2018-02-03 22.31.21

I just can’t avoid the selfies.

Everyone I give the benefit of the doubt becomes a selfie queen in my presence.

I was promoting a bikey gang last night.

‘Hold that sticker and be quiet.’

I was quiet.

‘And fucking smile.’

I’m sure my face is gracing ‘The Family Biker Club’s’  Facebook page as I speak.

The leader who called me from off the street sat me down and plonked a black coffee on the table.

He was telling me how he liked ’em big.

The pretty girls at the cafe were on the biggish size.

His wife, an effervescent bubble of gigantic proportions said ‘big is beautiful.’

I wanted to give her a hug there and then.

At last I found a group of people who didn’t mind a bit of padding.

‘She big.’

The waitress went red.

The lead biker made sure he offended most of the buxom and cute waitresses before I had finished my coffee.

Then he took a few selfies of me.

‘You are now in my library.’

I’m in his fucking library.

Jailed forever.

I left the gang and said I might return tomorrow.

‘It is now tomorrow,’ said the ‘Fat Borneo Pageant Queen’. She had folds of fat and held her own when her husband declared he liked watching blue movies.

What they didn’t know was that I had been downloading porn all day. I let out a little nervous laugh. Arsenal was playing Man U and a talking head appeared with a blue background.

‘There’s your blue,’ I said. No one laughed.

I’m fond of those waitresses.

They haven’t asked me for a selfie yet.

My teeth are sparkling white. Who knows, that might lure them in.

‘Be careful,’ said another bikey, as I walked home.

I had spent one month in Medan, in Sumatra, I said, with a touch of bravado.

But I was watching myself as I walked the last 500 meters to the main road. Young hoodlums on bikes were hanging out on the side of the road.

Play the dumb tourist, I said to myself.

I pulled out my camera and took a few photos of a street lantern.

‘Selfie mister.’ And thus begun another cycle of fake smiles.

How can you mug a tourist who is interested in the local Chinese lanterns?

It worked.

I made it back to my hotel.

It was well after midnight.

Now where did the fucking night go?

Just go on Facebook and do a face recognition search.

It will show every cafe I went to and the people I spoke with.

A night out in Borneo has never been so much fun, right?

My mission tonight is to get a better photo of Miss Borneo at Cafe 21, who in the tradition of Hooters, has the biggest knockers in West Kalimantan.

Here’s to wishing me luck.


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