Hello world from the Mozzies in Mongazs,

I love you man.

Tonight we have been on a cut out party at a Mongolian Pub serving German food with Mongolian girls singing  Swedish songs whilst Pakistanian news was screened on the Chinese TV.

However, we were very sensible and decided not to attend Strings nightclub, for fear of seeing a Philipino cover band covering ‘Land Down Under’ for the benefit of ageing Australian mining men drinking their rum and cokes at the bar.

Instead, we decided to drunkenly blog. A sensible decision.

And, in this state with our heightened understanding of the world, we can categorically inform you that Mongolian countryside music on repeat is really not that enjoyable. At all. However, hearing ‘You aint nothing but a hound dog,’ our suggested replacement, is also not suitable for playing 10 squillion times at 3, 000, 000, 000 decibels in your left ear for 2 weeks straight. And, whilst we are not necessarily a fan of excessive amounts of animal lard, we would like to open a new franchise selling floating camel meat pies in airag syrup. We think it would be a winner, and potential investors can contact us via Ger number 3, next to the Ovoo with the 15 blue scarves and the horse skull and the goat leg and wooden crutch, Genghis Khan soum, Mongaz.

But wait, there’s more. Every new investor receives a free roll of sandpaper-like toilet paper for stuffing up their noses, a free ride in our new Timee Taxi (limitied time only), unlimited aril (the type that sticks to the roof of your mouth despite repeated attempts to remove it whilst maintaining a polite smile on the face), a free set of blue pants to tuck into their Russian riding boots AND various packets of instant noodles (Chinese brand).

But don’t send any money, we’ll bill you. We’ll also throw in a hideously uncomfortable Mongolian saddle, one large flask of weak Mongolian milk tea, a ridicously beautiful sunset (followed by a sandstorm that blows you to China), an endless desert steppe, a plate of fried noodles and lard that you can labouriously pick the fat out of of (and some of us do), more sandpaper toilet paper for ‘washing’ the dishes with, and a roll of ‘scotch’ masking tape for absolutely anything including taping your tent down during before-said sandstorms.

BUT! I beseech you! Send no money. Ring 008023025, that’s 008023025.

Za, za.

The Mozzies.

P. S.  Love ya mum.