...and all you got was this lousy blog post! Count yourselves lucky.
Where to start? Well firstly, this has been the best World Cup in living memory. To put that into context, I started remembering World Cup's around 1998. On the horizon are some massive semis, the hardest of which is probably Brazil's. Given how far each team has 'cum' though, they'll all be looking at their respective 'drawers' with a big grin etched across their faces.
That's enough rubbish cock innuendos for one day!
I spent two weeks in Ceará, the self-proclaimed 'County Durham of Brazil'. It's nickname concerns the geographical location rather than any regional dialect. To be fair, I understood more of what was being said here than the last time I visited the birthplace of modern English mustard in the North East of England. I even learnt a new phrase, escovar os dentes. No idea why people kept shouting it at me though.
Upon my voyage I was accompanied by two other guys. To protect them from such real dangers as online phishing and celebrity paedophiles, I've altered their names in this post to Nollie & Bobbie. On reflection it's bit of a redundant act, as after this paragraph I don't mention them again.
We spent our days in the capital, Fortaleza, and also found time to head up the coast to both Cumbucu and Jericoacoara. If this were a travel blog I'd be singing the praises of all of these places right now, but it isn't...so I'm not.
Rather than bore you with reams of holiday snaps, I've included a link for you here to browse at your own leisure. The below makes it in though, as through sheer luck we managed to stumble across the one spot on Earth where the sun's light creates an almost mythical path across the ocean.
It's a minor miracle that nothing was lost during the holiday, except for a small slice of dignity and all of our luggage on the way home (both of which are true.) I've also caught the travelling bug, by which I mean the bug to travel and not HIV/Aids, which if I'm being totally frank, I've not been checked for in a while.
I thought I'd sign off this blog post with a game of Spot the Difference, mainly because I've not done so before and I've two similar looking photos. There's no prizes so feel free to ignore. Legally I should point out that one of the faces has been altered, again to protect the individual concerned from nonces:
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Where to start? Well firstly, this has been the best World Cup in living memory. To put that into context, I started remembering World Cup's around 1998. On the horizon are some massive semis, the hardest of which is probably Brazil's. Given how far each team has 'cum' though, they'll all be looking at their respective 'drawers' with a big grin etched across their faces.
That's enough rubbish cock innuendos for one day!
I spent two weeks in Ceará, the self-proclaimed 'County Durham of Brazil'. It's nickname concerns the geographical location rather than any regional dialect. To be fair, I understood more of what was being said here than the last time I visited the birthplace of modern English mustard in the North East of England. I even learnt a new phrase, escovar os dentes. No idea why people kept shouting it at me though.
Upon my voyage I was accompanied by two other guys. To protect them from such real dangers as online phishing and celebrity paedophiles, I've altered their names in this post to Nollie & Bobbie. On reflection it's bit of a redundant act, as after this paragraph I don't mention them again.
We spent our days in the capital, Fortaleza, and also found time to head up the coast to both Cumbucu and Jericoacoara. If this were a travel blog I'd be singing the praises of all of these places right now, but it isn't...so I'm not.
Rather than bore you with reams of holiday snaps, I've included a link for you here to browse at your own leisure. The below makes it in though, as through sheer luck we managed to stumble across the one spot on Earth where the sun's light creates an almost mythical path across the ocean.
Totally tropical
Of course, it wouldn't be a hastily thrown together blog post about Brazil if I didn't mention the ladies and my word, some were definite Wawaweewa's. For those unversed in Kazakh, or unfamiliar with the film Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, the Wawaweewa is:
- Wawaweewa = part time supermodel/full time regular model/Argentinian waitress (delete as applicable)
- Wawawee = you've got the brains, you've even got the looks, but your odour's slightly offputting
- Wawa = potential Wawawee, were it not for the missing limb/overactive bladder/weeping eye
- Wa = wouldn't touch with a barge poll (if I had a barge poll) for fear of infecting the barge poll
Thankfully, everyone seemed to be having a lovely time though.
How did you fair with the ladies I hear you ask (despite the fact I've already pre-written this?) Well, put it this way, the hottest woman I locked lips with turned out to be a man... Anyway, I'd say the whole experience has made me a more laid back and thoughtful person.
'Was it all plain sailing?' asks somebody else, from somewhere. Well, actually, no. I suffered Caipirinha induced nightmares during the trip, such as being kidnapped by a cleverly disguised Harry Enfield & Paul Whitehouse, and losing my job over an affair I had with former kids TV presenter Josie d'Arby. Before and after photos clearly show the toll these episodes had:
I thought I'd sign off this blog post with a game of Spot the Difference, mainly because I've not done so before and I've two similar looking photos. There's no prizes so feel free to ignore. Legally I should point out that one of the faces has been altered, again to protect the individual concerned from nonces:
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