfare, you would never even find out that your life was in danger. Let alone that somebody had decided to pay the agency to keep an eye on you.
Greg Winters had a Darwinian approach to the running of the agency. More than once a party had paid for an individuals elimination only for another party to pay for a guardian angel to keep the individual alive. Normally an organization such as this would only take one of these jobs on for obvious reasons, but the agency considered it to be good practice for their employees to be pit against each other. Survival of the fittest they called it, who better to perfect your skills against than somebody of at least equal ability? It was for this reason that agents were introduced to each other only on very rare occasions. This was one of those occasions. He reclined on his chair in his office on the third floor and browsed the portfolio in front of him; it contained all of the usual data: Name, Age, description, recent photos etc. This one had a fairly standard background, but then that was odd in itself for an employee of the agency.
Daniel West had grown up in a normal suburban home just outside Reading in the UK, had loving parents and one brother. A very competitive individual, played rugby on his school team, his lanky legs and smaller frame put him out on the wings as a runner. Went to college and studied Biology but lost interest and dropped out after only two weeks, joined the army as an infantryman and was soon recognized to be a natural master with any firearm or explosive put into his hands. Served in the Gulf war in 1991 where after several acts of bravery and heroism and unusual initiative on the part of an infantryman he was recruited into the British SAS. Trained and operated with them for 6 years before the agency approached him discreetly and offered him a position. His competitive streak led him to accept almost immediately as the prospect of working among the best in the world as well as earning a pile of money enticed him. An accomplished assassin and guardian angel but not recommended as a thief due to his sometimes heavy handed approach to objectives (see report B-3375).
Greg chuckled at this last line; it had been added 4 years ago after Daniel was sent to southern India to acquire documents detailing the location of some treasure or other that was apparently important to the client. The documents were in possession of a wealthy landowner who lived in what could only be described as a heavily guarded fortress just outside Tuticorin. Not seeing the point of all this sneaking around and hiding in the shadows with a lock pick malarkey as he had put it, he simply crashed his helicopter into the section of the complex where the documents were being kept, shot 3 guards who had managed to get their wits together in the panic, grabbed the paperwork and sped out on a nearby convenient humvee.
The thing about Daniel West was that everything always seemed to be so damn convenient; there was always a nearby abandoned vehicle and a gate with one inept guard. The bad guys never seemed to just shoot him in the head, they always captured him and told him all their secrets before walking off and leaving his cell door unlocked and guarded by one man who falls asleep as soon as he sits down. The secret blueprints were always stored in the master bedroom in an easily smashed chest of drawers or the key was being held by the sultans wife who would only open it if Daniel promised to run away with her somewhere exotic. Then he always seemed to lose them by the time he was given his next assignment. Where was he hiding them all? Greg Winters dared not imagine Daniels home lest it be filled with a thousand angry housewives all demanding to go shopping and have shelves put up. The thought sent a shiver down Greg’s spine and reminded him it was his anniversary on Saturday.
Well this one will fix him thought Greg, this assignment will throw him to no end. He didn’t ever want to put his agents in unnecessary danger but he thought it was all going to easy for Daniel West so a challenge wouldn’t go amiss once in awhile. Even so it wasn’t the assignment that was so bad, it was more his partner on this that would be the problem.
The intercom on Greg’s desk buzzed causing him to spin back into reality. He reached down and pushed a button.
“Yes Hannah?”
“Daniel West is here to see you Mr. Winters”
“Thank you Hannah, send him in”
The door clicked open and in stepped the man himself, in his immaculate black suit and polished Italian shoes as always, his blonde hair tied back in a pony tail. He nodded a greeting to Greg and sat himself down in the comfy leather chair opposite.
“So what have you got for me Greg? Some eastern European businessman encroached on the wrong patch of oil? The President of Paraguay wants the Blue Ruby of Dagnakaer for his new wife?”
“Are you a religious man Dan?”
Dan’s eyebrows rose at this
“Is this about all those enraged leaders of the Hindu community? Because I swear I have no idea how all those cows got caught up in the combine harvester, it was a blind corner! And as for the peanut factory…”
“What?...No, no Dan it’s not about that, just answer the question please.”
“You know I’m not into the whole worshipping god malarkey Greg, I just do his dirty work from time to time and reap the rewards. Why do you ask old friend?”
“Well I didn’t think you were, but surely you’ve had some religious education?”
“Well I’m aware of basic practice of the major world religions, but I also take an interest in some of the stranger aspects of religious society. For example did you know that enough people in the UK put their religious standing as Jedi on the census form that it now qualifies as a proper sect, eligible to receive funding from the government if it so wishes?”
“No I didn’t, I must say that’s completely absurd”
“I take offence at that, I myself am a Jedi knight of the highest order” replied Dan looking completely serious and slightly hurt.
Greg sighed and shook his head.
“For the last time Dan, I’m not going to plow funding into the research and development department for them to try and build you a lightsabre, you’d only look ridiculous anyway. Now can I get on with what I was going to say?”
Dan looked dejected for a moment but then smiled
“Please do young Padawan”
Greg ignored this and continued.
“The Christian faith believes that the son of God, Jesus Christ came to earth just over 2000 years ago, did some good deeds and the promptly died for mans sins, The Jewish faith on the other hand refuses to accept that Jesus Christ was the son of God and is still waiting for the messiah to arrive upon the earth and save us all. I gather you are familiar with this?”
“Indeed I am, although I’m taken to wonder if this is going somewhere or if you have brought me here for some moral discussion and perhaps ask me to change my ways. I don’t mind either as long as you don’t ask me to help with a jumble sale or charity fundraiser to fix the church roof.”
Always with the humour, thought Greg. Dan certainly had an ego, but then who wouldn’t with a reputation like his? He won’t be laughing in a few days.
“Yesterday afternoon a woman by the name of Elena Wright walked into a Jewish Synagogue in Ohio, took to the alter and professed to everyone attendant that she is the daughter of God come to save their souls then went on to preach something or other, the details are a little hazy on that. Needless to say the congregation didn’t take it all that well and decided to forcefully remove her. I think after that she must’ve said or done something really bad because they congregation decided that they wanted blood.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time its never upset and Israeli welcoming party, they’re rather shortcoming on the sausage rolls and champagne” Mused Dan. The last time he had been in Israel he had parachuted into Jerusalem, released an alligator into the Parliament building, shot the minister for Justice and run off with his daughter.
“She narrowly escaped being lynched when the police turned up and arrested her for her own safety. Halfway to the station the arresting officer turns to the back to check on her and finds nothing but empty cuffs lying on the seat. They immediately searched the surrounding area but found nothing, like she just disappeared.”
“An act of God perhaps?” suggested Dan, Greg chuckled at this
“Well, the local police claim that the Handcuffs must’ve been faulty and the door must not have been shut properly but the arresting officer insists that he double checked both. In any case they aren’t too worried about catching her as they were only taking her for her own benefit.”
“A mystery eh, so where is she now?”
“Well our intelligence has tracked her throughout Ohio; she seems to just be wandering aimlessly at the moment. The incident occurred in Dayton and since then there have been more minor reports of incidents at Synagogues in Fairborn and Springfield after which she’s just disappeared into thin air again. Given that the most recent disturbance was only two hours ago we suspect she is still in the Springfield area. So far the national press is taking no interest at all and the local press is just passing her off as a wacko, makes a good filler story.”
“So who’s to say she isn’t?”
“The people paying us an amount of money I can’t disclose to keep her alive. It seems they think she’s in more danger than just being lynched by some angry Jews, and for some reason they want us to keep an eye on her make sure she doesn’t get into trouble too deep to handle. Personally I think she’s just a crackpot ready for the funny farm but then we don’t get paid to ask questions. Here take a look at this.” He chucked a brown envelope into Dan’s lap and then sat back.
“Wow I’m astonished Greg” Said Dan, looking genuinely surprised.
“Shocking isn’t it?” replied Greg.
“Definitely, it’s this month’s issue of ‘Slender boys in skimpy shorts’. I had no idea you were into such things Greg.”
“What?! God no…wrong envelope…not mine!” was all Greg managed, eyes wide. He seemed to be hyperventilating, attempting to hide, find the right envelope and snatch the one Dan was holding back all at the same time resulting in a frantic dance, sure to entertain royalty but completely inappropriate for the office environment. After much kafuffle, in which the right envelope was found, the wrong one hidden and Dan West forced to take a vow at gunpoint to never talk of the events of the last 5 minutes, Dan was finally looking at the right documents and saw what was shocking. This woman, no, girl as she could be no more than 22 years of age was beautiful. Not just beautiful but absolutely stunning beyond all imagination. He found himself sitting there with his mouth wide open and just staring when Greg finally spoke and broke his trance.
“Tell me Dan, what colour is her hair?”
Dan thought this a rather silly question; surely Greg had seen the photo hadn’t he? However he was so taken aback by the sight before him that he just answered straight.
“Blonde, long and blonde, almost damning to the eyes.”
“And her eyes?”
“Green” whispered Dan.
“That’s really funny you know because I could look at that picture now and swear she had the finest locks of red hair and shining blue eyes. I think If I called in my driver Robert he’d see a girl with a Latino complexion and Brown eyes, he goes for that sort of thing.”
“What are you saying Greg?”
“I’m saying that this girl is not altogether you’re average young suburban housewife. It seems that people see her differently, at first we thought it might be that people only saw their idea of perfection but some local news reports her as being an old hag or a grossly overweight burn victim. Were not sure exactly how it works yet but then to be honest it’s only really out of curiosity that we care, as long as she stays alive we get paid.”
“Well you can count on me as always Greg, when do I fly out?”
“As soon as your partner gets here” He seemed to relish the word ‘Partner’. Dan didn’t like the sound of it.
“I’ve never needed a partner before, they only get in the way, you don’t trust my abilities anymore or something?”
“Actually our clients have requested that there are two agents on this job at all times, and I for one am completely willing to abide as long as they cough up. Don’t worry; you’re being paired with one of the best agents ever to grace this office. Well most of the time anyway. Well sometimes.”
Dan began to protest but then something in the corner caught his eye, it was as though the shadows had just moved and re-adjusted. Dan rubbed his eyes and stared for a moment. The he looked at Greg who simply smiled and said”
“Dan West, meet Clive Harolds, although at this time I think he prefers to be called Tetso Umazaki.”