Contiki Tours are a great way to travel if you measure your experience in total litres of bodily fluids sprayed across the arse and tits of culture.

Sebastian is a lucky boy. He is off on his first parental-funded Contiki tour. Some may call it a gift and some may say he needs to lay low after he ran down that Joondalup kid in the Clubba car park.

On his first-class flight to London he banters with the collection of Linkedin profile pics who he calls friends. “We’re going to smash a chick from every country lads, yeh the boys!” A sentiment as reassuring to parents as Brock Turner in a lifeguard shirt.

While in Paris, Sebastian spots a group of girls who wouldn’t look out of place chundering on the tire of a Pink Stretch Hummer in the Swan Valley. Their hyena-like cackling sends shivers down the baguette of the French bottle shop attendant, “does this one taste like goon or nah, mate?”

Now, as Contiki is all about ticking cities off your superficial wander-list, Sebastian only has 1 night to seal the deal. So he invites the girls back to his backpackers for some ladsy Jagerbombs and a bro-mantic walk down to the Eiffel Tour.

Upon arrival, Sebastian’s stomach gives up like Nick Kyrgios’ dick during a 6am dexie-fueled pooning, and he unleashes chunks all over the revered French landmark. The way he makes Australians look like fuckwits abroad is hotter than the time he chucked a slash on the Colosseum. “You are such a lord Seb.”

The remaining 4 weeks play out as expected, and by the end of the trip, he has avoided having a meaningful conversation with a single European local. Fuck that shit, he has forged lifelong bonds with a group of Aussies that he will probably never see again. I think you can see who the real winner is.

Back home, he stares at a friend drinking a coffee. “I could never drink Aussie crap again, I’ve had espresso on the Riviera” (Starbucks at the airport*). His pretentiousness is ignored as he launches into a story of how most travellers wouldn’t have the balls to walk the streets of Krakow on a pre-organised 2-hour tour like he did.

On his way home he walks past Flight Centre and sees a special to Bali. He turns to his mate, “um that awkward moment when you think Bali is a real international holiday”.

Sebastian really is the reason that most Australians were at peace with the prospect of the Budgie 9 copping a little bit of a whipping.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?

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