The Door, The Date, The Debbie

Another inopportune moment, another chance to write a blog entry. This time we are locked in our beach hut. Seriously. We got up this morning to go on a mangrove safari and the door wouldn't open. I was stood in the window for an hour waiting until someone went by that we could shout to. I lie slightly as one person did go by, his name is Harries and I couldn't call out to him as we were somewhat rude to him the other day when he pestered us to go on one of his safaris. We've now been in here for two hours and have three people trying to break into our hut to let us out, it's absolutely Laurel and Hardy slapstick.

So I thought I'd fill you in on how my 'date' went. To Matt's great disappointment I managed to wangle my way out of taking her to the nightclub by explaining that I felt too unwell following the excesses of the previous night. She didn't seem too upset, no doubt because the humidity had once again caused great beads of sweat to pour down my face and onto my t-shirt. As I valiantly tried to wipe them away as inconspicuously as possible, she knew she'd had a lucky escape.

The nightclub we fell in love with at the start of the week turned out to be our short-lived new home due to the fact that Ramadan started on Wednesday and shut down for a whole seven days - they're so inconsiderate them Muslims! Our concern over where we might get a bevvy from during this period of fasting was promptly quenched by our trusted friend Debbie from the Irish bar, who told us that she would be staying open until 3am every night serving booze and food to the masses. That wasn't all she told us either. Debbie was married many moons ago to a man whom she had three children with. He turned out to be a nasty piece of work and so she left him. Steven, an Irish man who worked as a chef on the QE2 docked here one day and asked her where he was. She said "in Penang sir", he said "yes, but what country is that in?" (How very Irish). It was obviously love at first sight and so they got married and had a child together. Debbie had a car accident in which her right arm was sliced off. She opened up an Irish bar here in Langkawi with Steven cooking the food. Six nights ago she caught Steven having a threesome with two of her customers. Whoa there Debbie, all we asked for was two pints of beer. Debbie is a chain-smoking, continually-drinking, one-armed, Muslim Wonder Woman and, naturally, we love her!

They still haven't got our door open and Matt's just realized that if we're stuck in here all day then they won't be able to bring us any food as Muslims can't buy food or drink during the daylight hours of Ramadan - as you can imagine we're finding the whole scenario hilarious.

Anyhow, apart from listening to Debbie's life story we've also had to endure endless hours of sunbathing, swimming in the sea, walks along the shore at sunset and laying under the stars at night, so to cheer ourselves up we've decided to go to a spa tomorrow and have a full-body massage, body scrub, body wrap, facial and a bath in milk and flowers - hopefully we'll feel relaxed after that.

I guess if you're reading this then you know we have been released from the hut. It appears they are taking an angle grinder to the lock now. Brilliant.

(The sparks fly)

(Dramatic reconstruction)