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THE VISA RUN TO BURMA

As some of you may be aware,I'm a relatively well travelled bloke...however,over the last couple of days I've been forced to do a wee border bounce to Burma in order to renew my visa for Thailand,where I currently reside...

Having been picked up from my house at an ungodly hour of the morning,I was transported to the local pier in order to make a swift trip to the mainland (I'm on an island...again)

The boat is known as a Lomprayah,and is quite sexy,with soft chairs,television,coffee and very friendly and professional staff...they don't sell booze,but being from the toon I was savvy enough to get a carry out and two packets of fags (I'm no' daft)

Now,I quite like boats and I don't get seasick or anything,so I thought nothing of it when the sea started to get a bit rough...frankly I was more concerned about spilling my beer down the extremely attractive shirt that I'd bought specifically for the occasion...

Not the case for some other passengers...

I should have been forewarned somewhat when I spotted the aforementioned friendly and professional staff digging out large numbers of small red plastic bags...I thought perhaps they were making up lucky bags for friendly and half ****ed customers like myself,but it was not to be so...

Well,it didn't take long,Pars fans...

As I pelted down my fourteenth can of Singha,I was gently accompanied by the dulcet sounds of quite spectacular projectile vomiting emenating from all sides...looking askance,I observed some poor Japanese woman filling up several bags and adopting a skin pallour that would make Gordan Strachan look like Sidney Poitier...it wasn't very funny, to be honest (well,it was actually),so I swiftly removed myself and my remaining 3427 beers to the rear of the boat,where I boozed,chain smoked and merrily entertained myself to the sound of my jolly spewing travelling companions,and thinking to myself how much it resembled a kind of seafaring version of Chevy's in 1984...

 

BURMA

 

Five minutes...that's how long it took me to jam my fkn ankle between the boat and the jetty...

"AAAARGGGHHH!!",I whispered...

"Oh Jings!" said the boatman,or something like that...

Bleeding profusely,I hobbled,squirting gently,to the visa shop,where I was met by several large Burmese gentlemen in military uniform...they didn't look too chuffed,to be honest,and who could blame them?

Thinking quickly,I came up with the first dippit excuse I could provide...(I swear this is true)

"It's OK!",I said

"I'm from Baldridgeburn!!"

The look of wisdom and experience that came over their faces was clearly born from experience,and with smiles and handshakes all round,I got my visa and swiftly departed the country...

 

Anyhoo,I'm back in Thailand now,where I'm currently living on paracetamol,rum,lager and the excellent local pot noodles...

It's also ****ing down,which just exacerbates the situation...

Why can't I just live a normal life,Pars fans?

Why...?

 

 

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Broomhead flats for 18 years with AWP (even though the lying ****e said he's from Baldrigeburn), Dundee for university and a few years of working,  London, back to the toon, California and then Colorado for the last 14 years. Not a single one of my bairns born in Scotland much to my dear departed mum's chagrin. 

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  • 1 month later...

Not a single one of my bairns born in Scotland much to my dear departed mum's chagrin. 

It could be worse, you could be like the rest of us and have to accept our Bairns passports saying "Birthplace: Kirkcaldy"...

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  • 4 months later...

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