Flicking through Ava Gina’s oestrogen-soaked musings, I am perennially disappointed by the passivity of the limp-wristed Lotharios who trot mutely behind her from nightclub to fetid lovenest. When I set out to match Ava’s tales of sloppily haphazard hanky-panky, my mind was cast inexorably back to a testosterone-addled week in Slanchev Bryag, Bulgaria (a resort much like Shagaluf, but without the charm or sophistication). The chants of my schoolmates still ring in my ears: “Lads! Lads! We are the Lads! We are the rigidly-enforced heteronormative stereotypes on tour!”
Slanchev Bryag is populated by musclebound Ukrainian playboys with radioactive permatans, so the pickings were slim for a young man of my affable demeanour and negligible biceps. Moustachioed and heavily-tattooed Bulgarian women sporadically loomed out of the shadows to suggestively offer me a massage, but I resisted their sultry Eastern delights. Instead, persistent canoodling over lurid orange pitchers of methylated spirits won me the romantic attentions of flaxen-haired maiden the shape and consistency of a Bavarian dumpling.
We retired to my opulent suite in Yassen’s Budget Holiday Hostel to make woohoo until the sun rose – or at least, until a voice came floating from the lower recesses of the bed. “Sorry to bother you, mate, but you’re having sex on my ankles.” So I gallantly suggested we retire to the aphrodisiacal surroundings of the communal bathroom. I can only assume that “ja, whatever” is German for “but of course! How splendidly thoughtful of you”, as we soon resumed our continental bonk-fest with aplomb.
“Harder. Harder!” my Bavarian boo demanded with Teutonic efficiency. As a gentleman, I was honour-bound to comply. I grasped at the shower rail to steady myself for a final onslaught on the Southern Front, and was perturbed to feel it come away in my hand. Rail, shower and the surrounding masonry thundered around us as we fell to the ground. My shame-faced Fräulein beat a hasty retreat, followed by a billowing cloud of asbestos and indecipherably foul utterances. I had a wank in the sink and went to bed.