It'll cost yer

It's OK, Adrian's medication is kicking in now and he has opened up Pisspad for me to create this blog (note from Ady should read PSPad - wife is pisspad, due to it being EvenToad¹)

After very nearly 2 years we think the staff have accepted us. Nengah has given us pet names. I am now Ni Luh along with 50% of the female population and Adrian is Wayan right down to the stinky wetsuit.

We have also added a few words of Bahasa Balinese to our smattering of Indonesian. It's the usual start to any language learning. We can say "How are You?", "I'm fine", "That's a nice arse/big tits/big knob?" I've tried Google translate for balls but all I get are recipes.

Dear Holga, does Sula have a sister? Nengah swears her doppelgänger was sitting in our bar only last week, right down to the facial mannerisms - but without the skin-tight leather catsuit.

I know we should get out more but we don't and instead the world and his wife come to us. Our only references are the dim memory of former life in the civilised world - with TV & Radio

If anyone out there wants some material for the next series of the Fast Show or the like, we've got it all here. (note from the editor again, some names have been changed to protect the identities of the innocent but if the real McCoys are listening we hope you will forgive us)

Welcome Tim nice-but-dim & Lucy darlings; ex-pat brits living in Hong Kong but Oh My. She would walk to the end of the earth for him and he would protect her from hell's fire but how on earth they have managed to get through life so far is beyond us. "Lucy darling come here you'd love this". "Oh yes, yes (intensely)) it's lovely" or for exactly the same thing "Ooh Lucy darling don't go there you'll be scared "Oh gosh yes that's scary" but the scariest thing of all is they probably run a multi national and there is another little Tim on the way...

Our day to day work requires us to deal with our potential guests through a series of emails until their eventual arrival. We have a saying "5 strikes and you're out" implying if it takes more that 5 exchanges to secure a booking for a 2 night stay and a day's diving there is something wrong with you and we'll suddenly become full & suggest some other nice place for you to stay.

But just sometime we get brave or curious...

Sally Creek and her lovely friends. Far too long since her first stay in Bali and the pit-pat of emails was not the usual idiotic request for me to be a travel agent, more "what can we bring you from blighty that will make your life better?" - cheers to Mr Gordon!! And the curiosity - she created and runs an organic lubricant company...

Chan; in spite of his seriously Asian name lives in Lancashire. Mmm I think, isn't that where cheese comes from? "Dear Chan, Yes, we have reserved you a room and put your name on the diving calendar. You will receive an invoice through PayPal bring cheese to secure the booking" And bless him he did - not exactly Lancashire but a B.O.G.O.F. deal from Tescos with Branston Pickle :)

Mrs Penguin brought us books and pile of Indian spices which are mixing well with the perfected yoghurt recipe. (Note to Peter for Jane, I've found the secret is to strain it).

The stream of guests is endless and we will be sure to share the highlights as they unfold.

¹That's another story...

Armageddon

Sula rammed a new clip of armour-piercing shells into her Glock and slid a fresh round into the chamber before the ejected magazine hit the floor. The tinkle of hundreds of brass shell casings echoed away into silence. She stretched the skintight leather catsuit, slick with her own blood, over the powerful Honda and fired it up. Crunching over the spent cartridges, she snaked out of the hangar doors leaving a black smoking trail of rubber and powered into the daylight towards the launch site.

The Apache's mini-guns were locked into Holger's infra-red signature as he planted the last of the C4 charges on the rocket and set the timer for 'remote'. The co-pilot's finger hovered over the fire button waiting for a clear shot so as not to hit the thousands of gallons of LOX. Meanwhile 4 black clad ninjas abseiled down from the chopper onto the gantry and were closing in. Holger unslung the anti-aircraft launcher from his back and aimed at the Apache. The pilot snatched the collective and pulled away but it was too late. The chopper exploded. The shockwave hit Holger like a charging bull and tipped him over the scaffolding into oblivion. Still reeling from the blast it took him a second to realise he was freefalling and yanked the ripcord. The canopy opened immediately but wasn't much larger than a tablecloth - he was going to hit hard. The crumpled body of the helicopter sailed past him and splintered as it smashed into the ground. The rotor blades followed, they were much closer to Holger and the still spinning blades snagged the 'chute and catapulted him sideways out across the marsh towards the black forest.

Sula raced towards him wringing the nuts off the Honda, changing gear only when she felt the rev-limiter kick in. She nearly overshot the point where Holger went down and braked so hard the rear wheel lifted. Scanning the tree-line she saw the ragged canopy and her eyes followed the ropes down to his lifeless body suspended just above the ground. She leapt off the bike and sprinted across the soggy ground to the tree. A quick thump into Holger's chest released the harness and he slumped to the ground, she felt for a pulse, alive but unconscious. Her fingers reached beneath his jacket and removed the small metal box from his utility belt. Without turning she pressed the button, the sky lit up, a wave of burning hot air singed her blonde hair and Holger opened his eyes.

Shuttlecocks

I am composing the next blog but I have to get this off my chest NOW!
Dear NASA. Do you seriously expect us (the general public) to believe that you have to delay the launch of the space shuttle due to bad weather?  This thing has been designed and built by the best scientists and engineers on the planet to withstand the incredible extremes of temperature, pressure and turbulence required for re-entry and you're telling me that you daren't launch because there's a few clouds in the sky! Come on,  that's like British Rail saying there's the wrong kind of leaves on the line, and no-one believes that.
So if it's OK to subject thousands of fare paying airline passengers to "fasten your seatbelts" in a bit of lightning but not astronouts? Jeez, can you imagine being told "We're going to send you into space in a craft that can't cope with a bit of a light breeze, now just sign here".  I think not, Watson.