It’s a well-known fact that I’m international, being the jet setter that I am. I’m always living it up in such fancy destinations like T’Chad, Jeddah and the Falklands so it was no surprise that I found myself in Dubai for two long glorious weeks of
sun, sea, sand and excitement clubbing, vomiting, recovering and more partying.
Two fabulous friends put me up; Dave and Teddy, you may recognize Dave, he was on the front cover of The Sun when he was put on the sex offenders list for inappropriately molesting a puppet when he visited Fraggle Rock. Teddy on the over hand has stared in such TV programs as Crimewatch, Real Police Chases, Undercover Criminals and When Celebrity Boobs Go Bust; The Truth Behind Implants. Both lovely guys, they met in rehab when they were sectioned for a compulsion for talking about shitting, they soon got released when I made the nurses realize it’s just what cabin crew talk about, that and sex, food and sleeping. I often find it difficult to being myself down to my colleagues’ intellectual level, sometimes I just crave for a real conversation about the latest Sue Townsend novel, and instead I find myself discussing the latest edition to stretchmyhoop.com
Fortunately Teddy let me share his room; it’s no doubt a decision he regretted after I tuned his bedside table into what looked familiar like a cosmetics counter, he politely didn’t say anything even though he no longer had a place to store his hemorrhoid cream. On the first night of my Arabian adventure I was taken to a little bar called Zinc, it was a crew night and full of puffs. It was in there, just as the DJ played Theme from S’Express that I thought I could easily move here.
It was in fact clearly a gay bar, well the gay area was to the left of the bar full of Emirates crew, you could tell by the smell of Gin & Tonic mixed with regret that this wasn’t the straight side. It was there a gorgeous little geek in a Dennis the Menace t-shirt caught my eye. I was giving him all sorts of sexy looks, albeit ones that looked like I was on death row and my name had just been called out, and he seemed to be looking back, that was until I noticed his fella was stood behind me at the bar. It’s such a shame he died on the way home, apparently someone cut the brakes on his camel.
The second night I was taken to a ‘gay’ bar, they do exist over in Dubai; they just call them by different names such as The Sodomizers Den Of Inequity. I did have a lovely time there, I was even chatted up by a very handsome man, I was flattered, it was just when he was feeling my bum I heard Teddy shout ‘Mike, he’s after your pockets.’ It suddenly dawned on me I was as hopeless with men in Dubai as I am in Manchester. They obviously don’t appreciate a witty Northerner with a little more meat on his bones that what is clinically healthy.
Quite possibly the best discovery I made whilst over in the U.A.E is that KFC deliver there. Perfect as a hangover cure and it just so happened I had a hangover every day. Due to his hazeiness I only actually made it to the beach once in my two weeks of being there, returning back to the UK with less of a suntan than a Chilean miner. It was on this beach that I was introduced to a summer trend that will no doubt be on the catwalks of Paris and Milan come this spring; a burka accompanied by a baseball cap.
Whilst I was here I met up with a very good friend for lunch, Lady Di, not of Wales but of Romford. We had some lovely meals down on the promenade, that was until I realized she was trying to sell me as a slave so she could raise some funds to have a plunge pool fitted on her balcony, I actually think I was more offended that she had no offers. They obviously took one look at me and knew I couldn’t lift a Yellow Pages with a rope and pulley, never mind carrying a sheet of metal to the top of the Burj.
Unfortunately my time ran out over in Dubai and despite my pleading Teddy never got a chance to take me up the Khalifa. I’m hoping that on my return to the U.A.E I might have more look with someone else, maybe a new colleague…….