4 + 2 FREE GRATIS
Amir Bazarbacha is my favourite ex-Foreign Legionnaire. Not only does he encourage me to continuously smoke strong cigarettes from the moment of wake up till each day is done, he has also decided to help take care of my finances by giving me a small allowance from my salary, and transferring whatever is left to pay off the interest on my ever growing pit of debt.
Friday morning took Amir from the Kenya to the Congo, leaving me with 7,000 shillings - about 50 quid - to last me in the Mara until I next get paid. This would have been fine if the sudden cut in nicotine after his departure hadn’t caused me to instead drink two mocha frappuchinos and a double latté in the space of one afternoon, which then sparked off a hyperactive mood with hints of sentimental regret over my imminent departure from Nairobi and led to a fourteen hour drinking binge with my hotel manager; that had started off in the relatively pleasant surroundings of the hotel pool, but by the time the sun was once more on its path the beers were being sunk and spilt in the dubious bars of downtown.
To my name I now have an expired credit card and just 1,300 shillings, which is not even a tenner, so last minute shopping this morning was limited to just the essentials: a disposable packet of razor blades.
Bic 3 and Bic Comfort
The Bic Comfort, both slender and muted in colour, I recently realised has a name that is intended for those sensitive areas, and as such is more appealing to, and designed for, the female shaver. So today I left the Bic Comfort and went for the Bic 3 instead which, as you can see, has both a stronger colour and a better robust handling than the Comfort, and says more about the type of man that I now am.
The Bic 3 and the Bic Comfort, tête à tête.
The Bic 3 has an aggresive shape compared to the Comfort, with an assorted number of grooves on each side of the handle as well as along the top, and is so designed for the over-sized, callus covered hands of the man who works and plays outdoors. The near neon orange colour serves the practical purpose of being easy to find with the darkest of hangovers, and also reflects both the youth and virility of a man who, as of tomorrow morning, lives in the wild African bush.
Well, that is as long as the hotel manager lets me leave the appartment tomorrow morning without me actually paying -hopefully he’ll remember fondly our friday night friendship and accept the promise of a soon to arrive cheque.
