From focused to fucked!!

Here's the next installment of ' OZ antics', it's pretty self explanitary!

20th march: FINALS DAY. GOLD, GOLD, GOLD, GOLD, GOLD!

Some fucking idiots stood outside my room talking bollocks for 2hrs last night, in their stupid drooling accents. Then again at 6am this morning- ass holes. Anyway after 12 hrs of no food I weighed in @ 63.10 kgs this morning ( in the nude, bollocks cupped in hand). I wont have to weigh in again til' july so happy days no more fucking dieting.

Just fucking hurt my back shadow boxing in my room but nothing too bad so still gonna bash borat's face in tonight, gold medal here we come. Just hanging around at the mo, this is the worst time and I don't even have a team here so no one to talk to. LONELY!!

Fuck me!!!!!!!!! That guy was the best I have ever fought, no way he was a novice. Tough Kazaghstani mutha fucker. Bashed me up good!! However, fighting is still great. Got a silver medal and a monster hangover this morning.

PARTY TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

23RD MARCH

WOW! It's been an amazing (drunken) few days. Since I finished boxing all I have done is party!! My fucking head hurts soooooo bad. Been kicking around with the FDNY ( Fire dept new york) guys, they're fucking awesome lads. Everyone round here smiles all the time, really good atmosphere. Can't be arsed to write anymore got partying to do!!

25th march

It's official, I can't drink! Went to the boxing finals on friday then met Bianca and we went out for a while. She is a great chick. She left about 0330am and I carried on drinking all night and half the next day. Got in a fight with some local gang idiots, Choked one of them unconcious but his mate punched me in the face whilst I was doing it and broke my nose again!! I just don't know when to stop. I am a prick when I've had a booze.

Anyway went to the closing ceremony last night- it's been amazing. Don't think i'll be drinking anymore- going to see Bianca tonight- she is set to give me a tour. Gonna be weird round here now the games is over.

Contender Muay Thai

I was watching the reality series Contender: Muay Thai this evening and it really brought something home to me. The programme is about 16 fighters who are at the top of their sport. Some are proven world champs, others up and comers being given a big chance to make names for themselves. Basically, they all fight one another in a knockout format, reducing the numbers each week until there are only 2 left. These 2 fight in the final and the winner gets $150,000 USD. That is mega bucks in Thai boxing. Obviously there is a lot to fight for.

In this series there were 2 Thai's. That amount of money would secure their families and many more for the rest of their lives in Thailand. These guys are from a different world to the rest of the contenders and have grown up in extreme poverty. They are also the best. A couple of weeks ago, by pure misfortune, the 2 Thai's were drawn to fight each other. They had been best friends for many years and fought out of the same gym back home. It was hard watching them trying to come to terms with this, they had to fight. Only one of them could advance.  One of them ended up knockin the other one out. It was heartbreaking to see the victorious guy stood in his corner, not looking remotely pleased to be one step closer to a lifechanging sum of money, watching his best mate getting oxygen and coming to without a clue what had just happened to him.

The competitors all live in a house with one another and become very close. They spend 24 hrs a day together and have very little contact with anyone else. Expectedly they become friends, they know that to win they're going to have fight each other but try to put it to the back of their minds. This week 2 more close allies fought. The end result was a devastating knockout victory. The victor was in bits, his mate was out cold and in a bad way. He had to do what he did in order to progress but it was abundantly clear that he took no pleasure from it. It's a harsh reality but in fighting there will always be a winner and a loser, although in my opinion anyone who steps into the ring is a winner as it takes imense courage. You will only really understand this if you have done it. 

My main point is the way that these fighters showed each other the love and respect really got to me and made me glad I am part of this way of life. There are not many other sports where the winner, and in extremely emphatic fashion, looks like someone has ripped his heart out.He is worried about his friend and fellow warrior so much that his success is marred by his friends trauma, I find it humbling. So next time you here someone branding fighters barbaric and thugish,aim a shake of your head to the uneducated idiot making these sweeping generalisations.

Oz Adventures.

I have just found my diary from my trip to Oz last year, I was competing in the World Police and Firefighter Games. I will be posting snipets from across the 3 weeks, note the difference pre and post competition. In other words the sober and drunk times!! Excuse the grammar but it's copied as it was written at the time.

12th, 13th, 14th march.

This is a fucking long journey!!

Had a result on the plane. Had a spare seat and also met this ozzie geezer who lives 6 months of the year in Thailand. Made a good travelling companion and also he had valium!!

Got about 6 hrs kip, watched Rocky and employee of the month (Jessica Simpson is fit btw).

Singapore airport is cool. Loads to do. Had a massage and fucked about on t'internet (it's free). There are some pics and articles from the fight floating around. I've been thinking about it and am happy and pissed off. I dominated round 1. All the articles say this. Why the fuck did I gas sooooo bad? Unreal and fucking annoying. I really should have won it. Gotta work out what's going on stand-up wise too!! Why do I never use my stand-up? DUMB ASS!!!!  This boxing tourney will do me good cos' there's no takedowns, gotta trade hands. I AM bringing home a medal....

It's fucking 2315, flight leaves in 35mins, hopefully i'll get some kip. Everyone's staring at me, I keep forgetting I got a shiner. FUCK EM' anyway.

Heaven in a Hot Room

So, I walked into the room, it was sweltering. There weren't many people around. I went to get changed and re emerged. A couple of lovely ladies had appeared, scantily clad and glistening in the heat, I was going to enjoy this. I placed myself in the centre of the room and began to relax. To this point I was the only male, result. I was really early so got to watch all the clients arrive, I was getting excited. I'm glad Big Ron talked me into this. Big Ron arrived and joined me in the middle of the room. By now there are chicks of all shapes and sizes dotted about the room, in various stages of undress. Some are sporting bras only, others are, thankfully, T-shirted up. Finally the instructor arrives and it's time to begin, the room is packed with mostly women. I would say it's a 4 to 1 ratio, if not more. However, the scantily clad thing isn't always a blessing. Seeing Big Bertha in her thong bending over isn't what I dream about of a night time. On the other hand the bird to my front is lovely and wearing baggy but tiny shorts (more on this later) and a little vest. The chick to my left is stunning and wearing see through leggings and a thong, plus a white vest and black bra. I was concentrating by the way, just happened to notice these things. What can I say, I'm observant!

The class is actually really hard, not to mention hot. I was sweating buckets and hadn't done a lot. I haven't done much yoga but this was the hardest class so far. Not only was it hard physically, the added distraction of some lovely ladies wearing next to nothing and sweating away without a care in the world, made concentration difficult. I was rewarded for my perseverance towards the end of the session, we were lying on our fronts, pulling our heels towards our heads (don't ask). The aforementioned babe in front of me with the baggy shorts must have been slightly stronger on her right side. Her shorts moved centimetres to the right and gave me a grandstand view up her jack and danny. Being a gentleman I...........continued to make the most of the opportunity presented to me and stared into the abyss for all I was worth. Sorry mum!!

In summary, Bikram yoga gets my vote. It's a bit like a dreaming your in a fitness video, except occasionally you glance round, see Big Bertha working it, and realise it's reality. Can't wait til' tomorrows class though- A great workout and perving opportunity of a lifetime, where do I sign up!

What's Religion Ever Done For Me?

I feel a rant coming on. What is the point in religion? It does nothing but cause problems and create divides. If there is an all seeing all knowing super power up there in the sky, sat on a fucking cloud, Lording over us all, he/she/it needs to get with the fucking program.

Why do bad things always happen to good people and vice versa. Why was my friend, a good man who never hurt anyone and gave his time to attend church, help others, gave his money to charity, robbed from this planet and his family and friends. Why are the scum that did it free and living their scummy lives??? Why have many of my friends had miscarriages when they've done everything right, don't drink, don't smoke and keep exercising then the village slut walks down the road pushing her pram with 2 kids in tow, one in her swollen belly. A fag in one hand can of beer in the other- It's bollocks.

Why do people blow innocent folk to kingdom come in the name of their lord and believe they are doing his work? People stand in the streets and preach hate in his name, this great and good lord!!! The only religion that hasn't caused a war is buddism, what does that tell us? I have been christened and dragged through church, attended sunday school and the rest of the bollocks, I don't buy any of it. The sooner religion is banned(which it never will be) the better in my humble opinion. 

AMEN

Pot, Grot and 8 Smoking Gangsters.

As we walked down the urban decayed street in West London I felt decidedly uncomfortable. I am not familiar with the area and am happiest when in North or East London. At least it wasn't south of the river, then I would have not been happy! We reached a decaying door and buzzed the intercom, after a couple of minutes wait we were buzzed in, straight down a set of stairs, through a set of double doors and into a lounge room. Various gambling machines were scattered around and a big black man welcomed us, he had a strong carribbean accent and only half of one of his front teeth. A big scar ran down the right side of his face. Despite his appearance he was very warm and welcoming. Scanning round the room, it was a shithole. No smoking signs stained yellow by the nicotine, how ironic!! 

An woman dressed in a short skirt and tight black top asked us if we wanted drinks. She had obviously been a looker in her day but that day has been a long time ago. Her lips were the victims of bad bottox which gave her a constant look of confusion. We were still waiting for a few more people to arrive. I ordered a coffee, when Pussy Galore fetched it to me it had scum floating on top of it and looked less than appetising. I didn't want to upset our host and make a fuss so I took a sip and placed the cup somewhere out of my sight. Pussy Galore was loitering, she wanted her tip, she wasn't on a wage. I gave her a quid and she scuttled off. I was checking out the competition, a couple of old carribbean fella's and some familiar faces from other clubs, nothing I couldn't handle. A couple of the guys were smoking spliffs and the smell in the room was dominated by weed and fast food.

Finally we were seated, it seemed that everyone was smoking. A quick head count and of the 10 players 7 of them were smoking. 2 of these puffing on joints. The smoke hung in a haze above the table and in a matter of minutes my eyes were stinging and my lungs burning. It was not ideal but I needed to put it out of my head. I maintained my usual quiet, unassuming persona at the table and was progressing nicely if not quickly. After an hour or so I was up but not by much. Then I started to feel weird, my normal persona dissapeared and I had turned into the proverbial chatterbox, I had all these gangster types around me and I couldn't stop taking the piss. I was doing it in my usual cheeky way and was getting away with it. I won a reasonable pot against the host, his scarred face turned into a smile and he said " you fucked me didn't you" there was no animosity and I replied " I prefer to say made love rather than fucked, I made love to you! " I said it then regretted it. The table was silent and I waited for his reposte. He just burst out laughing, as did everyone else at the table. I had got away with it. I think all the second hand smoking had gone to my head, I was buzzing and had developed verbal diarrhoea.

It turned out to be a very successful night and an eye opener. I will not be going there again though. At 5am we decided to call it a day, My eyes were burning my head aching but I was well in the black and achieved my aim. Next time I play poker I am going to make sure it's a non smoking club, it's disgusting.