Doctor Muck’s Holiday Blag Friday 10th June 2011

Friday 10th June

For the first time this week we woke up to glorious sunshine, and even at 9am it was scorching outside. Until now it’s been overcast in the mornings, brightening up later on, and cool in the evenings. The forecast is for things to hot right up in the coming days, which is excellent news, however I’m not sure how much I’ll want to go running if the humidity increases too. So far I’ve run three times, and have worked out a nice circuit of about 8km, through town and out past the marina. Normally by this stage of a holiday I’ll have gorged so much that I’m forced to ditch my mankini for a muumuu, but so far I think my fat neutral holiday is on target because the mankini is hardly cutting into my crack at all at the moment- a sure sign of when I start chubbing up. It’s uncomfortable I tell you.

The plan today is to chill on the terrace and beach, then head out a bit later than normal, to check out the Palace club which opens at midnight. You know, case the joint, give it the once over, have a shufty. Even if I don’t get a set there it’s about time we saw if Lagos has any life at night at all, and it is the weekend after all. As Mrs Muck put it we’re going into town “to see if it’s got a pulse.” I’m just worried that this place flatlined a long time ago… 

Goddamit, I don’t need Ibiza but without a little slamming house music in the evenings I’m starting to twitch a bit, and my doctor said that’s never a good sign. He told me to double my medication if it starts up again, so I’m double dropping everything just to make sure. From coffee to wine to those suspicious diet pills Sandy’s been handing out this week I’m quaffing twice the recommended dose. The combination of a stimulant overdose with too many of Fifi’s Valium seems to have evened itself out and I feel totally sober. I knew it would work- I’m a doctor too remember.

We’ve just left the terrace to come down to the beach, which we haven’t done for a couple of days because of the sheer comfort of our balcony, with sun, music and refreshment on constant tap. I’m glad we have though because the beach is full of slim, scantily clad young ladies. When did they arrive?! It looks like a Lynx advert and I’ve had to put the sunglasses on to perv unnoticed. I couldnt help but notice that Mrs Muck, Mandy and Fifi also put their sunglasses on. Interesting. 

Handy snorted in derision and headed off to the bar, while Sandy  has perched himself on the edge of a sunlounger next to a group of ropey orange girls, accents already thick with drink, and it’s still not even lunchtime. Easy prey for Sandy. I should really warn them but their loss is most definitely our gain, as any time away from the twins is good time. I can overhear snatches of conversation carried on the breeze from the group, with Sandy’s rasping sneers and laughs reaching my ears, and the jangle of his bling chiming like warning bells, if only people would listen. He’s trading on the good Muck FM name again, using it for his own immoral purposes. He’s name dropping too, and I can see the impressed looks on the naive faces as he reels off JP’s name, along with tales of hanging out with Ray Von and Ecaked. He’s shameless, he really is, and not once have I heard him mention me, which sticks in the craw a bit after I took him in after his crack-snack-and-blackjack addiction and nursed him back to health, when everyone else (including Handy) told me I was mad, and that putting him down would be the kindest thing to do. Trouble has followed him around from the start, and it’s only that he knows some compromising details about me that he’s still around, surfing the blackmail wave, and having a bloody good time at my expense. After everything I’ve done for him! If I’m going to contemplate getting rid of him I may have to file for a super injunction, and I don’t really fancy my chances against the Twitter brigade if I’m honest. So it looks like my purgatory is set to continue indefinitely. Will I never be set free from the never ending parties, the endless supply of questionable substances and the stream of cheap, moral free starstruck women just out for a piece of Muck FM ass?  

Now I think about it he’s not such a bad egg really…

Sandy! Sandy! Fancy a drink old friend? Oh hi girls, I’m Doctor Muck, how you doing…


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