Welcome back to monotony kids. A debaucherous week and a half of steaming, debating, crushed fingers, written warnings, hula hoops, self dismissal, naked women, midnight masturbation, Avon ladies and all washed down with “just one more shot of Jager” It has been emotional my friends, it has been a heart break. Full of the Good, the Bad and the Ugly as it were. Hang on now. Wait one damn moment, I’m getting way ahead of myself, let us begin were we left off.

Puerto Rico.


It rocks! Enough said, ja!


We are threatened to be held captive by Capt Boo Boo, but some how several of us break our bonds and flee to celebrate hours of freedom and for me Australia day. Some bar hopping and strolling sees us in the midst’s of some hip hopping Quebecian bankers. Oh how impressed they were when I took my poor French vocabulary and sprinkled it through out conversation. Eating out of the palms of our hands had Supa Stew and I. The night is also Cloggie's first successful conquest and last one of quality. It being with a wonderful Lebanese princess. “did you know Leban means tit or milk”…………… (Yes it does and Oh yes he did!.... Smooth huh), but English is his 2nd language, so kudos to him!.

Ok B-line to Key West. Sure we stopped along the way and did some of that swimming in the stars concentrate luminescence malarkey, scuba diving, trekking blah blah blah, but enough of the hippy nature crap. Not when Key West is full of lovely architecture, vagabonds, strippers and homosexuals, a simple concoction which equals good dirty fun, and oh how we all love a little of that hot sauce splashed on our chili dog, don’t we!

We have a horrendous time tying up our floating wedding cake in a stiff 30 knots blowing the snot out of the tremendously tight marina. A hundred onlookers watching our cluster fekk ungracefully unfold before them and all praying for it to get just a little worse (Oh please hit something, please hit something) all for their entertainment, and to breifly stick it to the rich. Imagine if you can reversing a semi trailer/big rig into a field of land mines and then needing to do a 360 turn to save your arse. Crew scramble to gather all lines and fenders from one side to the other, with stewies working as fender bitches ensuring our piece of floating plastic stays just that. Bouncing us off angry concrete waiting to take a bite. Its like a giant game of operation, except with Mr Milton Bradley himself standing over you waiting to deliver a donkey punch to the back of your head if you faux pas! (Mnneaaaaant flash flash) "punch" GAME OVER dickhead. However The Bouffe head succeeded diligently, thanks to the fender bitches. So to celebrate I went about the boat to find a good door to slam my finger in, so as to deliver myself stitches five. Which I am proud to say, I succeeded in.

Ok now let the fun begin. Stitches fives seems to prove a saving grace for me and crew alike as guilty owners leave us to it and choose to eat off the boat for the next week. Oh I love these guys, I could kiss their high grade wax shined balding heads.

THE UGLY: Sloppy Joe's is our first stop for some Sloppy Ritas and to watch a fantastically skinny blond girl Gwen Stephani her butt off to some Twisted Sisters “we’re not gunna take it” with fist punching to the air. It was hilarious.
Cloggie, Supa Stew and I at some stage find our selves in a strip club, unsure as to how we had arrived, and thinking very little of the experience. That is until some lovely Eastern European lass dropped her scant draws and did an exotic impression of a mollusk seething its way across polished floor boards. Needless to say, we were a gob smacked trio. Even Cloggie’s jaw is dropped at this display and lets face it, Cloggie has seen, taken and shagged it all. Twice, in fact. In shock we scramble for something a little more “low key” at Zü Bar. WRONG!
Into our second drink, an empty bar. When two girls stumble in off the street with friends, dance around a bit then, strip bare, molest the buggery out of a “gawd knows when was the last time that thing was washed” copper shined pole, then leave……
Welcome to what is night ONE of Key West. You Get Picture! Oh but the night does not end here. I will not bore you with all details but lets just say Cloggie found his first 250lb American girl and had his morally questionable way with her. Only dragging his arse back on board around 9am, right past the owners having breakfast, smelling of rum and cellulite “guten morgen”…………. thus begins day two.

THE BAD: This is emotionally horrendous. The bull shite of Capt Boo Boo and his Boo Boo’s all day every day has the crew on the verge of serious mutiny. No one has had luck in penetrating the thick Neanderthal skull of The Bouffe head. Unknowingly the gauntlet is accidentally thrown down, and by myself no less. Fekk Fekk Fekk. (last chef was sacked this way) A one on one controlled debate develops between Capt Boo Boo and myself in the crew mess. One by one crew sit down to listen, the result is the first crew meeting in five weeks and crew, one by one addresses their misery and the cause. It lasts for hours and leaves all exhausted, yet hopeful. A hope we find is to last about 12 hours. In short this leads to a follow up meeting the next morning which results in crew loosing the little time off they have, rosters are torn to pieces and 1st mate is handed a written warning resulting in his polite “go fukk yourself” resignation. The Crew hits a new, lowest ebb. There is only one thing left for it. Jagermiester!

THE GOOD: We begin our 1st Mate farewell night at a different haunt once we discover the skinny blond girl in Sloppy Joe's repeats the same songs, lines and jokes night after night. There is only so long however one can resist her charm and so we leave the Rum Barrel enroute to her "not gunna take it" self and ol' Sloppy’s. In passing the Smallest Bar in Key West, drinks in hand we have no choice to stop if just for the novelty and just one more shot of Jager…….............
subsequently we never left. Take a phone booth, if you would, push it on its side, fill it with as many drunk people as possible, a grey parrot, two hula hoops, a three piece band and an Avon lady and voila. You have the smallest bar in Key West. It was AWESOME! Night after night. Incredibly social, you had no choice but to introduce yourself to the person next to you. The only place where I could buy the entire bar a round. It was here we hit the highs and lows of our stay. Super Stew was approached by a balding knob of a man named Kev who some how found it acceptable to compliment Supa Stew with her likeness to Tom Hanks, which is ridiculous. Mr Hanks is much taller. We chatted with ex-heroin addicts come writers, travelers, locals. Twirled with hula hoops, Pocket Rocket dancing on the tiny bar and Jagermeister, always just one more shot of Jager. I was set upon at one stage by a large black woman thrusting Avon products in my face and making biting attempts at my neck. Never have I been so happy to see Cloggie arrive on the scene and destract her lovely self appropriately. Then there was the moment. You know the ones. When there is bright light of wonderful energy pulsing from one person in the room. Your paralysed, mesmerised, hypnotised and ultimately begin to fantasise. Stunning she is and fekking engaged. Two personalities entwined as one just for a moment, a minute an evening. To be blown away and fall for a complete unavailable stranger for a single evening is a terribly refreshing and frustrating experience and one I thoroughly recommend! A jewel in the crown of a simple yachties romantic dreariness.

Anyway our final day starts out in the normal way, I sneak off the yacht at 10am to sneak Cloggie his uniform which he transforms into on the steps of what is the winner of the best historical site in Key West 3 years running. No really!
Then I slap the back of his head for selling himself to the Avon lady. He is ashamed at how low he has sunk and it is enough to send Cloggie into a run of sobriety. Before his dick drops off. So we stow ourselves and latch down the hatches on route for Cuba, but with only one generator and an itchy to get moving Bouffe head, one can only prepare for the worst. Oh but how I hear you whisper, how could things possibly go bad from here…………….

Oh silly you......




Just wait,




Just you wait and see!





Ciao, tschüse, doei