Gangster's and/or Surfer's Paradise

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.