Tuesday, January 09, 2007

A madras curry from curry junction

Did I mention I had become a bit of a media whore out here? The other day myself, the Designer and some of the other guys were playing beach cricket on Bondi when a camera crew miraculously appeared from nowhere. They were filming a new series called Bondi Rescue and were keen to film some of the Barmy Army taking a day off from the cricket. This was, basically, because England had lost in four days again and we had spare time on our hands.
The programme is a kind of reality TV about lifeguards (Baywatch without Pammy Anderson) and the Designer, Watford Pete and I were soon confronted by some bloke with a boom microphone. He was keen to know what we thought of the cricket and we managed to tell him with the minimum amount of swearwords), then he asked us to gather some of the lads around to give him a bit of a sing-song on the beach: "We are the army, the barmy army etc..." The fact I had virtually lost my voice made little difference as I conducted the orchestra with a yellow plastic cricket bat.
Later a girl came up and started talking to us. Lo and behold she was the first female lifeguard ever to be employed at Bondi. A lady then appeared with another mic asking us how we would feel to be rescued by her. They were all loaded questions, suggesting we fancied the pants off her, but with the Designer remaining true to his sweetheart and me confessing that I would like to be rescued by the first person who turned up, man or woman, I don't really think she got the answer she wanted. Nor did she explain why Bondi had been a male-only preserve until now. Ask me, it all smacks of tokenism.

Said goodbye to the designer and the Blackburn twins and Liane yesterday, still unsure whether I was going to have a room for the night. Even when I re-entered the hotel at 10pm they were suggesting I would have to pay for the room for the night and claim it back from the Army. I was having none of it.
Seems there has been some mix up between npower, who now seem to be bailing the army out, and the hotel reservations company, mainly because when npower are working it is night time in Aussie, and vice versa.
Luckily there was a guy on reception called Anthony who helped me out and here I am at Sydney airport waiting for my flight back to the UK. On the bus I met some guys who worked for the Beeb in Lincoln. I didn't tell them I was the Beeb's mortal enemy for obvious reasons, though I did inform them I was a journalist and threw Nick "Smashy" Machin's name into the mix on the basis he supports Lincoln City. Well, here's hoping the flight goes well. Signing off from the most Barmy experience of my life. Can't wait to get back to Blighty and show off my "sort of" tan.

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