101 Challenges:

Location: KL

Whilst in KL we were meant to complete our “Ass To The Wind” Challenge – you know, the one where we’re meant to throw ourselves out of a plane with nothing but a piece of linen to stop us crashing in to the fast approaching ground.

Everything was pre-arranged (sort of). We had, through the telly people, contacted a local skydiving company who were up for helping us complete this stupidly dangerous (although top-notch safety was assured) Challenge.

But… 3 days before the day of reckoning we phoned up and spoke to Jingagings (all names have been changed for a) legal reasons b) to hide the identities of the incompetent fools who ruined one of our Challenges and c) to prevent us getting our heads kicked in.

Here’s the twin towers at night (thought we’d add a picture here for the hell of it) and one of Frank with them during the day (why not?)

It turns out that the useless buggers that we were to trust our lives with had no clue who we were, what we wanted, when we wanted what they never knew about and that what they never knew we wanted couldn’t be arranged on the day they never knew about but instead, a week later – when we’d be in Borneo.

Lindsay is absolutely elated – so much so that he’s just back after a 15 minute celebratory naked dance throughout the hotel corridor. Lee’s gutted – he wanted this adrenalin so much. Oh well, as ze Germans would say – ShiBe Passiert (or however you spell it).

So the Challenge has been rescheduled – by us. We’re going to try and complete this one in Japan now. Ideally over the skies of Tokyo. So God, put all those prayers Lindsay sent you over the past few days and keep them as an i.o.u or something for July. Cheers mate.

All was not lost though. The “organiser” (that term is soooo loosely used it’s almost comical to write it) felt a bit guilty about her incompetence to arrange a piss up in a brewery and so, invited the two of us to a late night party at her office. Lee declined, opting to spend the evening more productively by writing some journals, arranging picture entries and downloading porn (only joking Mum, he never wrote the journal). Lindsay on the other hand though mmmmmm – wouldn’t mind seeing her linen and putting his life in her hands!

You see, it turns out that via a few text messages, emails and phone calls, Jingagings is a model and highly placed on the Malaysian pedestal as the countries “Best Dressed Woman”. Yummy. Leaving Lee and dashing in to the first taxi to pass, Lindsay headed off, wide-eyed and horny as hell to his awaiting Malaysian version of Japanese Rachel?

After stopping at a 7-11 convenience store for some sexual condiments and mouth fresheners, Lindsay hopped out of the taxi and bounced his way to the office building. Skipping merrily to the elevator shaft (we laughed there – note to selves, we really need to grow up) and pressing the button to happiness, he joyfully boogied to his own sex theme tune which was blaring in his head.

Ding. The lift doors opened and after six short steps he met the model Jingagings. And this… this is where everything fell apart.

Jingagings failed to mention the simple and very important fact that she was voted “Best Dressed Woman” when she was in her 20’s – back in 1954. Don’t get us wrong – she’s a very stunning woman – in the eyes of a 70 year old sex starved man.

A double-cheek-French-style-kiss greeting was made and after wiping his lips, Lindsay was introduced to Jingagings friends. And no, they weren’t fellow models or new recruits there to learn from a maestro. They were a mixture of men and women (who were married to the men so this element further prevented Lindsay’s chances of a night of pleasure) who averaged an age of 51.

A painfully polite session of conversation ensued which afterwards (about 32 minutes) turned to the topic of God, Christianity and how Lindsay was surely going to hell. Bugger.

How can one person be so, so, so, so, so (and one other) so unlucky in sex? It’s not as if he’s that ugly and even with the bulk of his mass, he can make women laugh (sometimes with him) – women love that don’t they?

So, instead of getting sexual gratification, Lindsay came away (in the form of very rudely saying he was going to the toilet and instead, bolting for the lift and panickly hailing the first cab he saw) with religious information. There’s a world of difference in practicing the art of conception (with contraception) than being preached about the immaculate conception – as you can see by the huge disappointment in his face here:



So, yet again, Lindsay’s efforts to re-lose his forever growing virginity have failed. It’s sad. It’s very, very sad. Never can you ever say that you’ve been to a crap party after reading this!