Ok, well I'm going to try to update this fairly regularly. I haven't really ever kept a proper blog except Comerford News and that kind of died a death recently.
So here it goes.

On Monday, the 11th of August we took off from Dublin airport round about 6pm.
We had a 2 hour Aer Lingus flight to London Heathrow, which was more of an endurance test than the 12 hour Qantas flight to Singapore, because, well, because it was Aer Lingus, and anyone who knows me knows how I feel about Aer Lingus. So the less said about that the better I think.
The flights were fairly uneventful, although the bar in Singapore Airport was quite nice, so naturally I spent most of the wait there sampling the local Tiger Beer. When in Rome. . .

So by the time we got to Bali it was 12.05am local time Wednesday, and we were greeted by a guy from the hotel, who drove us from the airport for a nominal fee.
It was really warm and the weather forecast the day before said that the humidity would be up around 79%. Now I don't really know what that means to be honest but I assumed it was high, and I was proven right when we stepped out of the air-conditioned airport terminal, and the sweat started to pour almost immediately out of my forehead, back, arse-crack, and every other sweat gland-equipped patch of skin on my body, and wearing a green t-shirt, the effects of the climate soon began to show.

The hotel was about 15 minutes away in the car, with leather seats, which did absolutely nothing to help the sweating.
When we got to the hotel we checked into what would be our home for the next three days.

We spent our first day coming to the conclusion, that, in my haste to book somewhere cheap, I didn't look into the location very well, and we discovered that the part of the island we were staying in - Sanur - was popular with mostly old couples and honeymooners.
Nice one Vinnie.
We spent that night in one of the "busier" bars in town, trying the local beer, Bintang, which is quite good. If you like Heineken but are feeling a little adventurous, this is the beer for you.
So after copious amounts of Bintang, I decided that no wrong could come from my idea to get up and ask the band if I could sing a bit with them. . . (?!)
They said no problem, and I asked them if they knew any Elvis songs, I really should have been asking myself the same question because I'm pretty sure I butchered Blue Suede Shoes and Suspicious Minds. I'm not even sure what songs they were to be honest
The band were pretty damn good, although I had to be led off the stage after repeatedly dropping the microphone in my stupor.
But as we discovered, the island has a pretty relaxed attitude and I was just led back to my table and the beer once again began to flow.

After closing time, stumbling out of the bar, I found myself on the back of a moped (yeah, a moped!) bound for my hotel.
What a strange little place we've come to. . .
The next day was largely spent recovering. Bintang doesn't leave much of a headache, but it'll turn the contents of your bowel into something with a strong resembance to a very watery beef soup. There you go, get a good mental image of that sitting in the toilet bowl. Yeah, that's it.

So after several more nights out on the rip, both in Sanur and Kuta - where the action is - we decided we needed to do something touristy, because if I wanted to drink, I could stay home, and wouldn't be shitting water seven thousand miles away.
One of the bar staff at a snooker/pool bar had said that if we wanted he would take us to the monkey forest, the volcano, the Hindu temple, and the . . . . zoo. . .
The monkey forest, I have never seen anything like, you buy fruit on your way in and as soon as you get into the forest, there's monkeys everywhere grabbing at the food darting around the trees.
One monkey stole the roll of film I was about to put in my camera, and ran about 10 feet away from me. Then an old Indonesian lady came up to me with a banana,
so

After surviving a gruelling two day hangover, which resulted in what felt at the time like the permanent loss of the use of my digestive system (the lining of my stomach having been discarded into a litter bin on Wenceslas Square) thanks to our Jagermeister fuelled first night, I felt well enough to venture a beer again. It went down well. Well enough that I felt another one would be the perfect way to celebrate my new found health. There was a football match on the telly, Ireland were playing Germany, we lost, but as I see football only as an excuse for the few scoops, I wasn’t too bothered, the Germans at the back of the bar were typically nauseating in victory, in defeat, the Irish seemed more lively than the winners. There wasn’t any singing or joviality from them during the course of the game, but in a desperate attempt to show us they were actually enjoying themselves they formed a conga line as they were leaving, almost immediately after the game ended.
So, as I partook in one after the other of the many, many, Czech beers, light and dark, I began to feel the telltale rumble in the lower part of my stomach, and I quickly made my way to the gents’.
By the time I had finished wiping the last guys piss off the seat, I was in agony, the contents of my stomach seemed almost to be fizzing. Churning and splashing as if there were an Atlantic storm in there.
When I finally got the seat dry I sat down and let loose. I’ll never forget the sound it made. Like someone pouring out a bag of gravel inside an echoing cave. I started breaking out in a sweat and as I clung onto the adjacent hand basin I felt as though I was about to pull it of the wall.
Although it was an immensely painful experience, there was also a sense of almost orgasmic relief, as the gas and liquid were expelled, my outstretched stomach was allowed to relax. The relief in my abdomen however, was far exceeded by the torment being experienced by my now ridiculously swollen sphincter as it tried to push what felt like 50 gallons of high pressure gas and liquids through the eye of a needle.
For the next half hour I proceeded to jet-wash this ancient toilet pan with the contents of my bowels.
By the end, I was physically, mentally and emotionally drained, my t-shirt was soaked in sweat and I was nearly crying and laughing at the same time, at least I would have been if I wasn’t almost completely out of breath.
Then came the clean-up.
When the cheap, dry, rough toilet paper made contact was the lowest point of my life. It felt like barbed-wire covered in sandpaper, soaked in ascorbic acid. My anal opening was so swollen and sensitive that if I had been wiping with angels feathers it still would have hurt. I couldn’t bear to use the dry paper anymore, so I just sat there for a moment feeling sorry for myself. I knew I had to get up at some stage because Comer ford was still in the bar on his own and would probably be getting a pain in his hole sitting there, no pun intended.
I grabbed a few squares of the toilet roll, folded it up and ran it under the cold tap. Within seconds my misery was turned to joy as the freezing cold, damp, soothing paper touched my ring. I’ve never cried in a toilet cubicle before, but this time I came very, very close. It was just such a profound sense of happiness, I am still dumbfounded at the thought that such a beautiful moment could come from such a horrendous ordeal.
Then I tried to walk, my ring was still swollen and tender which made basic perambulation more difficult than usual. I made my way gingerly back to the table Comer ford and I were at, and sat down again.
Although I was terrified of the possible consequences, I figured that nothing could be as bad as what I had just went through, and ordered another beer, which I felt I had earned, and lit a cigarette, which I sorely needed.

WEEK 10
Comerford Airlines completed its controversial takeover of african firm, Air Namibia during the week, making it the only airline in the world that has more planes, than pilots. But the airlines one and only pilot - Comerford - was diagnosed with the rare condition, "Omnilocationitis" at a very young age allowing him to be in over 50 places at once. the condition allows him to fly all of Comerford Airlines' planes, get passengers to their various airports on time, and usually be home in time for dinner. A Namibian passenger summed up yesterday the thoughts of people worldwide when he simply said; "Jaysis boy, that comerford fella's some man like!"

WEEK09
Comerford's Latest album, "Raining in My Heart" is set to cause major controversy when it is released this week. The album which features the hit single, "If You Ever Leave Me (I Swear I'll Track You Down)", and "Rubber Love Glove" has caused uproar among the moral majority due to its explicit content, graphic descriptions of sex, violence, alcohol abuse, homeless abuse and just plain rudeness. "Raining in My Heart" will be released on friday, and is available in all good record shops.

WEEK08
Comerford has placed number 1 in Heat magasines "Top 20 Loveable Rogues" Survey for this year it has emerged, also mentioned on the list were a host of famous rascals including Shane MacGowan, Eamonn Dunphy, Garfield, and Bart Simpson. Comerford is said to be elated to have won the impressive title, as it anchors him more solidly than ever into the hearts of his fans and as one of the nations favourite sons. Updates as they happen, Only on Comerford News

WEEK07
Speakng at a Press Conference today on the recent spate of disappearing Comerford News Segments, the editors of the weekly news column released this statement: The Editors would like to apologise for the recent lack of new Comerford News articles over the past three weeks. This is due to operatives in the employ of rival local celebrity news source -the Shero Gazette- capturing and destroying the latest rough drafts of Comerford News, bound for Bebo's head office. In future, all comerford news articles will be released at random, to ensure maximum security, so that such acts of callousness may never be repeated. The editors would also like to take this chance to thank all of Comerford News' readers and fans across the globe, without whom (and Comerford of course), the unprecedented success of Comerford News could not be possible.

WEEK06
Festivities for Comerfords 21st birthday got underway world-wide this weekend, Comerford News can reveal. In Adis Ababa, Somalia, large effigies of Comerford were paraded through the streets, while in Kuala Lumpur, over a hundred pigs, cows, chickens, prawns and other barbeque animals were sacrificed in his honor. Meanwhile, here in Dublin, Comerford himself donned his ceremonial toga and laurel wreath and rode a magnificent Grecco-Roman style chariot, drawn by two white horses, down O'Connell Street at the head of a procession of over 5000 men, women and children. Large parties were held across the city, and his Geomajesty even saw fit to grace the humble St. Peregrines GAA Club with his prescence (a source close to St. Peregrine informs us that he and comerford became good friends a number of years ago.). Comerfordd then made his way to the lavish "Heaven" nightclub, where serving wenches fed him grapes and wine until the early hours of the morning.

WEEK05
Comerford plans to launch his own television station - ComerfordTV - it emerged yesterday, in an exclusive interview to Comerford News. The channel will be broadcast on NTL, Chorus, Sky Digital, Sky HD and will be home to a wide variety of high quality Comerford related programming. Featured on ComerfordTV will be several talkshows, all hosted by Comerford himself, Comerford Sports - which will have live coverage of all of Peregrine CLG's football and hurling matches, the Masculine Grunting World Championships and Law