Rumblings of a marketing man on tour…

The dude from Vicar of Dibley would love it here. No this, no that, no, no, no, no (etc).

There are a lot of things forbidden in Singapore.

Chewing gum. Riding a bike along the bridge I was on. Crossing the road anywhere but where the little green man is…

I haven’t been here in a few years, but people do seem to be breaking laws where they previously wouldn’t, which I find interesting…

I decided to walk to China Town tonight. And did what I always do when I am in charge of the map.

Got completely lost.

I ended up wandering round what felt like the council estate rough end of China Town. Very friendly atmosphere, was a bit like Elephant and Castle.

Lots of high-rise tower blocks, some green space (all of which was covered in people eating, drinking, gossiping, the usual), and in this case, a lot of eateries thrown in.

I did get a few looks, but that’s par for the course. I love the tough old birds nobody with any sense would argue with…

I was well armed with the few Chinese sweary words I could remember, so I knew if nothing else, I could charm my way out of trouble…

Best part of the day.

Dirt cheap amazing food, friendly toothless locals. And I also bumped into a rather attractive Malaysian chap called Dave. Imagine my ex (the doctor), crossed with Gareth Gates. Stunningly beautiful, with a little bit of a stutter. Rather endearing to say the least.

I am pleased to report however I am back at base camp, ready to start the week fully refreshed, and not disgustingly hungover as I did today. Time for bed.

Nighty night from your man in Singapore…

Iain is ready for day three. And is somewhat glad he got lost in China Town

Forget Paris Hilton, this is my NBF...

Day two, and already I find myself in a world of pain…

So, last night, I end up bumping into a rather nice Welshman and his colleagues in SG’s ChinaTown. (SG, get me like a local after a day!).

They all worked in ‘aviation’.

It didn’t take much intelligence (given the amount of bleach, tan, and two for one cocktails being knocked back), to work out that their particular branch of aviation is usually described by us normal punters, as crew.

Or trolley dolly’s if you are being mean…

I used to be somewhat boastful about my ability to drink. But I have nothing on this lot.

There must be something about the cabin pressure that gives them the ability to drink like fish…

After a massive pub crawl, today I spend broken and most likely in bed. I may venture to the rooftop pool later when / if I feel up to it.

A nice relaxing (broken) Sunday, before all the work I have to do tomorrow…

Day two of Iain on tour sees him broken, shattered in tiny gin shaped pieces on the floor. He does however, have a new-found respect for the Welsh….