Melbourne

After leaving tranquil Alice Springs, quite possibly one of the hottest places on Earth - well definitely the hottest place I've ever been to in my life, we were eager for a bit of cool club action, so were chomping at the bit to get to Melbourne. Alice had been lovely and relaxing for a few days, but as everyone tends to use it as a base for their outback tours there is a constant stream of tourists passing through and we didn't really have a chance to meet anyone after the end of our tour so were keen to meet some new faces and have a bit of a party.
Our hostel was right in the centre of the city and our first impressions were all good - buzzing atmosphere, swanky bars and clubs - a clean,cool nerve centre of activity.
We hurridly changed into our best togs (it was only 5pm but like I said, we were up for a big one) and went down to the hostel bar for a warm-up drink. After sinking a couple of cheap vinos we headed to Chapel Street, where we'd been reliably informed it was "all going to go off." Our spirits were dampened down slightly by the astronomical price of a couple of Mojitos (40 bucks,the equivalent of twenty quid), and we were sharply reminded that although we wanted to party like we would in London, we were a couple of travellers who are essentially unemployed until next March. Downer. Pushing that thought aside, we ploughed into the bevvies and found ourselves at The Social, a cool pre-club bar down the road. Chatting to a camp Scottish expat called Jason and his Aussie female friend, we soon got the party started and before we knew it we were winding and grinding on the dancefloor, limbs akimbo. The girl (can't remember her name) soon excused herself, realising it was about to get messy, yet Jason couldn't get enough of it. It's funny how when you're a bit worse for wear you just seem to be transported from bar to bar to club, without having actually physically moved anywhere, but that's exactly what happened and we were mysteriously teleported to a club called Revolver. Madness ensued. An English DJ called Greg Wilson (no I'd never heard of him either but the Aussies worshipped the ground he stomped on) was mixing up the tunes to a raucous crowd and before we knew it it was 8am.The party was showing no sign of stopping but I was feeling a little jaded by this point and in need of a powernap, so a lovely English guy called Adam suggested a few of us go back to his pad down the road. I'm not sure if the offer extended until Sunday night, but that's how long we stayed for anyway, sinking beers and talking nonsense.
Suddenly, at about 5.30pm. Liam and I remembered that we'd booked tickets to a show and dinner combo thingy at the Dracula comedy theatre in the city.A night of scary, spooky fun, it had promised. Hmmm, well we did resemble a couple of zombies after our 24hr bender, so we should fit right in, we reasoned as we hurridly jumped into a taxi, holding our breath so the taxi driver wouldn't be over the legal driving limit from the alcohol fumes. Smelling like we'd been drinking meths, we rocked up at the theatre doors, to be greeted by a guy dressed up as Dracula. I think he thought we were taking the piss, seeing as the dark circles under our eyes made it look like we'd dressed up just like him for the occasion.
Once inside we were taken on a ghost train ride (just what you need, being jolted about and covered in fake cobwebs after a full night's session on the vodka) and then shown to our seats. Unfortunately for them, a young Aussie couple had chosen the exact same night and table for a romantic night out, the first since the birth of their young son.God knows what they thought when they were greeted by a couple of partied-out Brits,still wearing the clothes from the previous night.Seriously though, I don't think they cottoned on and probably just thought we were a couple of narcoleptics. The "comedy" show was pretty lame, all black lipstick and unfunny vampire jokes - we took it in turns to have little microsleeps between sketches. I dozed off against the wall a few times between courses, almost falling akip into my steak at one point. Well, it was dark in there and I don't think anyone noticed, except perhaps the Aussie girl I was mid-conversation with at the time.
Back at the ranch we slept like babies after our mammoth night-day-night session, but had to be up bright and early to pick up the campervan the next morning. That's when our problems REALLY began...