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Welcome to the reincarnation of bankingcommish (travel edition). Today I’ll be taking aim at the sorts of self-ingratiating buttfucks that push gems of wisdom like the the one pictured into the world. You know the types, they generally wear coloured John Lennon style sunglasses and accost you in the kitchens of Eastern European hostels. They go to great pains to explain to you that they aren’t like other travellers; they’ve gotten the the real core of the communities they’ve visited and done away with the tourist nonsense that ‘amateur travellers’ (thar inference being that you’re one of these) occupy themselves with. They tell of amazing days spent with villagers in eastern Peru, drinking yak’s milk from a gourd made from the stomach of a goat while music played dizzyingly in the hills above…

They felt at that moment that the true meaning of life had momentarily revealed itself in all its ornate beauty. A single tear of joy streamed down their face in silent celebration.

What they neglected to mention was that all of the villagers thought they were an utter cunt and the gourd was full of goat’s piss…

The other great irony of this type of traveller is that even though they’re dressed in some of the most ill fitting, stinking, patently shitful opportunity shop seconds you’re ever likely to see someone in outside of a soup kitchen, they’re actually the offspring of incredibly wealthy parents who’ve gifted them absolutely everything in their life, literally right up until the point they’ve accosted you. There’s a certain cruelty in this incredibly entitled turd visiting dirt poor communities on the other side of the world in order to ‘find the true meaning of life’, whilst, back at home, mummy and daddy are sitting comfortably in their gigantic Victorian mansion in Surrey, alternating between swimming in their gigantic pool of money and snapping the necks of baby fur seals after waterboarding them one by one with crude oil they’ve dredged from their vast oilfields, also ironically located in Peru…

This traveller is never religious either. Well at least not formally religious. You can bet all the dead, oil-soaked baby fur seals in Surrey that they’re a ‘spiritual’ person though. This is a convenient mechanism to allow them to take elements of numerous religions and bastardise them to suit their own ends, trampling revered ancient traditions in order to build out their Instagram profile.

Nice Kabbalah wristband, you chinless fucking wonder.

/end (holiday) communication

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