Global Hobo | Ibiza Deviated My Septum

Ibiza deviated my septum

Ibiza Deviated My Septum

I had always prided myself on being possibly the only person in the world who hadn’t done cocaine, but Ibiza deviated my septum! Originally, this was primarily due to stinginess rather than personal integrity; but even when complimentary, lovingly-cut lines were shoved in my face from a vial, I’d managed to maintain my virginal nostrils. Naturally, I felt like a martyr all the time. Given Australia’s love of overcharging its citizens for abso-fucking-lutely everything, coke averages at around $300/g. This means many of my friends will end up spending their weekly salaries just to get their hands on a bag or two. Some will use their cocaine-confidence to go where no player has ever gone in FIFA ’12. Others will stare possum-eyed around nightclubs, dashing to the ladies whenever Rack City Bitch comes on to “re-powder their noses”.

In basically every other country in the world, blow is roughly one-sixth the price of ours; unless you go to Cuba, where it’s more like one-hundredth. In the UK, it’s almost easier to obtain on a night out than a pint, though nightclubs have gross double standards depending on who you are. A number of clubs in London have manned their bathrooms with big momma bouncers to stop girls indulging in their favourite drunken hobby of entering cubicles in pairs. And just in case solo lavatory-goers think they can thwart the system and snort a cheeky line off the Hep-B riddled cisterns, the toilet doors are see-through, and the bouncers have no qualms with voyeurism. But, if you satisfy even the loosest definition of celebrity – for example, you write a jewellery blog or you once starred in an infomercial – nightclub staff will direct you to a discreet room specifically designated to facilitate your nasal activity, only drawing the line at rolling you a £100 bill.

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