It was an obscenely early start, the taxi was booked for 7am, it was our Ladyboy spotting friend from the day before.  Breakfast at the airport consisted of the new holiday favourite, but with a twist. This time a Tuna toastie rather than sandwich, number 77 on the menu for your notes.  The flight to Dubai was decent, no problems.  I watched the film Seventh Son with Jeff Daniels, Julianne Moore and the lovely Alicia Vikander…  It was a touch cramped for my liking, I’m not sure why they didn’t watch the film on their own TVs.  Still, I wasn’t going to turn away the company.  We arrived at 1pm and the airport was surprisingly quiet, we rushed through, caught a cab to Hotel Rowana on Jumeirah Beach (100 AED = £18 at the time of writing).  I soon remembered why I disliked getting taxis in Dubai as everybody drives like lunatics.  The motorways consist of seven lanes (at the time of writing), that’s seven lanes of cars driving as fast as possible, tailgating right up each other’s arses, overtaking, undertaking, total mayhem.  Surprisingly, we made it to the hotel unscathed.  The hotel was in a good location, ultra swanky and plenty of Ferrari’s parked outside, we were in our element.  We checked in and to our delight were told we had been given an upgrade, excellent news.  We got to the room to discover we only had two beds, but there were three of us.  What were we upgraded from? A single?  We complained and Ruby Bill was given a rock solid fold out bed, which he was happy about.  He was even happier when he found out we had no Wifi, either we weren’t allowed or we had to pay extra.  It was disappointing.  All the excitement of the outside of the hotel had been tempered by the disappointment of the inside of our room.

We decided to have a nose about the rest of the hotel and get some food.  Entering the elevator we were confronted by a fairly sub-mediocre looking man, well he was no oil painting, who was flanked on both sides by two stunning tall blonde women wearing skimpy outfits and holding balloons.  There was some giggling and whispering, possibly in Russian, but we didn’t want to annoy the other people in the lift so we quietened down. Trying to avert our eyes we stared at the ceiling hoping the lift would get to whatever random floor we were getting off at as quickly as possible.  The lift stopped at level 3, this would do, we left the elevator with our tails between our legs.  Here we were, the Rosso Bar, looked nice enough. I polished off the biggest Calzone they had and washed it down with a £9 pint of lager.  After filling up on food and drink we needed to stretch our legs, we stretched them into the 46C heat outside…We tried to walk but it was too hot, we stopped at every air conditioned cash point we could find, which was pretty much every few metres.  We couldn’t handle the heat any longer, we popped in an old friend, the Hilton Sports Bar.  It was Happy Four Hours!  Only 28 AED a pint (£5.50 at the time of writing), so we had four pints each to celebrate.  We had inexplicably got our drinking groove on in one of the few countries where it’s almost illegal to drink, well, you can only drink in the hotel bars and you can’t be seen drunk in public.  The Speakeasy Bar at the Ramada Hotel was next on our hit list.  A few Heinekens were consumed in here, an acoustic act played, but once they finished we commandeered the jukebox, cranking out the tunes.  Our popularity with the bar’s other patrons soared, peaking with Tom Jones’ Help Yourself.  Everything was right with the world.  We arrived back at the hotel at 3AM a little worse for wear, a slightly dubious thing to do in Dubai.

Green Cardamom Pods, Bruised

It was the morning after the night before and we all had hangovers, not the best start to the end of the trip.  The best way to shake off the hangover was to go outside in the forty odd degree heat and completely dehydrate, that would sort us out.  It was simply too hot, forcing us back into the air conditioned ATMs whenever we saw one.  If viable we could’ve spent all day inside an ATM (although there probably wouldn’t have been enough money in one of these to pay for one of those Russian escorts), but we spotted Bob’s Diner opposite, it was possible to make it across the street without being in the heat for too long.  It was like the sequel to the old eighties arcade game Frogger that never got made.  Instead of Frogs trying to get to the other side of the road while avoiding getting hit by traffic, this would feature three out of shape grown men trying to get across the street without collapsing of heat exhaustion, while also avoiding pedestrians and traffic.  That game would’ve been a sure fire hit, anyway, we made it to Bob’s Diner, no lives lost.  It was an authentic American Diner right in the heart of Dubai and very nice too.  The free refills of Coke and Sprite were a god send and went down a treat, as did the obligatory Philly Cheese Steak sandwich.  Ruby Bill and myself were feeling slightly better by this point, but Pat Rambutan was struggling, he headed back to the hotel.  The Hilton Sports Bar felt like the right place to watch Malaysia All Stars v Liverpool in a friendly.  It was a dire game, we battled through it by drinking one apple juice, two pineapple juices and one random Amstel.  The match ended 1-1.  I’m afraid to say that after an epic holiday we went out with a massive whimper, an early night, as we did have to be up at 5:30AM.

Dessert Figs, Coarsely Chopped

Out of bed with no hangover at 5:30AM, taxi at 6:45AM, flight at 9:10AM.  Unfortunately the flight was delayed by one hour and ten minutes due to a passenger putting their bag on the plane but not putting themself on the plane.  According to the pilot that person would be put in prison until the plane lands at it’s destination.  Hopefully that’ll learn them.  Even though we were grumpy at the delayed flight, Matthew the air steward was impossibly happy for the whole flight.  Maybe his holiday was just starting but ours was drawing to a close, we landed back in Blighty at 2:30pm, signifying the end of our Asian adventure.

A slightly delayed sequel.  Now where were we?  Ah yes…

Slowly the door opened, revealing the true horror that was hidden inside.  A naked hand attached to a naked arm clung to the door handle, fingers tainted yellow from years of tobacco abuse coiled themselves around the door handle.  Our horrified eyes followed the line of the arm from its  natural end back to its unnatural beginning, it wasn’t a sight for sore eyes, let alone our obscenely hungover eyes.  The naked arm was attached to a semi naked Ruby Bill Silks lying comatosed in his bed.  We hurled abuse at him, it was precisely 1.5 hours before our coach was due to leave Singapore and he was in bed and hadn’t packed.  This called for desperate measures, he had to forfeit his shower.  Although we left later than planned we still arrived at the bus station on time.  We had a gruelling journey ahead of us, although this was slightly improved by the coach being equipped with massage chairs, as standard.  The coach took us to the Singapore border where we went through customs and changed coaches.  Six hours passed quickly, with one brief crisp stop half way through (BBQ flavour), before we arrived at our destination…Kuala Lumpur.  We hailed a cab to take us to our accomodation, it certainly wasn’t a conventional taxi ride.  Driving with our bags in the boot, with the boot open, only being held down by an elastic band.  Nevertheless our bags were still there when we arrived at Lanson Place Apartments.  My my, what an apartment this was, probably the greatest apartment we had ever stayed in, absolutely huge and perfectly clean.  We took a stroll down the road to the Changat area,  a full on loud, brash, touristy strip of bars, it looked like us.  We popped in a bar to catch some Davis Cup tennis on TV, only to be met with a very forward, over friendly barman.  “Sex on the beach sir? Slippery nipple sir? Blow job sir?”.  I was quite taken aback, I’d only just arrived in the city, and the country for that matter, yet I was being bombarded with sexual requests by a strange man.  He handed me a menu and it soon became apparent he was merely enquiring into if we would like one of the vast array of cocktails, nothing untoward at all.  Breathing a sigh of relief we pulled up three stools and got stuck into a few cocktails.

Tablespoon of peanut oil

We headed to Racks for breakfast and a 5 Day Booster fruit drink.  The previous night had been fairly respectable, home by midnight, but we were feeling a touch run down and needed a boost.  After the pit stop we set about attacking our plan for the day, which was to visit the Kuala Lumpur tower.  We got the mini bus from the car park to the main entrance, which was further than expected.  Upon exiting the minibus we were immediately set upon by a salesman.  For 105 Ringgits we were promised great views from the very top of the tower and also a complimentary drink.  The views from the top of the tower were indeed great and it was a hot day, so that complimentary drink (whatever it may be) would come in handy.  Unfortunately the complimentary drink was not forthcoming, which was ironic as the salesman had told us we should always aim to “make our money work for us”.

After a dip in the hotel pool we headed to the ‘How you like it’ bar for a traditional Indonesian meal, I opted for the Irish stew.  From here the evening gets a bit hazy.  We popped in a bar I believe was called Guthra for a bit of sport on TV, before a local covers band started playing.  The cocktails began to flow… Unfortunately I remember very little about the rest of the evening, I got split up from Ruby Bill Silks and Pat Rambutan and got lost, walked for miles in the wrong direction before eventually (probably using the tall buildings as a guide) found my way back to the apartment.  As I approached the street our apartment was situated on I heard a person crying out “Excuse me sir!”.  The shouting was coming from a taxi, I walked towards the taxi and leaned towards the open passenger window.  “Blow job sir?”, said the taxi driver.  I’d always preferred Slippery Nipples and very much doubted he had the necessary ingredients of Baileys and Sambuca in his cab.  A combination of this and the nagging feeling he may not have held the required license to sell alcohol, led me to decline his wonderful offer and head back to the apartment to kip, it was after all 6AM.

Cinnamon stick

Today was a write off.

Lebanese cucumber, seeded, finely chopped

Up bright and early to get a taxi to the airport; still traumatised I continued with caution, luckily this taxi wasn’t selling cocktails or sexual favours.  After getting in an argument with the self service check-in machine we proceeded through security.  Ruby Bill Silks headed to the washrooms, so we waited outside.  No need for us to go in, he’d be ok.  Time moved on as it tends to do but Ruby Bill didn’t seem to be exiting the ablutions any time soon.  Thirty minutes we waited outside for him, the gate was getting close to closing, panic was starting to set in.  What should we do?  Miss the flight because he’d fallen in the toilet?  We headed in to survey the washrooms, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen… In danger of missing our flight we sprinted to the gate, we made it without a second to spare.  Who did we see sitting in the departure lounge minding his own business?  Ruby Bill Silks!  He had departed the toilets from the back entrance, given us the slip.  “Where have you two been?” he exclaimed… We felt like giving him what for, right there and then.

We took a smooth one hour flight to the island of Lankawi, which on first inspection looked like a tropical paradise.  It was a small island, the taxi from the airport to the hotel covered most of it, giving us a feel for the lay of the land and of the many scooters buzzing around the streets.  We stayed at Frangipani’s resort, a delightful collection of apartments and huts facing the sea.  We creamed up before strutting out onto the beach like pasty white peacocks.  A small amount of sunbathing ensued before hitting the onsite restaurant.  I enjoyed a ‘Beef me up’ wrap and a couple of Tigers, before watching a storm brew off the coast, “there’s a-strorm a-brewin” I thought to myself, while listening to free form experimental jazz.  So the thunder began, followed by the lightning, getting closer and closer to land, culminating in a storm of rain.  At this point, (and after two hours of free form experimental jazz) we decided to the leave the relatively dry confines of the restaurant and take a stroll in the rain to a local bar, Debbie’s Place.  Unfortunately it was shut.  Unperturbed we ploughed on, only to come across the One Love Reggae Bar, a bar very much in homage to Bob Marley.  Like three little birds we pulled up some stools and sat at the bar.  It was a friendly place and the barmen were keen to dazzle us with card tricks while serving us beers, they were jamming with us.  Ruby Bill had always fancied himself as a bit of a Paul Daniels and it was clear he was getting riled up by by the barmen’s magic skills. Every trick they did, he tried to out do them.  They could see he wasn’t comfortable, he was jealous of their skills and they knew it, they continued to stir it up.  Eventually we told Ruby to “simmer down”, he was redder than red, “don’t rock my boat!” he retorted.  It was time for us all to simmer down, there’s too much trouble in the world without us fighting against each other.  The barmen eased off on the card tricks and it was now that we noticed that there was nobody else in the bar, just us three and the two barmen.  We were all thinking the same thing, “no woman, no cry”.  After spending an hour or so in the bar it became apparent that the sound system in the bar was playing Bob Marley on constant rotation, it was on a loop and our brains were being emersed in Marley’s laid back reggae flavourings.  Sweet.  After a good few hours of Marley the novelty began to wear off, we’d heard his entire back catalogue on a loop, the only thing more annoying was looped free form experimental jazz.  I’d heard enough, I grabbed my rastacap, combed my dreadlocks out of my eyes and exclaimed “get up, stand up!”, it was time for us to leave.  There was an exodus, we headed back to the hotel, hopefully the Marley emmersion therapy had not affected us in anyway.

There was a huge storm during the night which sounded so bad I was convinced I was going to wake up in my bed but with no roof on the apartment.  It didn’t happen, I woke up, peered outside, “the sun is shining” I thought to myself.  I got up, put on my dancing shoes, as today we were heading to Langkawi’s cable car and footbridge (the island’s biggest attraction).  Considering we were on a small island this was an incredibly busy tourist destination.  We queued up with all the screaming kids, negotiated the obligatory “guys, pretend you’re having fun in front of  this artificial background for the photo you’ll never buy”, before getting out to the top station and a walk along the curved footbridge.  Great views of the island from up on the bridge, had a Jurassic Park feel about it.  After taking in the views for a while we headed back down to the main area to find a restaurant.  While eating a tuna sandwich I couldn’t help but notice the very sunburnt boy sitting opposite.  He sounded (and looked) eastern European and had clearly fallen asleep in the sun, bright red all over his face, then he took his sunglasses off…Wow! Impressive bright white sunglasses tan line, probably one of the best sunburns I’d ever seen.  I had to laugh, but only because it’s usually me getting sunburnt in silly places.  I once got sunburnt in Hay-on-Wye, Wales, the sun wasn’t even out.

We took an eight minute walk to the base of the nearest waterfall, during the walk we could sense we were not alone.  The road was flanked by trees on both sides and we could feel our every move being watched.  Before you could say “There’s something out there waiting for us, and it aint no man”, we realised it was it was merely a bunch of monkeys.  They were sitting in the trees staring at us while combing each others hair, or at least that’s what it looked like.  We made our way to the waterfall, unhindered by the monkeys.  The views of the waterfall were great, although slightly ruined by the amount of six packs and muscles on display.  We didn’t want anyone to feel inadequate or body concious, so we covered up.  Which is more than can be said for the two identical Fabios, waxed and chiselled to within an inch of their lives.  We headed back to the resort, tails between our legs, we couldn’t compare to the Fabios.  I dived into the sea.  When I say ‘dived’, I mean I shuffled in to the the sea, only to get knocked over by a wave.  I had misjudged its power.  I pulled myself up, only to get knocked down again by a second wave.  I was flat out on the deck.  My arse and the pockets of my shorts were full of sand.  I crawled to safety, empied the sand out of every orifice and with my tail between my legs I  headed to the safety of the salt water swimming pool.

After cooling down in the pool we hit the bar for a curry and a couple of Tigers.  Sufficiently warmed up, we tried our luck at the Irish bar again (Debbie’s Place), it was open!  However, it was a bit on the quiet side, so we left and instead found a Mexican cafe (?).  A couple more Tigers, but once again it was quiet.  We couldn’t find anymore bars, so returned tails between legs to the One Love Reggae Bar.  Naturally Bob was on the stereo, but this time Ruby Bill Silks refrained from adopting his alter-ego The Great Bellendo, shying away from committing any disasterous card tricks this time.  The evening passed without incident.

Teaspoon of ground turmeric

Today we were flying back to Kuala Lumpur, but not before a quick tuna sandwich by the pool.  Unfortunately it wasn’t that quick as both myself and Ruby Bill ordered the tuna sandwich, which confused the waiter.  Ruby’s tuna sandwich turned up in good time, but mine took an age to arrive.  Nonetheless we ate them and headed to the airport.  We negotiated the mere one hour flight back to Kuala Lumpur and hailed a taxi to take us to our hotel, Leapple Boutique.  The taxi driver gave us more than we bargained for when he pointed out which bar all the local Ladyboys frequent.  We made a mental note not to go to that bar, although I can’t remember its name.  So if I ever go back I could be in trouble.  After throwing our bags in the hotel we headed to Johnny Rockets for dinner, Kuala Lumpur’s premier American diner.  I ordered the Philly Cheese Steak and was surprised to hear that every staff member has to say “Hi” and “Bye” to every customer.  Surely they must get cheesed off having to do that all the time?  However; they took this to a new level whenever a Bruno Mars song came on the stereo,   all staff partaking in synchronised dancing.  This was amusing maybe the first two times, but did start to grate after a while.  We certainly didn’t need to hear Bruno Mars more than once per meal.

We bode farewell to the Johnny Rocket’s dancing waiting staff and headed to our pre-booked trip to the Petronas Towers.  For 84 Ringgit’s we went up the middle section inbetween the towers, marvelling at the ten inch gap allowing the middle section to sway with the towers.  The trip climaxed when we went to the 88th floor of tower 2 for photos, but was overshadowed by Ruby Bill’s actions.  While taking photos he stepped back and trod on an Arabian ladies’ foot… We sucked in all the oxygen in the room, you could cut the tension with a knife.  Tensions were already running high in the middle east, could Ruby’s uncontrolled clumsiness be the straw that broke the camel’s back?  Our thoughts turned to calling recently resigned Middle East Peace Envoy Tony Blair.  Luckily, there were no repercussions, it was touch and go but after some apologies and some strained looks we made it out of the towers, everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief.  We popped in The Dome Restaurant for a quick Asahi, and then back to the relative safety of Leapple Boutique Hotel.  An early night brought a tense, frought, evening to an end, not only that but also our stay in Malaysia, tomorrow we were heading back to Dubai for some unfinished business.