Ever since the innocent arrival of Boonie at 25 Carlton Street in late 2005, I've felt an unexplainable urge to play ping pong, eat Monte Carlos and drink 52 cans on a plane.

I was also troubled with a strange desire to travel... to see the world through my own eyes, and to experience the things I had previously only read or dreamed about. Boonanza officially gripped it's plastic claws around my neck at Changi airport, when I realised with a faint glimmer of shock that I wasn't travelling alone.

Shit, was that Boonie making small talk with the Texan in the big hat?

A strange twist of fate had flung Boonie and I together for the road trip of a lifetime. We agreed on some ground rules; I wasn't to lock him in luggage lockers for more than 12 hours and he wasn't to shout out for his tea-break in public, and with a nervous truce called we set off into the sunset (...airport waiting lounge).

So join us - we promise to leave no stone unturned. Or is that no turn unstoned? I can never remember...

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