VIDEO: Last Exit To Serbia! (2007)

In the summer of 2007, myself and Stanley "Stan" Stanrydt, two grown men with the mentality of 13 year olds, set out on an epic journey across the heart of Europe in search of music, beer, broads and a decent sausage. In a Mazda sportscar we christened 'Traci Lords' (she was underage but could still squeeze us both in), we shot through France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Slovenia and Croatia in order to arrive in Novi Sad, Serbia, for the rather epic Exit Music Festival, held in an ancient fort on the Danube river. There we watched the likes of the Beastie Boys and many other bands that I vaguely don't remember. After four days of drunken debauchery, we sobered up and decided to take the long way round back to the UK. So we went to Sarajevo and Mostar in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Dubrovnik…

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Day 402: Don’t Stop Believin’

06.02.10: The last two blogs aren't true. I just made them up. Sorry, it would have ruined the surprise. Here's what really happened... When I was in Cyprus last Tuesday, I discovered that it would take two weeks from the date of application for my visa for my next country (Libya) to come through. I had not been made aware of this earlier (annoyingly enough) – I thought I was just going to pick it up at the border. This meant that no matter what I did in the next couple of weeks, I couldn't continue with my journey. I might as well pick up the visas for Libya, Algeria and Central Asia from London myself. I might as well... Why the hell not, eh? It's still part of the journey, it's still in the spirit of The Odyssey; I can't enter the kingdom of the…

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Day 119: Carlos The Jackal

29.04.09: After all the excitement of yesterday, I slept like a baby. By that, I mean that I woke up every two hours and started screaming. Although my laptop and camcorder were safely by my side on the train to Budapest, the charger for my camcorder and my spare battery were not. And I had about 20 minutes left of power. This would not last until next Sunday. It would not last until the end of today. I arrived in Bucharest around lunchtime and headed to the coach station. A political rally was taking place in the park between - I gave it a wide berth. I've never been one for mob mentality; I prefer to operate under the radar, subverting people's opinions by means of stealth, cunning and outright ridicule. The bus took me to the town of Galati on the border of Moldova and…

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Day 118: Er, Anyone seen my bag?

28.04.09: Today should have been a breeze - well timed connections marked my passage through Poland. My coach arrived half an hour early, so it wasn't even a rush to the station for the first train to Bratislava. I hopped on board - oh wow! It was one of those old fashioned ‘The-Lady-Vanishes'-type trains where you sit in sealed off compartments facing three strangers. Yey! Only I had two strangers, Iva and Monica, and they were the best kind of stranger - ie. Bubbly, lively ones with nice eyes who laugh at my jokes. Iva was from Croatia, but living in Vienna and Monica was from Poland. So I sat with my captive audience and entertained each other as we passed effortlessly through the Czech Republic on the way to Slovakia. I had just finished reading ‘White Tiger', the winner of last years Man Booker prize…

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