Let’s talk about trekking (you pompous arseholes)

The only thing that makes me want to start haphazardly shooting hostages more than a dick-bag talking about trekking whilst smoking his imaginary pipe is a whole herd of the fuckers in a hostel common room rubbing each other down in a thick lather of snoot-laden, toffee-nosed, pious-pious cream. Yes, trekking is nice and a bit of fun but THAT’S IT. I don’t give a Jatz Cracker if you have decided to pad out 12 months latin holidaying only walking up and down hills in your million dollar wanker clothes that say — Rob Me Right Now and Yes, I’m A Gringo And That Is A Money Belt You Can See Hanging Out My Shirt. These retards can’t even order a coffee in Spanish. Seriously. How they even get from one trekking destination to another is a mystery to me (they’d probably try to tell you they trekked between them). Hey, did you know my sleeping bag is graded for minus 5 degrees and recites nursery rhymes? That’s not cold man, I come from northern Europe where it’s REALLY cold, and I trek all the time and I think… (insert wank here). What kind of world do we live in where they can freely assail me with waves of canonised monkey shit but if I was to stab them in the thigh to shut them up I’d get the restraining order?

How about I trek your face into oblivion you pretentious fart sniffing show ponies? Would you like that? That’s one story I’d happily be forced to overhear hand balled around a trash-talking circle of obscene trekking smugness. And they aren’t even listening to each other. You can see it in their twitching faces as they try not to turtle neck in anticipation waiting for a breathing pause to insert their own particular flavour of bullshit that won’t be heard.

If you are going to talk about your boring as fuck trekking adventures then tell me something interesting like how many days you got Dehydrated Food Derived Constipation, how you threw rocks at other peoples tents at night to stop them snoring like drunk beavers with adenoid problems or how you baited the outside of other peoples tents with mixed nuts to draw the mice away from yours (classic move). If you’ve got nothing then make it up. Please.

That being said, my next entry will contain trekking stories. But not these Vomit In The Mouth Tales of Woe, but ones that will make you Shit Your Pants In Wonder at how awesome I am at trekking without even trying, let alone caring. Stay tuned amigos.