Having spent the last couple of weeks bumbing around Malaysia and Singapore I've developed a theory that no matter where you are in the world you are never more than five minutes from the English Premier League. And by English Premier League I mean Liverpool, Manchester United, Arsenal, Chelsea and to a lesser extent Spurs and Man City. And by reference I usually mean ' market stall selling dodgy shirts for £3'.
Surely the beautiful Malaysian island of Pulau Langkawi, with its unending unspoilt golden beaches and forest covered mountains would offer some respite from the Premier League.
Course it bloody didn't.
Less than the length of a Radhi Jaidi hoof up to Kevin Davies away from the beach above was this bar. *shudder*
Definitely not the most welcoming looking bar in Pulau Langkawi, foregoing beach views for those of a main road and and a bit of wasteland (giving it that grim northern Phoenix Nights feel) but it seems to be the one thing I photographed the most whilst there. Well, almost.
I'd like to think the bar was run by a large man with a tan the same colour as a coconut full of Bisto who sat on the roof of the bar for the first half of the evening, dictating orders to a mix of military trained bar staff consisting of local workhorse staff and elderly exotic sounding foreigners through a headset microphone before entering the bar to the second half of the evening and frantically chewing gum as the bar staff sought to maintain the profits they had generated in the first half of the evening.