This post is coming to you live from Africa. My male staff decided at the last minute to take me with him to an African travel trade fair in Durban. It was a comfortable flight for me at least. He packed me into his checked-in luggage along with his clothes, so I was very cosy thank you very much, and I had a virtually unlimited supply of lettuce, though I didn't appreciate the somewhat rough handling dished out to my bag by the baggage handlers. Going round in circles on that bloody conveyor belt made me feel pretty queasy too. Not as queasy as my male staff will feel when he finally unpacks and finds twenty hours worth of bush chocolate amongst his clothes.
Okay I've been in Africa a whole hour and not seen a single rhino yet. I thought I did once but it was just a fat geezer with a big nose. I'm not sure what the plan is for this afternoon. Hopefully my male staff will have a shower and change his clothes. He smells worse than a hyena on heat. Not that I know what they smell like but I imagine it's not good. The wrinkles in his clothing make him look like the back end of an elephant, so I'm hoping he'll change them too, if he can find some that aren't smeared with bush chocolate. Ah! The joys of travelling. At least he has my company now. Apparently a fat, oozy chick sat next to him on the plane, squishing him into a corner, so that every time he moved his hand during the night he came up with a fistful of lard. That'll teach the cheapskate to fly comedy class.
I've been watching the hotel telly while my male staff has been out all day at the trade show. Thought I'd better not watch any of the adult movies because my staff might not appreciate the cost. I have however been watching an American evangelical preacher, which is almost as good. This guy was waving his arms about in his crisp white suit, yelling that when humans go to heaven they will be stripped of their clothes by St Peter at the pearly gates because God did not intend humans to wear clothing. All I can say is that I hope I don't end up there. It won't be a pretty sight at all and the chances of bumping into Marilyn Monroe are somewhat overshadowed by the likelihood of running into a fat wrinkly dead dude like Winston Churchill.
finally today I'd like to relate a conversation that I happened to overhear while waiting in the bar at Brisbane airport. It was a bit muffled of course because I was packed away in my male staff's bag with a sock stuffed in one ear and a handkerchief in the other. A young chap had obviously taken a liking to a girl in the bar. I heard him say. "You're very beautiful. I bet you're an airline hostess aren't you?" The girl seemed to ignore him but he persisted. "Okay", he said. "Will you talk to me if I can guess which airline you work for?" Still no answer from the chicky babe so he continued. "I'll say a few airline slogans and you nod if I get it right. Singapore girl, you're a great way to fly." Nothing. "The world's favourite airline." Nothing. "Fly smooth as silk." Nothing, but then suddenly the chicky babe spoke up.
"Look you creep. What the fuck do you want?"
"Ah ha!" the young chap exclaimed. "I knew it! Qantas!"