The Australian Hot Lunch

Time is not a healer. We can forgive sexual discrepancies but we most certainly can not forget.  The main reason for this is because we have a blog page to viciously remind us! Please find below a photographic log of our conquests:

This is Chris engaging a young Canadian girl:

What's this now? It seems to be Martin with the same lady. She is what they call in Australia, a bit 'slutty':

Here's Thomas getting in on the action. You will notice that she has instructed him to keep his 'grubby little mitts' to himself:

Now it's time to get serious. And there is nothing more serious than the physical act of love. This particular horizontal genitals connection was found to be 'most agreeable' by Simon. Incidentally, this is Lisa, who has been previously mentioned in other posts. Have a look at the smarmy little smile plastered across Si's pervy little face:

This photo is one for the female blog readers out there. This is what shall become forever known as the 'triumvate of totty':

That's all for now, folks. But fear not, for we shall be bringing you part 2 of this peepshow epic very very soon.. 

When he gets onto the dancefloor this is the kind of thing that Chris is capable of..

Most of the people reading this blog will know Martin Charles Howarth. For those of you that don’t, please read his biography at the very bottom of the blog. Almost everything stated in this biography is completely true and will allow you to fully appreciate the following blog entry.

Whilst travelling you tend to meet lots of new people. And this is all well and good, especially if you’re affable and genial people such as us. We pride ourselves on being approachable and friendly to all that we meet, so we do. It just gets a bit much for us sometimes. This is because every single time, without fail, the first three questions that are said to new people are always; ‘where have you been?’, ‘where are you going?’ and ‘where are you from?’. It's like this standard travelling greeting. This robotic greeting that kept spurging forth from our unwitting gobs as much as it did from theirs. Imagine having the same conversation ten times a day every day for two months solid. Irksome, to say the least. We much prefer talking about some of our favourite things such as Auto-Erotic asphyxiation. For the more seasoned breathless tosser, you may know it as asphyxiophilia, autoerotic asphyxia, scarfing, kotzwarraism, or breath control play. It’s just something that we dig. Our vibe, if you will. When we first got to Cairns, Martin stuck up a picture of naked woman called ‘Athena’ on the door of our dorm, she was a pretty young lady and didn’t wear any pants, always a bonus. That’s not really got anything to do with whacking one off whilst strangling yourself - it’s just nice to share.

 Anyway, what we’re trying to get around to is that, apart from his hero being Stephen Milligan (The MP who killed himself whilst stranglewanking™), Martin has many loves in his life. Since spending day and night with him for 5 months, we have learnt many of them. Here is a list featuring just a few of our favourites:

1. Tucking his tight pink T-shirt into his jeans.

2. Drinking milk so that he has a ‘milk-tash’.

3. Creating awkward moments with people he doesn’t know very well by leaving long silences in conversation and grinning at them.

4. Pooing with the door open and Making sure Tom is aware of exactly what is occuring.

5. Touching himself when he wakes up then proudly showing everyone the resulting erection.

6. Telling everyone that he doesn’t get hangovers then sleeping for 10 hours of the following day with bloodshot eyes and breath that would embarass a crackhead. 

7. Informing everyone, “I’m a fighter, me”, when drunk.

8. Honestly believing Johan Elmander is worth £11,000,000.

9. Wrapping his towel around himself in a ludicrous robe-like fashion so that it makes him look 'Arabic'.

10. Trying to figure out how he can make the hair on his shaved head the exact same length as his beard and eyebrows.

11. Referring to himself in the third person as ‘Martin Choppa Howarth’, when ordering soft drinks from restaurants. I.e. "Martin Choppa Howarth would like a Slimline Tonic, please".

12. Stealthily using Tom’s beard clippers for his pubic hairs then leaving the pubes on the sink in a brazen mockery of Tom's ability to do anything about it.

13. The Lighthouse Family.

14. Putting the small grey rubbings from pencil erasers in his hair to make himself look 'distinguished'.

Oh look, here's the little blighter now..

Are you all tucked in and ready for bed? Yes? Good, now I can begin...

...There was once a time in which life was guided not by those festering turds we call laws and governance but instead by the simple act of love. Not to say that the world did not have its problems; famine still ravished much of the Aflican continent and I’m fairly sure that much of the Brippish Isles was being subjected to regular bouts Birdie Flu: It should be noted that after swift intervention from Toby Snare’s cabinet, infection was limited to those with even shoe sizes. Records also talk of a terrible observation building in which the society placed a dozen of it’s most deranged imbeciles and mentally unstable sycophants for a period of intensive scrutiny every year. They were slowly picked off by the discerning public as the least socially retarded of the group was awarded a grant of around 100,000 Stirling Moss Pounds, with which they could rebuild their sham of a life. I think it was originally a home for burnt out or incapacitated and emotionally troubled rappers. Possibly set up in the 90’s, it was called Biggy’s Brother – he loved to cry did Roger Smalls.

Anyway, love was forgotten for many, many years and it was only through the valiant actions of one noble northerner that mankind rediscovered this most powerful of emotions. Now, in order to protect the identity of those in the story we shall change their names. We are considerate people and we’re aware that this blog goes out to tens of people, so it’s best to just preserve the sanctity of their privacy. So, the man in question, let’s call him Hartin Mowarth, was in love with a girl called Carah Sookson. Their’s was a passionate affair, erupting from their lives like a sticky sex volcano. Hartin himself told the rest of the Hotlunchers that she was ‘the one’ and that he loved her calves, they were well sexy, apparently. Their love stopped traffic, dried up rivers, broke dams and even managed to permeate Simon’s iron clad heart – we heard stories of a solitary tear trickling down his beardy face when he saw a picture of them together. And so on and so on. They were happy, blah blah blah. You can fill in the gaps people, I’m on a tight schedule here. Basically I’m trying to get to one most pertinent point here. What I’m about to reveal may rock you to your very core. If you have a drink in your hand then I advise you put it down, for this is a biggie…

Hartin Mowarth became Mingefied.

You get me? I expect you can all appreciate the gravity of the situation now. But for those of you who aren’t familiar with this term (I know, mental that some people still don’t know in this day and age), it means that Carah Sookson has used her minge to turn Hartin into a massive minge himself. Not really too much of a problem normally, but on this one fateful day in August he almost ruined one innocent man’s life. That man was Lhris Cight. Are you ready to find out how? Course you are. This is what the whole story has been leading up to. So here it is..

He told Lhris that the film Enchanted was good. So Lhris watched this film and guess what, it was f*cking gash.

A few years ago I read a quote by Ingrid Bergman which encapsulated the majesty of film, for me. This quote read something along these lines;

‘No form of art goes beyond ordinary consciousness as film does, straight to our emotions, deep into the twilight of the soul.’

The only thing is I’ve never really seen a film that has managed to truly live up to this echoing statement…until now. And I have one man to thank for opening my eyes – Simon. I mean I thought I had seen a fair few decent films in my time. Seen a few of those Arthouse movies, a couple of foreign films and even one once that didn’t have neither Bruce Willis nor Ben Stiller in it. But they’ve all been well shit, mate. I have found the Holy Grail of moving pictures and I shall present it’s finest moment in it’s full glory to all you culture vulture thespians out there. Ready? Okay, here we go….

‘Nigger, you at least 30.’

Oh yes, that’s right, I’m talking about Bad Boys 2. I haven’t seen the whole film but I have very high hopes. If it’s anywhere near as good as the film Martin Lawrence did where he dressed up as a big fat black woman and terrorised Richard and Judy then it must be pretty damn good. I didn’t like that documentary where he made Jacko look like a paedo though, I reckon he just likes toys an’ that. Anyway, the reason that I tell you this is because Simon watches this one scene from Bad Boys 2 where the two ghetto talking policeman exchange street talk in front of a young man hoping to date his daughter. After every night out Simon watches this clip with his earphones in. He sure is a stickler for routine, our Simon. He will return home, smoke 4-5 cigarettes outside, put in his earphones and load up Youtube to watch his favourite scene over and over and over. The only thing he likes more than this is Bacon and Chicken baguettes for his lunch.

This is a list of other things that regularly occur in Simon’s life

1. The screws become loose on his sunglasses – this only happens to Simon because of his abnormally ordinary shaped head. Sunglasses manufacturers just don’t expect, you see.
2. Simon buys tight pants that have bright colours on for large sums of money (we witnessed the purchase of one $40 pair of Y-Fronts), then loses them shortly afterward.
3. He drives around in his BMW Z4 Convertible Sports car and shouts quotes from popular television chef Gordon Ramsay. His favourite time of the day is during rush hour, as he can sit in traffic and shout, ‘Do you always two time people Edwina? First you're shagging a Prime Minister, and now you're shagging me up the arse from behind’ at the person in front of him. He also likes to use his favourite Ramsayism in places such as the post office, instead of thanking people for things (for example a stamp) he simply responds with ‘Now, f*ck off’ and points at the door.
4. Simon begs anyone who will listen to go to World bar with him. The boy just loves the place, you know?
5. Simon refuses Chris’s persistent requests to shave of all his beard and leave just a ‘paedo tash’.
6. Simon ignores girls and then they tell the other people that he’s pretty. This has lead to large scale feelings of regret throughout the others that they didn’t make the most of this situation. It would have been bare funny to put on a mock parrot voice and say ‘who’s a pretty boy?’. Imagine how much sex we could’ve got off the back of that wicked joke. Unbelievable.
7. He wakes up the rest of the Hotlunchers to a cacophony of phlegm hocking as he takes a shower. It’s a shame that he doesn’t keep it, because we tricked Tom into thinking that rubbing snot into your balls was a great way of moisturising them. We’re fairly sure he fell for it.
8. He talks about how much he loves the Thorpedo and how they would definitely be ‘bezzie mates’ if they met.
9. Becomes less and less concerned with seeing ‘cultural shit’ and gets more and more excited about returning home to England , so that he can drink Lucozade Sport.
10. Trims his pubes with Tom’s shaver then denies all knowledge. Tom regularly has a small fit when he gets pubes in his beard after trimming it. In Simon’s defence, I don’t think he was the only guilty party – don’t tell Tom though, he might get a bit annoyed. We’ve kept blaming it on the old cleaner woman and I think he’s falling for it.

Also, Martin like to poo with the door open. Tom hates it when he does this.

Happy Birthday Chrissy,
Chrissy it's your birthday!

Let's all wish Christopher Light a happy 22nd birthday. WELL IT"S A BIT FUCKING LATE NOW! HIS BIRTHDAY WAS ON 12TH MAY! Ah well, who goes a shit, I bet he didn't buy you a present for his last Birthday, tight bastard. Luckily, I think Jebus (Bit like Jesus but he's black and wears a correctional shoe as one leg is shorter than the other. I think it's the left leg, but don't hold me to that) knows that Chris didn't buy enough presents for other people this year. So, what did Jebus do? Well he punished him, that's what he did. The town; Byron Bay. The Hostel; The Arts Factory. The room-mates; Hot German Girls and a couple of their superfluous guy friends. At this juncture, I should also point out that in the room next to us was Lisa and Natalie (the one Simon was sticking it to and her mate with the left booby). Remember them? Course you do. Well, up they popped again. Like a bad bloody smell they were (If you happen to be reading, Natalie and Lisa, I should point out that you did not actually smell, much. More to do with the lingering around us, but can't blame you really). I digress, Much goon was drunk. Chris was picked on in all the drinking games, as was to be expected. This led to Chris getting slightly excitable. He spent much of his birthday night running around Cheeky Monkey's (The club/bar that every backpacker went to) with the speed of that runner woman who got done for drugs (Christina Oglaourar, or something like that) and the drunkard stylings only seen on the Christmas specials of ''Booze Britain'. For anyone who hasn't experienced one of these backpackers bars, it should be noted that every drunk middle-class-18-year-old-skins-wannabe-traveller-girl dances on the wooden tables that are around. Now, Chris decided that he should definitely get involved with some of this action. So he knelt down, pulled up his socks, retied his shoes, rolled up his sleeves, tightened his belt, done some warm up stretches and took about 10 paces back for his run up. Head down and breathing synchronised, Chris saw his target; a table by the bar, and focused his mind upon achieving his goal. He later described how his single-mindedness allows him to gain a unique tunnel vision and that he is much the same as a lion stalking it's pray. He is at one with his surroundings. Well this night was no different, and he put his head down and began to run. Witnesses likened the events that followed as being comparable to the fateful night that Martin mowed down Jamie in Eastenders. It began so well, Martin was getting a lovely text at the wheel of his car, flying through Albert square without a care in the world, the BLAM! Just the same as Jamie, Chris' night took a turn for the worse. He approached the table at top speed (roughly 5.5mph), arms swinging, face gritted with determination and legs pumping. He leapt. And then he fell. It was not a case of Chris flying full whack over the table or maybe pumping onto the table then maybe being knocked off by a careless reveller. He made it as far as the seat of bench. Not even as far as the top of the table, how pathetic. The drunk prat got one foot onto the seat, slipped and twisted his ankle on the floor. Oh dear. He then refused to accept that he should probably go home or get off his foot but soldiered on and stumbled round for another good two hours. Well done, Squire. As an epilogue to this story, Chris woke up the following morning and couldn't walk properly for a good two weeks and three months later his left ankle is still a bit gammy, he can't kick a football with his left foot. I suspect that Athletico Scope's medical team will be very busy when he returns from his season abroad.

Also, here's a question for everyone;

Would you rather be fisted by the Incredible Hulk or fingered by Edward Scissorhands?
Answers to be sent to the usual address and please enclose a self-addressed envelope so that we can send the prize to the lucky winner.

During our adventurous Hot Luncher's trip down the eastern coast of Australia our daring quartet decided to take on a Man vs. Wild (Born Survivor) style challenge. The daring 4some were dropped onto Fraser Island just off the East coast of Australia, near Harvey bay with only the following vital supplies:

1 4x4 truck (with a full tank of petrol)

3 tents

1 barbeque

2 coolers full of food

4 boxes of goon

1 crate of beer

1 map

1 football

1 spade (which was used for digging holes for shitting…niccce)

4 girls

And 2 others cars with all of the same stuff with 8 people in each one

The challenge was to survive for 2 and half days, get as pissed as possible, sleep as little as possible and show nature who's boss. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

Day one:

We arrived on Fraser island feeling a little worse for wear, same as always then, luckily only Tom and Chris had remembered their driving licenses so it suddenly dawned on them that they were the responsible for driving a top heavy 4x4 full of a lot of shit and 8 people (one of these was a pregnant girl!) around a sandy island for 2 and a half days with what was likely to be a heroic hangover for most of it. Nice one Martin and Simon. On arrival of Fraser Island Tom was forced to drive through the intrepid jungle although never having drove a 4x4 before, which, involved numerous curse words, large bumps and all round relief once we hit the beach. On arriving at the beach the Hot Lunchers ventured north towards the famous champagne pools. It was an arduous 1 hour drive on smooth sand. The champagne pools well deserved stress relief for the designated drivers and provided some much well deserved perving on the female members of the group. Needless to say Chris’s jaw is still slightly slacked from the experience. After some swimming and general buffoonery the group got dry in the sun and ventured back to the car. It was time to make camp. The 3 cars decided to meet up further down the beach to have a quite one in. On arrival on the designated camp site the separate groups proceeded set up the tents, barbeques etc. of course the only group who forget 1 tent small tent pole was the infamous Hot Lunchers, which caused cramped sleeping conditions, we’ll get back to this later. After some average food and useless nutrition the goon emerged from the cars, of course. All three cars then proceeded to converse and enjoy the scenery while having a quite. However, for one of our hot Lunchers this wasn’t enough. For a change centre stage was given to Christopher light on this auspicious night. Chris proceeded to out drink all members of the hot lunch crew and one by one alienated himself from the group by arguing, attempting to topless wrestle and having an all-round barney with everyone in the space on an hour, which also caused strange events such as martin throwing all the filters on the beach to exact revenge, again, good one martin. Once the little chap had settled down he decided it was time for bed as he had over done it slightly. Chris proceeded to what he thought was the male members of the group tent, he was wrong. Chris entered the female tent and after many strange noises emerging from said from the tent, Chris emerged wearing just his boxers and his satchel. If you listened carefully you could hear an all round “oh god” from the other members of the group. The other members thought it would be best to let him tire himself out. After what must have been minutes Chris re-entered the tent and began to show the female members of the group what he was all about. Chris bit a girls tattoo after admiring it, poked one of their legs for a good five minutes, spouted multiple lines of shit and then fell asleep on one of the girls (who had gargantuan breasts) stomach. They needless to say, were well impressed. Once Chris was asleep our other members decided it was their turn to show off. By this time there was only Tom, Martin and Simon and 2 random girls left on the beach out of the original 24 people who had been at this party. The girls then invited Tom Martin and Simon for some harmless drinking games, which quickly escalated into skinny dipping in highly shark infested breeding grounds while being very very drunk and it being very very dark. Simon then got lovely little hand job and Martin lost his torch and blamed everyone but himself, fucking northern monkey. Id like to take this opportunity to ask anyone who sees martin on the street please stop him and give his little bald manc head a ruddy good squeeze.

Day two:

On the second day of the trip all members of the group emerged their tents tired, bleary eyed and still pissed safe in the knowledge they had made their parents proud. In the blazing Australia sun with hangover sweats, covered in sea salt and general grease the brave adventurers were forced to take down the tents and remove all waste as it may attract the local dingos. It was morning of cheery faces and spritely activity with such events as Tom swan diving full force into the back on the 4x4 holding a massive tent it both hands due to him completely missing the target of the shelf in the top of the 4x4. it was epic. Alas, I digress. Once the campsite had been cleared it was time to move on. All of the groups decided Lake McKenzie, a large fresh water lake, would be a perfect location to nurse said hangovers and build them selves up for larger fall that night. Needless to sat Lake McKenzie came through and healed all of the Hot Lunchers and additional members. Or it may have been the key ring that Chris bought for $10 which described the characteristics of anyone named Rodney on it. After several hours rest and swimming in what was a very fresh but very cold Lake it was time to set up camp as nightfall was coming. The group ventured to a designated campsite without any reservations……ooooo daring. Again camp had to be set up. Alas, for this time it was not as successful as everything contained sand from the night before, including the Hot Lunchers. Once a hearty dinner was had the goon again emerged. Although less members of the group were present this night it was just as hectic as the previous. I must mentioned the other group wanted to get up for the sunrise, which meant no booze, early night and more than likely disturbing sounds coming from the Hot Lunchers site. The Hot Lunchers were, however, not interested in sunrise but enjoyed the simple pleasures of the goon. After numerous runs on the gauntlet and strange games of “I have never” the group slowly diminished one by one until 2 random girls turned up who seemed vaguely familiar. This was one of the girls who tom had pulled in cairns and also seen at the zoo and still did not recognise her. Nice work the Woolshed!!! After more goon and the fire dying down the remaining members went to bed after a hard days graft.

Day three:

On the final day of the trip spirits were starting to dwindle, so Lake McKenzie again seemed like the obvious choice. After cleaning up all the shit from the night before and packing up the car for the last time, which was probably the biggest ball ache ever (if you’ve ever met martin and had to experience getting him out of bed in the morning you’ll know why). So on arrival of Lake McKenzie and some well earned sunbathing, sleep and swimming. The group embarked on one last challenge, swim Lake McKenzie. It seemed like a good idea, but half way across the all members of the group quite regretted their decision. After a good 20 minutes swimming the group arrived on the other side. There was no chance anyone was capable of swimming back so it was decided that walking was the best options. A specific marker was left to show we had been there. Chris wrote 'clunge' in the sand, just so anyone who stepped foot on the isolated beach would know we had been there. Once the flaming ball in the sky began to make the shadow of the trees elongate we knew it was time go, leaving not just Lake McKenzie but Fraser altogether. After arriving back at the boat to take them off the island, the group fell silent reminiscing and bathing in the glory of what had just happened and what they had achieved over the last 2 and a half days. Nice work guys.

Bear Grylls, eat your heart out. This piece of literature can be used by anyone who finds themselves stranded on a deserted island. Just follow each step slowly and carefully and make sure not to rush. If you follow our guidelines, you are sure to have a blinding time.*

* Under no circumstances should the Australian Hot Lunch Authority be held responsible for any indecent assault charges arising from the following of the above guidelines.

We went to Surfer's Paradise, so we did. It was probably the most
commercialised place we've visited along the East Coast and though it
did happen to be a most enjoyable few days, it probably ranks as our
least favourite destination. It was quite built up and lacked the
natural beauty of so many of the other beach towns and cities and we
hadn't actually learnt to surf this point so the main draw the
destination was lost. I don't really know why I'm on about all this
because we all know that this blog is concerned with one thing and on
thing only, Tom making a tit of himself. Let's be honest, Martin, Chris
and Simon sporadically pop into the stories and offer some light relief
from Tom's relentless one man rampage of embarrassment, frivolity,
harassment and sexual disaster but we all know Whitmore is the star of
the show! So, I guess you're wondering what he's been up to now, well
the lip-ringed little Leicester Molester hasn't failed to deliver, my
friends! We went out on the 'East Coast Backpackers Bar Crawl', which
was fairly gash but we got a shitty free tie so swings and roundabouts,
and visited a few bars and it culminated in Tom, Simon, Martin,
Christopher, Lisa (Simon's beau) and Natalie (she had a lovely left
breast) leaving the rest of the barcrawl and going to a club on their
own. Unfortunately, it was gash. Luckily, Tom was there to entertain and
petrify the partygoers in equal measure. He started by harassing a fresh
faced 18 year old that he had kissed in Cairns and then proceeded to get
absolutely fooked and get slightly narky! He flounced around this dead
club, postulating and gesticulating (two of his favourite pastimes) and
decided he would make his own way home at about 1am. So off he went,
making his merry way home to the hostel, which was no more than 3 blocks
away, and the rest of the gang soon forgot about him and set about
enjoying the rest of the night (which included Chris being bought 5
shots by a hot off-duty stripper, he managed to use all his charm in
this situation and told her he couldn't be arsed to dance with her and
that he was going outside for a fag instead). Anyway, the rest of the
gang staggered around for a bit, Martin and Simon were playing pool and
hanging around, like you do, and then Chris decided he was far too
smashed and decided to go home. He told his group in a coherent and
informative manner that he was 'cunted' and that he needed to go home,
lest he was to puke on the bar then get confused and be found spooning a
hobo the next morning. Another man down, only Martin and Simon left. The
night ends amicably for the remaining Hot Lunchers and they walk the
girls home to their hostel. Simon decides to end his eve with a shag and
Martin simply drops off Natalie Barkerand begins to make his merry way
home. BUT STOP, there be a twist in the tale my friends! Martin is
strolling along, whistling a merry tune and what should he find on the
edge of the road, only Chris! Martin found him sitting roughly 30 metres
from the club with two suspicious looking stains either side of him. The
more cynical person would suggest that because they looked, smelt and
tasted like vomit then that is what they must be, but Christopher still
denies these ludicrous accusations. So on they go, there now be two of
them and they are a mere 5 minute walk from their hostel. They arrive at
the hostel, find Tom in bed and another Canadian girl who was in our
room fast asleep (They weren't sharing a bed, just to clarify). The time
was around 4.30am and the two hot Lunchers were most weary, so what did
they do, why go to sleep of course. Lovely sleep 'twas. Morning broke
over Surfer's Paradise and Tom rose from his deep slumber adorned with
terrible breath, bleary eyes and headache that could slay a mongoose. He
then informed Martin and Chris that he had had a wonderful journey home
and that he arrived back at the hostel at roughly 4.15am. So, he had
left the club at 1am and got home at 4.15am. Plus, it had only cost him
$80 and taken 3 and a half hours! He had a massive 3 blocks to travel,
ALONG ONE ROAD AS WELL, NO TURNING REQUIRED! What have we learnt from
this story is that Tom could, and very possibly may, be a special. So,
if you see him on the street, give him a biscuit and pat him on the
head, they love that.

Watch and learn my friends, who says romance isn't alive in these hectic times.

It has been a long time since we published a blog entry, and for that we apologise. We have been in Sydney for two weeks now and what with the getting a flat and a job (which we have pretty much failed to achieve on both counts!) we've let our blogging slip a bit. But fear not, we are ready and armed with a few inspiring tales from our trips. Just to keep you hungry for more, here is a short video we made on the Whitsunday Islands, we're thinking of sending it to Wish you were here..

It might take a couple of minutes to load up, so be be patient now.

So, Tom has been at it again. We arrived at Surfer's Paradise and bumped into a couple of girls that we had met a couple of times previously on our Fraser Island camping trip and at The Australia Zoo. We said hello, they said hello, we pretended to be interested in what they had to say and so it continued, but there was a hitch. Tom discovered, after punch had loosened tongues to a worrying degree, that he had pulled one of the girls in Cairns a couple of months ago. This was fine, we were pleased for him...Okay, that's a lie, we couldn't care less. In fact it was completely the opposite rection from the other Hot Lunchers! As soon as we heard this we knew his pervy little eyes would light up and target themselves upon her young ass. And so it was, the poor girl never stood a chance. We shan't bore you with the details of their courtship but let us just tell you this, Tom's developed some sort of rash on a certain part of his body and he has to make sure that girls really like him, otherwise when they take off his pants they may think twice about letting him do the clunge plunge! Don't tell him we told you all though, he's a bit embarassed about it! The young lady did not seem to mind about his affliction but there is suspicion that that has more to do with the dark room and copious amounts of goon that she had ingested. So, they had sex. Squelchy squelchy sex. We then departed to Byron Bay and shacked up in what's basically a hippy commune.

This post shall be finished soon, the computer we're using is really slow..

Martin kicked himself in the balls today. It was whilst playing football and by accident. Ouch.

Hotlunchers have departed England in order to broaden their minds, make new friends, not get shafted by tax, and one of them has gone to pick up as many STD's as he can (Tom). One of these reasons has since been dropped, as it appears that Martin, Simon and Chris, and an adopted hotluncher Dan don't like people. They can't explain why but to them talking to new people seems like too much effort. It could be the fact that every fuckin backpacker asks the same questions and really they don't want to know how long people have been away, or which way they're travelling. The Hot Lunchers made some effort, once, but questions about people's favourite music led them to hatred of many, The killers just ain't that good!!!! A classic case of this happened on a boat tour round the whitsundays, which lasted 2 nights and 3 days. One would assume that in such enclosed environments with 20 other people they would try and make friends. Not these guys. They sat at the front of the boat both nights, a box of goon with them of course, and growled at people who tried to make friends with them. I think they're just very good friends though. On one occasion two girls came, sat down (despite the growling), and tried their bloody hardest.........but the Hotlunchers just got up and went to the other end of the boat! Simon then slept with one of these girls at a later date, her name is Lisa!!!

Through all this you may wonder where Tom was. Well, him and Ollie did what comes natural to them; they were harrassing every woman on the boat. This is because they are registered sex pests. They love trying to get their winkles played with....... to no success though, but they tried bloody hard. Which brings me to a closing thought; If at first you don't succeed then try every girl, and if you still get nowhere, drink more goon so you dont remember making a twat of ones self in the search for quim.

When very, very, very drunk, two hotlunchers, Martin and Simon, enjoy nothing more than discussing why sales can or cant be an arm of marketing.......... they dont just talk about sex like most drunk men. To enjoy this level of interlectual conversation there are a few musts:

1. Goon, and lots of it
2. Necking Stella while out because it seems like a good idea
3. Interlect
4. No interest in women
5. Peep show - watch it religiously

Number four is a must, because women can never be involved in such an enlightening conversation. So for everyone out there, we do do others things other than making twats out of ourselves.......... we talk business

For most regular human beings 8 hours sleep is considered to be sufficient. However, Martin Charles Howarth is no regular man. Unfortunately we cannot specify how much sleep Martin needs as it can affected whatever escapades the rascal has been up to. From the beginning of this trip 3 of our heroic hot luncher's have been able to survive with the aforementioned amount of sleep and have seen far more daylight than Howarth. Needless to say martin sleeps a fucking lot of the time and is a ball ache to get him up andWe cannot explain why martin sleeps for such a large amount of the time, it may be due to his innards being lined with fast food and alcohol stewing in his liver and his poor little withered body is having a tough time dealing with the punishment. Martin's incredible sleeping powers are not the greatest mystery, for some strange reason when martin has consumed a large amount of goon he will be able to rise and maybe shine. We cannot explain why this is so. However, once the booze has worn off, back to bed he goes. To give an example of Howarth's sleeping powers, Martin was able to fall asleep on a racing yacht while it was at full sail, tilted at 35 degree angle for at least 1 and half hours. Impressive, I hear you say, maybe, but I cannot stress enough how much this hinders our other Hot Luncher's day!

This is him in his natural environment, look how happy he is!

Hello there bloggers, hope all is fine where you are on the planet. What follows is a brief explanation of why Simon Bartlett is sometimes - and I stress sometimes, a little down. Its not because he misses home, or the fact you cant get Lucozade Sport in Oz (although this is a sour point for all hotlunchers). No, none of these reasons work, its not even the fact they changed Neighbours to channel five before he embarked.................. it is solely due to him sleeping, or at least trying to sleep, with women he doesn't actually like!!! The first question that may pop into mind is why does he do this? Well there is currently no scientific reason, there have been tests, but it seems the most pleasure young Simon gets from these experiences is when the fine (average) young women in question leave. It all started in Cairns, with a fine young lady, and she was quite a looker. The problem was she sounded like something out of Emerdale, and wouldn't just accept that Simon was Jimmy Anderson....... she pestered him for hours with tedious questions. Simon clearly has read the critically aclaimed book 'A Brief History of Jimmy Anderson'. He got every question right, and got her in bed. Chris didnt find this experience too good, he only wanted a picture to show our adouring audience, and she stole his bloody camera (which has since been returned). There were two other girls in question, the first was pretty enough and as soon as she turned up at our room with her friend in tow (She was friends with one of our roommates) her intentions were obvious. She wanted to schlong Simon. She plonked her formidable ass down next to him and informed him that he was on her team for the drinking card game. She proceeded to ever cosier to the boy from Manchester with blonde highlights, everyone clocked this and winks and nudges were exchanged, oh yes we knew exactly what was going down! Anyway, the night wore on, drinks were had, goon was spilt and dancefloors were seriously cut up. Most of the Hotlunchers returned to the room at various points in the early morning, except for one. Simon. He dragged his sorry ass back to Gilligans (The hostel) at around 4pm the next with our roommate and, dare I say it, new friend Ross (You will learn more about this Fella in a post to come). They had both struck lucky with the two girls who had turned up at our room the night previous. YESSS!!! HE GOT SEX!!! BRILLIANT!!! This would be the normal response to the situation. But something was amiss; Simon looked drawn, he seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. What was going on, we wondered. He plonked himself down on his bed and began to reveal all. I won't bore you with the details but you should consider  the following information in the light of the fact that we were very drunk when she turned up and there was no light on the balcony so we didn't really get a good look at the young lady. I digress, basically he broke the damning news to us by saying, 'Let's just say she had a steak on her shoulder'. This led to confused looks being a exchanged between his captivated audience, 'What are you talking about?', asked Tom. 'She had a bit of meat on her, is what I mean', Si responded. Oh no. This was not good. We all had a moment of silence to reflect on what had happened and then after Simon had had a little sob to himself in the corner we had to just resolve to move in. It's important to have your friends around you in times of sorrow and despair.  Thank god that he had the shoulders of 3 sympathetic Hot Lunchers to cry on. Thank god.

And onto the next girl he didn't want to nob but did anyway! She went by the name of Lisa. She was far better looking but very annoying. For some reason though Si didn't seem to mind this when she took all her clothes off and writhed around with him and let him spray his love tonic on her face! RESULT FOR BARTO!

P.S. Tom had a really smelly shit today.

Until next time...

This is a quick post from us in the land down under and it is about Martin. It is in fact a continuation from an earlier and previously mentioned incident, when Martin told the girl from Manchester he was a county cricket player in order to bed her. Basically, what we would like to share with you today is that he had a wee bit o' trouble in that department! Did he get her back to his room, I hear you asking. Why yes! Of course he did, he's Martin Charles Howarth, he's basically sex on legs! However, it was once he got her back to his bed that the trouble began. He put his winkle in her special place, which is the first hurdle overcome. Well done Martin. But we all know that that is just the starting point for sexy time. In order for both parties involved to derive some pleasurable feelings from this 'sticky' situation we must THRUST. Thrusting is very important. This is where Martin fell spectacularly short. For two nights in a row she let him 'enter' her special place and was only allowed 2 thrusts before she withdrew him. After this contiuned for near on a week he finally hit the magic three and then just as he was about to try out the fantastic fourth poke, Chris and Tom walk in the room. Foiled again! On the bright side, during the middle of the day (when three other people, none of whom were Hot Lunchers, were in the same room) Martin had a wank in his bed.

Here is the girl leaving Martin's bed after another night of having a 'speed schlong'..

Please observe the following tips, strategies and techniques for seducing the fairer sex. But, and we cannot stress this enough, use caution when trying these because they are normally only practised and used by professional ladykillers such as ourselves and may result in girls going radio rental (mental) for you. After every tip we will mark the name of the Hot Luncher that invented the move. Thank you for reading.

1. When attending a Coyote Ugly performance at an Irish bar with Professional dancers on the bar, you should turn to the nearest girl and girn inanely whilst shouting the following witty comments;

'Mum, get down!'
'What's my girlfriend doing up there!'
'Men!' (This should be combined with rolling of the eyes and a smarmy grin)
'Where's the water!'

These were all from Tom Whitmore. Needless to say, this failed. She thought he was a plum.

2. Tell two dopey but likeable girls from Manchester that you two of you are professional England cricketers (Jimmy Anderson and an unspecified county level cricket player, on the brink of his England call up) in order to get sex. This was 100% successful and was tested by Martin and Simon. You must be careful with this technique as they may require further evidence when they are not smashed. Especially if they live in the room opposite. And you are clearly lying. And you have to hide from them all the time (This is made harder when Chris shouts her name all the time and Simon has to scurry around the hostel like a blue arsed fly).

3. Tell Random girls that your Grandad invented any of the following; Lego / Ribena / Parking meters. This was tried by Martin, on the whole it failed and people tended to berate Martin for every parking fine they have every recieved.

4. Tell People that your job at home is to thread the laces through trainers. Chris gave this a whirl, it failed.

5. Wander up to a girl on the dancefloor and, in a seedy voice, sleaze the following sentence at her, 'I've been watching you for over half an hour'. The genius who thought this might secure him some minky was Tom. Do you think this worked? Silly question really. He is an idiot and it failed!
 
6. Clamber into a tent full of girls whilst blind drunk, empty your satchel, repack said satchel, poke one of the girls legs for a bit, attempt to eat the back of a girl with a tattoo and then pass out on one of their stomachs.  This was Chris' favoured technique and whilst he still maintains that they bloody loved it, there is some suspicion amongst the others that it in fact made him look like a pissead pervert.

7. Tell a ridiculously hot girl who thinks that you are gay that you are straight but when examined under further questioning by said hottie, admit that you are a bit gay, but only when drunk. Well done Tom.

Thank you and good night.

As you may or may not know, The Australian trip began in a somewhat fragmented manner. Chris arrived first, then Simon a day later and finally Martin and Tom one day after that. This meant that, for the first night, Chris was on his own. Those of you who know about his amazing social skills may think to yourself that this would present no problems whatsoever, but it turns out that he's not so good with people. Oh dear. He found himself the other side of the world and knowing not a soul. W ith a steely look of determination, Chris immediately sought out other loners. Almost immediately, he found success in the shape of a Canadian guy called Shane. They were united by a drunk old Australian man who wandered into the tour office they were sitting in and proceeded to be thrown out, but not before he tried to bargain with the staff by opening his bag and pulling out a bell pepper that was easily the size of a football and slurring, 'But look at what I've got!'. Impressive as this was, he was still thrown out. I digress, the point is that Chris had made a friend (The Canadian guy, not the drunk old Aussie). As night drew ever closer Chris and his comapanion met some Canadian girls and got really drunk, Chris lost everyone and started talking to an Australian girl with nice breasts. He was dragged to the local meatmarket, The Woolshed, and met her friends, got even more drunk, threw some incredible moves out on the dance floor for everryone to enjoy and ended up pulling the ample-chested girl's less hot mate. Good work, son. HOWEVER, all was not as it seemed. It turns out that no matter how much of a tit Chris made of himself over the next 3 week period, how many times he passed out whilst in bed with her instead of finishing the job or how many days he failed to respond to her texts, she still kept comiing back. No one knows why, it certainly wasn't his charm, sexual prowess or awesome sense of humour, we all know he isn't a rich man and probably not the cleverest but still she was not deterred. Maybe it was because she had both her nipples pierced, there are theories that this can turn women insane in the membrane. Although she was a bit strange and clearly a little bit mental, every time Chris found himself drunk and in her bed he had a lovely time in the morning as she would pop out and buy him Lucozade and a sausage roll; WINNER WINNER, CHICKEN DINNER!!

The night starts off as usual, Martin in his boxers for 8 hours, Tom playing with his hair for 2 hours, Simon restyles his hair 15 times and Chris empties his bag everywhere. This general ritual is followed by 1 hour of goon at our favourite wooden table outside 2 kangaroos (if this means nothing to you, dont worry). The lovely (hideous) girls in 2 kangaroos did their usual moaning at the amount of drunken shite coming from 4 extremely friendly English mouths; time to go to the Woolshed!!! 

After the usual stumble, which took approximately 20 minutes (10 by daylight), we enter the only establishment that suits our nature, the infamous Woolshed. To put it into perspective, its like the Carlton but sleazier!! If you dont know the Carlton, then it was basically a room, with music, alcohol, and women dancing on tables looking for a bone to chew.

On the night in question, Mr Thomas Whitmore got a little lucky towards the end of the night. We say lucky, but thats for you all to decide, because what happened 20 minutes before he found this lovely lass is quite interesting.

To begin with, the girl in question had her eyes firmly set on the other three hotlunchers, whom Tom is travelling with. She systematically tried to pull, cop off with, snog, french kiss, bone, suck off, etc.The fact off the matter is, the other hot lunchers had a winning combination of less alcohol and the power of sight, so stood firm on a 'No' to this girls approaches. Tom didnt, and so took her home.

Tom insisted on 45 minutes to do his magic, we know he only needed 15 really, but we gave him the time anyway.