After several miles of rickety off road we stopped and the driver calmly informed us that we had a flat tyre. Because of the searing heat we all left the vehicle and were milling about in scrub land, I was suddenly hypnotised by some small swirling little dust whirlwinds and moved away to try and take a picture. Eventually I got about 50 meters from the vehicle, and then turned to watch the guy changing the tyre. Suddenly I realised I’ve got bush behind me and had a horrible creeping feeling that something was coming towards me, to either eat me, or mate with my bum, the feeling was unreal, I was too scared to turn around. I walked fast back towards the vehicle with my arsehole chattering like Dot Cotton overloaded with service washes, the fag hanging out of this mouth for the sake of this analogy was a turdlette. I’ll never know if something was coming for me, I don’t want to know, but that feeling was unreal.
We got to our first stop off, the wonderful Salt lick lodge. A bit posh for me, but I wasn’t going to complain. We were told in advance the wonder of this places watering hole, creatures would flock from miles around to drink. I was excited and my child like brain was conjuring up Jurassic park images.
We went to the bar and then eagerly made our way to the watering hole, the Brummies, that had booked on to our trip were starting to irritate me with the drooling accents, hanging on vowels like they were precious objects, “eye wunder ef wye wil see an ippopotimoose?” etc, bless em. We got to the platform around the huge watering hole and I think I was the first to say it, “What the fucking fuck?” there was nothing there, tell a lie, there was a couple of ducks, normal ducks, white ducks, yellow beaks, standard fare. I was gutted, thousands of miles to see a fucking standard average run of the mill plain Jane hum drum duck, I imagined its beak as I squeezed the life out of it and my ginger still un-tanned ex whipped up some plum sauce and we shredded this now roasted cunt into little wraps with cucumber.
In my disgust I turned my back on the watering hole, and started doing what I normally do when I am disappointed, power drinking (well, that or wanking). We all chatted with our backs to the now disappointing watering hole, which was now technically a pond in Wanstead, and drank, and we all talked about our lives. A little while later we heard a twig snap behind us, but thought nothing of it being pre-unimpressed with the fucking duck, then, eventually that feeling came back, that something was behind us, slowly, turning around, we all simultaneously “fucked me’d” – There was about 30 Elephants all round the watering hole, drinking and starting to bathe, cutting through the obvious wonderment of such a positively packed posse of partying pachyderms, I couldn’t help but feel a bit shit that they had managed to creep up on me, the largest beast on land, I felt like a bit of a cunt actually, and felt my balls shrinking as I lost about 25 man points and instantly started to ssslur my ssss’s, like Dale Wintonsss.
Phase 2 of the safari saw us bumping bumbling and blundering up towards the Tanzanian Border, where the guide warned us that groups of Bandits were rife in the area, and were known to strip idiot tourists to their boxer shorts, and leave them in the middle of nowhere with nothing. Great, I thought, as my sad life yet again flashed before me, this would be it; this would be how I died. I imagined that the bandits would shoot us for sure because of the annoying Brummies, their accent and general man-handling of language is offensive the world over, even to those tribes for whom a clicking noise means about 300 different things. Lenny Henry, I rest my case.
We drove up to a checkpoint. It was rickety and looked like something the A-Team van would smash through on a Saturday night while I watched with my nanna. It was a bandit checkpoint I wagered. All of a sudden, men came out of the red dusty mist, armed to fuck with AK47’s, the weapon of choice for Bandits and hostage rapers the world over. Fucking hell I thought, I moved my ginger ex in front of me, holding her almost like an offering, take her a-cups, take them, and do what you will with them, but don’t hurt me, I’m born to do great things, like sit on twitter the night over peddling some shit for soul blog to any poor cunt (you) that reads it.
Our guide, and the first guy to approach started exchanging heated words, and lots of finger wagging, the guy walked off fast towards a hut. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Are we going to get killed?” I said, our guide said no, they were Police. I was relieved, but confused, they were all in 80’s clothes, I saw a global hyper colour t-short, old kappa stuff and was quite amazed, this must be where all our clothes go when we put them in the recycling? – The crown cleared suddenly and the ‘big boss’ came out, and strode towards the van with intent and purpose. I looked at him, and well, I just snorted with laughter, which started to become a proper chubby chuckle fest. He was wearing, in about 35 degrees C, the red leather jacket from the Michael Jackson “Thriller” video, it was hilarious, the arms were rolled up too. “Cunt”, I thought, I bet they think you are well cool with that. I was careful to not vocalise my thoughts, he did have an AK and we was in the middle of nowhere. More finger pointing and eventually we were assigned an ‘escort’ to take us the rest of the way to Amboseli national park.
The guy, who was about 18, sat in the front of the Toyota, the AK47 was between his legs and the barrel was resting pretty much under his chin and his hands were around the trigger area, the van was bouncing up and down like a porno, I watched the back of his head open jawed, waiting for a 7.62mm bullet to come tearing and spinning out the top, followed by a suction of grey brain matter and ribena coloured brain blood and the crackle of brain fragments. Thankfully this didn’t happen.
We arrived at Amboseli and after some rest we went to the bar, a huge guy was serving drinks, and I got stuck in to the Tusker, or whatever the local lager was (It’s a tradition with me to drink the local brew, even if it is wizards piss). Upstairs, in the dining area, there was lots of banging and crashing. I asked the barman what was going in, he said “monkey” – Cunt, I thought, upstairs, smashing plates up, you’ve not even evolved yet, holding my palm out to the barman (who was about twice my size) and as I’d had a couple of pints I said, “I’ll deal with this” – I strode up the stairs to the dining platform and this monkey was there, smaller than a chimp, about the size of a baboon with a growth defect, and was sliding plates off tables and just generally running amok. “Cunt” I reaffirmed and edged towards it, I didn’t have a clue what I would do if I got to it, and I just assumed it would fuck off when I got close? I edged in and this fucking arse scratching tree residing fucker just carried on its mini rage. “OY” I shouted, it turned around and looked at me blankly, “Yeah you, little fucker” I took a couple of steps towards it; it was frozen staring at me curiously. I thought about what to do next, I could punt it, but that would just be greeted with distain downstairs, people had travelled to see little fuckers like this. I decided to stomp really hard and pretend I was rushing the beast, a concoction of sound and movement would scare any creature. I raised my mighty leg and stomped down hard, moving forward and spreading my arms and shouting “ahhhhhh” at the tiny king konglette.
As I did, it rushed forward and sprang at me arms and legs spread, we had rushed each other at pretty much the same time. I’m not a lover, but I’m not a fighter either, and the film Outbreak with Dustin Hoffman had not been out long, and, I’m ashamed to say, shat myself (saw my dull life flash before me again) and turned and did a 100m sprint style run down the stairs. The barman, on hearing the commotion, was already throwing ice cubes at the monkey and it withdrew screeching. I left the bar and went back to the lodge with no explanation to my ginger ex for my cowardice. I’d have to suck it up.
We sat in the room and I drank some of my duty free gin and got merry, returning at about 9pm to the bar. As I walked in, I saw the huge barman talking to someone else, his frantic arm movements and impression of an effeminate scream could only mean one thing, the cunt was talking about my monkey mistakes earlier, in mid tale he saw me and bowed his head. I went to the bar and said with honestly, that he was right to ridicule, I was a nutless fuck.
A few drinks later and people gathered outside to see something amazing, not a lion, not a cheetah, a Jaguar, the shyest of the big cats. A large slab of meat was hung over a dead tree near the bar and people waited, and waited, and fucking waited. I’m half cut, so I have no patience at this point and am getting restless, plus a fact, now I’ve had a good drink, I want to make up for my monkey malfunction earlier and either have a shoving match with someone, or hump my poor ginger ex.
About 45 minutes past, fuck all, no Jaguar. Suddenly a muted joint show of amazement, like as silent gasp, a claw appeared from the scrub, a Jaguar paw; everyone readied their cameras, awaiting the appearance of this shy beast. A whole leg now protruded from the bush, over an hour had past and its meal was right there, no killing, just turn up and eat. A high tech camera made a bit of a noise that was too much for the Jaguars liking and it retreated back into the shrub like the French. I was fucking furious, over an hour I had waited for this feline fuck.
What seemed like ages past and my relay runs to the bar for top ups were more than taking their toll, I had lost interest in this beast, and my ginger ex, who had been standing with her camera ready for more than an hour.
The claw and leg had slowly reappeared, and people were even breathing silently. Eventually a head, then half a torso stuck out of the bush, this panicky cunt was edging out at a speed that was just too frustrating for me in my drunken nasal breathing state and I couldn’t keep it in anymore. BOOOOOOOORING, I roared out like a young Oliver Reed. Needless to say the beast disappeared like a bad erection.
The crowd turned to me and simultaneously tutted, sighed, huffed, and be-cunted me, I merely stood and rocked back and forth breathing heavily out of my nose like a flameless dragon, feeling justified in my statement. My ginger now soon to be ex, turned to me and said, “You know what, you are a fucking cunt” – I huffed off to the bar and sat like a bad Bogart movie with my muscle bound piss taking barman from earlier drinking expensive spirits. Time passed and eventually I went back outside, now steaming, to see this Jaguar eating, and practically posing for pictures. Attention seeking cunt. I wanted to kill it and wear its pelt home as pants. I didn’t have sex that night, and rightfully not, I was a nutless turd.
The safari eventually got worse. Lions are child minders compared to our river close encounter with a hippo, now these cunts, as cute as they look, will get you, moon walk up and down your body and fashion a cheese grater out of your vehicle and fuck you up so your parents or family will never recognise you, you will be buried in an A4 envelope if these flicky eared fucks get you.
The safari came to an end, it was amazing, but tiring, a bit humiliating, but overall, worthwhile. The argument I had in the middle of it with my ex (ginger) was a killer, I’d accused her of acting “posh” after a collection of words spoken with like 5 syllables, and told her to “talk normal” I never knew how to phrase it to her, but eventually it just came out, “Why are you being such a fucking snob” – She just cried, and I felt like an even bigger cunt, I was the Godzilla of cunts, no, King Kunt, up the top of a building, alone.
We arrived back at our Beach Hotel in Mombassa, knackered, but determined to get on the beach without being harassed to fuck by looky looky men and drug dealing Police bribery inducing deviants and the general becuntary that ruins a holiday to the overly polite brit.
Fuck sake, I’ll have to run this into a part 3, some bad stuff happens in the hotel, I mistake a spider for a decorative lantern and nearly get paralysed, and the Granny gang who almost fuck the local lads to death incident happens, and the flight home where I almost hijack an Kenyan Air Airbus.
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