Blame Anthony Bourdain

I do. Each of my teeth has its own separate hangover. That third martini must have been spiked. I recall jauntily launching myself downhill on the road to my hotel - alone for some reason - when a taxi driver took pity on me and bundled my sorry excuse for a body into his car for God knows how much money.

I also recall hugging the band's guitarist like he was my long lost (Balinese) brother, but I also told the singer she should wear high heels. This was later (how much later, I can't tell you) at a completely empty club I recollect as being called IngSoc, but that maybe due to us talking Orwellian Newspeak earlier in the day. I am feeling double plus ungood currently. We toasted the late great Keith Floyd, goddam him.

My head says eat, but my stomach says no fucking way.

There's a sign on the wall (but you've got to be sure) about Bourdain claiming Nury's BBQ place (candlelit due to a rainstorm) to have the best martini on the planet. Unfortunately, Jeremy told us, this declaration never made it to his (Bourdain's, that is, Jeremy doesn't have one, but do I have his card) TV show. Meanwhile (or later, or earlier) I was explaining the indubitable (I think Adam tried to use that word first, but pronounced it "inbubblable" - he had commenced on the martinis before us) superiority of Frank Moorhouse's book on martinis as I sipped on my second vodkatini (is a vodka martini, strictly speaking, a martini?) when the rational world began to collapse around me. Is Ubud really a martini town, I kept asking no-one in particular.

Somehow, around 1am, I had survived thus far and wisely decided to repair to my hotel in order to repair, which has only partially succeeded thus far. I believe Daryl witnessed my return. He was sitting bemused in a chair in reception surrounded by fuzzy lizard creatures. I may be wrong in this.

~~~~~~~~~~~

This morning I shocked the gardener into silence by walking out naked to collect my swimming trunks which had been drying on the balcony.

Ungood.

How was your night?

E@L