by Guy Lilburne
We were having a good time in Rhodes and, as always, we laughed a lot, sometimes at things that the untrained eye might have missed. On another night we were in a bar people watching and generally taking the piss when two, not so pretty, girls came up to us at the bar and introduced themselves. We exchanged names and they told us that they were sisters.
“Where’s Cinderella?” asked Raz.
“What?”
It went completely over their heads, but me and Raz laughed.
“Actually, we are brothers too” said Raz. “Twins in fact.”
The eight-year age gap between me and Raz must have put some doubt in their minds.
“You’re not twins” said the smarter one of the two.
“We are” I said. “It’s just that Raz is identical and I’m not.”
“Oh right! I see” she said, convinced.
Rhodes Town is a beautiful place, although I didn’t fall in love with the rest of the island. Falaraki, with its bar street and club street, is OK if you are 17 and like watching other 17 year olds being sick down the front of their England football shirts. But it’s not really an area of culture or romance.
The ancient walled town of Rhodes is an area of culture and romance. It’s a great place to sit outside in the main square and watch the people and the world go by. One afternoon Raz and I sat for an hour watching a beautiful 40 something Greek woman cycling around the square. She was going from shop to shop, trying on sunglasses outside the shops, without ever getting off her bike. She was very pretty and very sexy. All the time that she was cycling around, the breeze was blowing up her loose summer dress and flashing her white knickers. She looked sexy and chic. It was like a scene from some low budget Italian movie, but she looked great. It was entertaining and I wish I had taken my camera.
The second week that we were there, four young girls from Birmingham arrived in the apartment next door to us. We had heard them before we saw them. On their first night in the apartment Raz and I had gone out. Raz left me in a bar and went back to the apartment to get some more money. He took ages and when he got back he told me the story.
He had gone back to the apartment and saw the girls for the first time. They were all aged about 18. They were all out on their balcony and getting drunk before they hit the town. Their music was blaring and they called Raz over to have a drink with them. Raz, being the perfect neighbour, went round and shared a few drinks with them. After a while they all started to strip off in front of Raz, to get changed ready to go out. They enjoyed teasing him and went from being fully dressed, to wearing just bra and pants, to being naked and then dressed again. Dressed to kill! Raz had a ringside seat, lucky bastard! He ended up shagging one of them for the next four days, and she wasn’t even fat. In fact she was slim and beautiful.
One night during our second week we were in a bar in bar street and we were watching a blonde girl. She was probably about twenty-two years old and she was very pissed. She was on her own and had an unopened bottle of vodka on the table in front of her. She was swaying and dancing in her seat, but she was too drunk to know where she was or what she was doing. The term ‘What a state!’ came to mind. It was very late. Actually it was very early in the morning. Raz went to the toilet and just then four young Greek lads on two scooters stopped outside the bar. They looked in and saw the blonde girl. They spoke amongst themselves for a moment and then got off their scooter and walked over to the girl. After a few moments talking to her they helped her off her chair and started to escort her out of the bar.
Maybe it’s because I’m a manager, or maybe it’s because I’m a parent, but whatever it was, I didn’t like these lads and I feared for the girl’s safety. I just knew that these little bastards were going to gang rape her on a beach somewhere. She was drunk and helpless and leaving the bar meekly and without protest with these lads. One of them picked up the vodka bottle.
As they walked past me on their way out I said,
“Excuse me, are you alright there?”
The blonde girl smiled a drunken smile and shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t know” she said.
“Do you know these lads?”
She shrugged again, her head wobbling on her neck.
“No. They’re just taking me home.”
The young Greek lands were staring at me menacingly and mumbling in Greek under their breath.
“No. They’re not. Me and my mate will take you home. You’ll be safe with us.”
I grabbed the girl and snatched the vodka bottle. The lads weren’t expecting it. I had taken them by surprise, but almost immediately they started trying to grab the girl back. I couldn’t believe the malicious intent of these evil little bastards. They were like a pack of hyenas. It was obvious that this was something they did on a regular basis. What really shocked me is that they were prepared to fight to grab back their prey. They kept trying to get a better grip on her and pull her back. I was in a tug of war with them. They kicked out at me, and one of them caught me on my shin. They were swearing in Greek. With an open hand I pushed one of them away as hard as I could. He went flying backwards staggering, and unable to keep his balance he fell over, but jumped back up. I was shouting and swearing at them, and they reluctantly backed off, but only as far as the street outside.
Raz is 6’ 4” and built like a brick shit-house. Trust him to decide to take the longest dump in the world while all this is going on and I needed him here. What’s the point of having a great big mate if he is having a shit when you are getting into trouble?
The four Greek lads were joined by another four Greek lads on scooters and the first four were telling the newcomers what had happened. They all stood menacingly outside the bar, glaring over at me. A few people were watching all this, but nobody came to help. The (Greek) bar staff watched it all too and did nothing. These evil little fuckers were going to wait for me outside the bar. They weren’t going to let me rescue the girl. The atmosphere had turned ugly, but still the bar staff and the other people in the bar did nothing. This would never have happened in a bar in England.
Raz came back and I told him what was going on. The evil little bastards outside took one look at Raz and decided that they didn’t like the odds anymore. (8 against 2) They jumped on their scooters and fucked off. I was very relieved. That was a tense time. I dread to think of what would have happened to the girl if we hadn’t have been there that night.
The blonde girl was unaware of what was going on. We finished our drinks and walked her home. It was a bit further than we wanted to walk, but it gave the blonde girl a chance to sober up a bit.
Inside her room was an absolute tip. I looked at the plastic photo album next to her bed. Inside were photos of a beautiful blonde girl.
“Who’s this?” I asked.
“It’s me.”
I was shocked. She was haggard and as rough as fuck now, but in the photos she was young and beautiful. She told us that she was a worker on the island. The last twelve months had certainly taken their toll on her health and looks. I told her that the best thing that she could do would be to go back to England and give her body a chance to recover from the excesses it had suffered during the last year. I felt sorry for her. She was a wreck and I doubted if she would survive this lifestyle much longer.
“I pinched your bum at the airport, when you arrived off the plane and were waiting to get on the bus” she said in a still drunken stupor.
I was shocked. Shocked and surprised that she could remember anything in this state.
“That was you?”
“Yes. You told the old guy behind you to fuck off” she laughed.
We left her on her bed and went back to the apartment. For the rest of the holiday we seemed to keep bumping into her all over the place. She thanked us every time she saw us and we all became friends. I wonder wh
atever happened to her!
I would also like to apologise to the little bald headed man. I’m sorry I told you to fuck off and called you a cunt. It wasn’t tiredness after all, just a misunderstanding. Sorry!
If there is one criticism that I could level at Raz, it’s that he didn’t always have the killer instinct of a 9th Dan master shagger! He has been guilty on many occasions of taking his eye off the target. He could sometimes be too easily distracted by other girls passing by when he was already onto a dead cert. But then again, Raz would be the first to admit he wasn’t always the best at reading body language. Like Raz once said,
“If a girl was sucking my knob, I’d still be trying to work out whether she likes me or not!”
A classic example of missing out on an open goal was in Ibiza. We were doing the round of bars in the West End of San Antonio. In the third bar we went into we got our drinks and, as usual, scanned the room for potential holiday romances. We struck gold straight away. Two attractive girls who were dancing together had noticed us. There was the usual brushing back of the hair with the fingers, plenty of eye contact, whispering to each other, more glances and then the smiles. Raz had clocked it all as well. I nodded to Raz and said,
“It looks like we’re going to go and stand over there mate.”
We sauntered over the way that two middle-aged men do, trying not to look too interested. Trying to look cool and make it look like a pure coincidence that we ended up standing by the two prettiest girls in the bar, but tonight we were in luck. These girls were clearly interested in us as well.
Their bodies turned towards us and, within moments, the four of us were dancing together. Introductions were made amongst a lot of smiles and laughter. There was all the usual arm touching and squeezes as we all shouted into each other’s ears to be heard above the music. They were pretty girls and their perfume smelled great. They were both in their mid-twenties and from Nottingham. My girl was called Sarah, and I fancied the pants off her. There was lots of smiling and laughing, touching and stroking. There was no doubt about it. We had pulled, clicked, scored. We were in there. That’s when Raz did it again. Some girl walked past him and bumped her backside into him as she walked past in a deliberate act. Raz turned and smiled. The girl smiled and Raz started dancing with her. His girl from Nottingham was instantly offended and getting more and more pissed off by the second. If I was closer to Raz I would have kicked him to regain his focus and attention, but alas, I wasn’t. Raz was just being friendly. If someone smiled at him he would always smile back. He didn’t mean it as an affront to anyone, but the girl from Nottingham was offended and Raz was just completely unaware of the situation.
Sarah put her hand on my shoulder and leaned into my ear.
“What’s he doing? Doesn’t he like my friend?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“It’s just Raz. Yes, of course he likes your friend.”
It was too late. Sarah’s friend grabbed Sarah’s arm and dragged her off into the ladies toilet. I grabbed Raz.
“Mate, what are you doing? You’re going to blow this.”
“Why? Where have the girls gone?”
“They are feeling a bit insulted because you turned your back on them to dance with that other girl.”
“I’m just dancing. I didn’t want to appear too eager.”
This really wasn’t the time to worry about appearing too eager and this really wasn’t the time to be discussing it with Raz. The girls came back from the toilets and Sarah pulled at my arm and kissed me on the cheek.
“We are going now. You’re friend has really pissed her off. She doesn’t know what she did wrong.”
“No, don’t go” I pleaded, but I knew the dye had been cast.
“I have to go. Sorry!”
“I can’t believe that the only holiday romance that I’ve ever had is going to come to such a tragic end. Can I see you again?”
She laughed and kissed me again.
“OK. Tomorrow night” she laughed.
We named a bar and arranged to meet outside of it at 8.00 pm the following night. All the time her friend was impatiently pulling at her arm, throwing in the occasional,
“Come on Sarah.”
Raz looked on in amazement and as soon as they left he passed his judgement on the events that had just unfolded.
“They are both fucking crackers mate. Too high maintenance. They’d make your life a misery” he said.
He now clearly felt justified in his actions. I sighed a resigned sigh.
“I wasn’t thinking about marrying her mate. Just spending the night with her.”
The next day around the pool I was thinking about Sarah. She was pretty and had a nice shape. I thought that she was sweet and very feminine. They were on holiday for the same two weeks as us and I was already thinking how delightful it would be to spend the rest of the two weeks with Sarah. She really was quite lovely. I got more excited as the day wore on.
During the evening I showered, shaved, dressed up, looked and felt great and I smelled good. This was going to be a very romantic night. I was an expert in romance. The poor girl wasn’t going to stand a chance against my charm offensive. I had it all planned. A few drinks, a meal in Savannah or Café Mambo or one of the other classy beachside sunset bars. Lots of witty charming conversation. The warm night air of the Mediterranean embracing us. The Iberian stars scattering romance. Their glow bouncing like diamonds on the slumbering Mediterranean Sea. The flickering candles on each table lighting the faces of lovers in love. The sounds of cool, chilled out jazz floating gently amongst the people in the bars and out onto the beach. I had butterflies in my stomach as I waited at the agreed meeting place at the appointed time.
As the minutes ticked away and the time passed, my butterflies all flew away, replaced by disappointment, even sadness. I waited clinging to the hope that something had happened to make her late and that she would turn up at any moment, full of smiles, happy that I had waited for her and full of apologies for being so late.
I tried to imagine conversations between Sarah and her friend. I was hoping that Sarah’s friend had made such a fuss that she had made it impossible for Sarah to come out and meet me. I didn’t want to think that Sarah had just changed her mind, but I was never going to get to know.
The longer I stood there, the more uncomfortable I felt. After twenty minutes of waiting it seemed like everyone who passed by looked at me, knowing that I was in the process of being stood up. But I still had to wait there, just to make sure that I was being stood up.
I waited for an hour and, even then, it was with some reluctance that I walked slowly away, stopping every now and again to look back just in case she was going to turn up late. I had never been stood up before so I wasn’t sure how it should feel, or how long I should have waited. But I knew that I had already waited too long to be cool, and I felt like shit.
I decided to go for something to eat, partly because I was hungry and partly because I didn’t want to turn up back at the hotel so soon and have to explain to everyone how I had been stood up. I went for a Chinese meal and ordered chicken, mushroom and bean sprouts. The meal didn’t taste great and after a few pieces of chicken I realised that it was ‘off’.
I had tasted chicken like this once before in Dublin, just before I spent the rest of the night being sick. I continued with just the mushrooms and bean sprouts, but after a few mouthfuls more I realised that they too tasted as if they had been cooked in dog shit. Still, the prawn crackers and half a pint of lager tasted OK. I sat alone and enjoyed a cigarette as I finished them and watched the people walking along.
I walked back towards Café Mambo, intent on spending a few relaxed hours in the sunset bars. But as I neared, with each step the ‘wind’ trapped in my stomach grew in pressure. The pressure grew to the point of being painful. This
was hurting me now.
Now, I’m a gentleman and not one for farting in public, but this was a case of needs must. I casually checked over my shoulder to make sure that nobody was walking within blast distance behind me. It was all clear, I sucked in a deep breath and held it as I let rip and pushed out a huge fart.
“Holy fuck” I said.
The anticipated big bang was wet, very wet. Instantly, acid diarrhoea filled my Calvin Klein boxers, ran down both legs and started seeping through my jeans. My poor arse was on fire and the smell was sickening. Even worse was the fact that I had lost control of my bodily functions and the wet acid burning farts kept spraying out liquid.
The instant panic had now turned into a full-blown emergency. It was still pouring out of me and turning cold as it ran into my shoes. I needed a toilet and the nearest one must be in the restaurant just down a few steps to the left just in front of me. I squelched down the steps, trumping with every stride. The smell was making my eyes water and I was grimacing as the foul liquid acid aroma burnt into my nostrils.
I didn’t want to look behind me, but I was sure that there must have been a brown plume of smoke coming from my arse. I must have looked like one of the Red Arrows.
The place wasn’t so busy and a man behind the bar greeted me as I walked past in search of the toilet. I nodded, but was scanning the place for the ‘Gents’ and was far too pre-occupied to stand and practice my Spanish or look at the menu.
I headed for the toilet door, just hoping that I wasn’t dripping a trail of shit on the floor. There was no doubt that the stench was filling the air all around me. The toilet door led to a single toilet with a sink, but thank God, there was toilet paper inside it. This was always a bonus in a Spanish toilet.
