Fuck Off Blafus

It was pissing it down. Again. After a 4 hour bus journey we rocked up in a very damp Vilnius. Our first CouchSurfing experience - with a wacky Lithuanian called Teresa - was in store and we were trepidatious to say the least. Teresa and I had been in cahoots previously so I vaguely knew what to expect. I were wrong.

After wandering around the Old Town for no apparent reason I plucked up the balls to call her and find out where we were staying. A fruitless phone call was ended with her saying "I SMS you". Sure. *Gerald's having a sip of his tea so i'll write this bit* We decided against Teresa's advice to get several farcically complicated buses to her 'house' and instead got the most overpriced taxi since that one what Tom Cruise got in 'Collateral'. We pulled up outside a block of flats more suiting Fyodor Dostoevsky (born 1821, died 1881) than the little lost boys, and climbed into the greyest of grey grey greyness. *He's finished the longest sip of tea ever. He's back*

Hi. The coming paragraph may be the toughest, most arduous piece of writing I will ever have to endure. Nothing is exaggerated and all profanities are entirely justified. You weren't there man, you weren't there...

I rang the doorbell tentatively, palms sweating and a bit of wee leaking down my trembling thighs. The others stood behind me, for shelter from the inevitable. Shhh, I hear something scrabbling behind the door. The handle turned. As the door opened my navel was wrenched from this mortal coil by a stench so bad it permeated every happy memory and dream I ever wished to hold on to. It smelt really fucking bad. It seeped into our skin, covering us in a film of detritus, so repugnant that breathing became something of an ordeal. It was thick, and stale, and like a mass grave of rotting, mutating canines. It was a dog. Called Blafus.

He was pleased to see us, unfortunately, demonstrative by his relentlessly gushing urine and his need to jump up and sniff us. How he could smell anything other than his own hell-scent was beyond me, but he didn't half try. He wasn't alone in the apartment of course, being held back by a blonde with a face reminescent of someone who'd swallowed a magnet and then feasted on utensils. The kind of girl Ben Hughes would drive to Wolverhampton for. This was Juste, Teresa's roomie. Teresa showed us her room, where we would all be staying, and then went to tidy the flat with Juste, leaving Blafus to bully us for 20 minutes or so. Doug managed to get him all riled up and he bit everyone a bit. Eventually we confined ourselves to a small balcony - the one safe haven of the flat; fresh air and no Blafus - with a door and window, Blafus eager and unrelenting on the other side of the glass. And Doug knocked over a dildo. Who leaves a dildo out? Teresa does.

The girls were ready to go out a while later, so we headed into town. Fresh air never tasted so good. Vilnius was cool, but not quite up to the standards of previous cities. The rain didn't help either. We went to a massive rustic restaurant, with a real live tree in the middle, serving traditional cuisine - and massive beers - and filled up on meat, potato and yeast. Man U were on so we found a place to watch the game and drink until the prospect of returning to The Seventh Circle of Hell, ruled by the Dark Lord Blafus, became possible.

United won and it was time for a local bar, off the beaten track and frequented only by locals. It was dark, subterranean, full of car seats and trinkets. The barman was relaxed and the booze was dirt cheap. We got to know the girls we were to be staying with and also chatted to other locals, with Doug chopping some wood with an axe to keep the central fire burning well into the early hours. There was no bell to signify last orders. 'Twas a real late'un.

We awoke late on a carpet that smelled so bad you could tatse Blafus. One could only imagine what he had been up to while we were out, scheming and plotting and fouling and chewing. Lo and behold Walshe found his book - the cinematographer's Bible - torn and bruised and upset and wishing Doug had put it in his bag and done up the zip. No sign of Blafus so we crept out, hungover, to scavenge for food. We happened upon a wonderful place, that smelled nice, called Pizza Jazz. We were seated in a restaurant that was designed like a Boeing 747, with staff dressed as air stewards. Cool. I ordered a Large, condemned by the others, and they ordered Regular. The Regular was a Small. I win.

We swaggered, sweating, into central Vilnius and climbed a hill with a tower at it's peak. Doug did a handstand in a window arch and was chastised by a sour-faced official. Enough culture for one day, lets go to the movies. Doug and I watched 'X-Men Origins - Wolverine' and Mike and Monty watched 'I Love You, Man'. 6 out of 10 respectively, but at least we weren't breathing in Blafus.

We popped back to see the girls, with the intention of getting the fuck outta there ASAP. Juste wanted to join us at the footy so we waited. We waited some more. We fended off Blafus. We waited some more. After a good hour we were out, already missing the first half and inhaling Blafus. And it was raining cats and dogs. At least they didn't smell like Blafus.

After an hilarious game - INIESTA!!! - we stopped off for some pool in a karaoke bar and then returned once more to the cool, subterranean bar. Freak Bar was it's name. Pretty much same again, but this time with more locals and a less booze. And far less sleep. The place just does not close.

When we awoke once more we just did one. No sign of Blafus, Juste or Teresa. But boy did it stink. We simply had to leave. Didn't even leave a note. We dropped our bags off at the bus station and spent a lovely day in Vilnius and its clean, pleasant, breathable oxygen. Monty and Arms went to the genocide museum, for a laugh, while Walshe and I got fed and watered. We had a quick stroll around a cool, self-contained community of Trinity-esque people - artists, theorists, drunks - with their own Constitution, then had another pizza and did a big old quiz. Next was an epic bus ride to Warsaw...