Fuck my luck

Bought my Missus a car for Xmas. Not a new one but better than what she had. I used to have a Lexus but I was paying £50 a week petrol and couldn't be asked anymore so bought a newish Rover that was cheap and cheerful. Three weeks ago we sold my Missus other car and with the cash that I've had reimbursed we shoved it all into a high interest jobbie which you cannot take the money out for God knows how long.
Today, my fucking car blew up. The cam belt has gone and it's going to cost an arm and a leg to repair. Worse still I now haven't got enough cash in my account to buy something else. And if that's not bad enough I now can't go to Paris to watch the Rugby if I repair it. And fuck me if where I work isn't so remote there isn't even a bus route that goes within a mile of the place. I swear my luck is poxed.
I was also hoping to be able to deposit some proper cash into a few Poker sites by the end of the month but that's now on the backburner as well.
I guess it's quite ironic how you can have several grand tied up in an account you can't touch and now have to scramble about to get your hands on a few hundred quid. Oh well, never really liked Paris that much anyway.
First time I ever had a gun pulled on me was in gay Paree. We were stood in a bar which was crammed and this guy is trying to sell us drugs. My mate tells him where to go and so he moves on to the next group and then another until he's back to us again. Finally he returns to us and I tell him to fuck off to which he pulls a revolver out. I would have taken a step back but it was so full in this place there was no where to go. Luckily my mate who plays second row blind sided him and knocked him clean out. Another mate bends down and picks the gun up and puts it in his jeans. We then carry on talking as if nothing has happened although everyone else in the bar was starting to give us a wide berth which was cool.
Definately not cool was the Dominican Republic. Went there twenty odd years ago. I think we were on the first chartered flight there from Britain. Place we stayed in was chocker with Prostitutes. Not bad for five scoundrels. After a week though it started to get a bit boring. Finally, my mate and I are in this bar and two girls come over and start chatting away. We immediately ask them if they are on the game. Not many places you can get away with your opening gambit being "are you a pro"? but the Dominican was one of them. Anyhow, they swear they aren't so we have a few drinks and then head off in a taxi to their gaff. My mate and his girl jump out and me and mine get dropped off around the corner at her bedsit. Five minutes later I'm sitting on the bed getting some oral relief when the door opens and my mate walks in. I knew we were in the shit when I spotted the pockets hanging out of his shorts in the universal "no money" language. The girl he's with walks in behind him followed by the biggest, meanest looking guy I've ever seen. He tells us in no uncertain terms that the only way we're fucking his bitches is if we pay for the pleasure. I look down at this girl and ask if she's a pro to which she replies in the affirmative. I look at my mate and tell him I have no money on me. Big mean guy goes beserk screaming in God knows what language. With this another guy walks in and says something to which big mean guy pulls a gun out. The other guy nonchantly pulls an even bigger gun out. The bird my mates with who is wearing a skirt the size of a belt and a vest pulls a gun from fuck knows where and the one I'm with reaches under the bed and pulls another gun. So there's six of us in a room the size of a microwave and four people are waving guns about and screaming at each other, my mate is standing slap bang in the middle of them with a "we're fucked" look on his face and I'm sat on a bed with my shorts around my ankles and my dick the size of an anorexic prawn, thinking "don't let me die like this".
The guy who's not big and mean reaches into his jacket and pulls a badge out and now I'm thinking "don't let me spend the next thirty years in a shithole prison for not paying a pro and being complicit in the murder of a copper".
Finally everyone calms down and the guy with the badge motions to me and my mate to go with him. I pull my shorts up and am out of there quicker than Usain Bolt on speed. We walk around a corner straight into the main street of shanty town central. Just when things couldn't get worse, they did.
I've seen some rough places but this one will live with me forever. I honestly thought I was going to get a bullet in the back of the head and rolled into a ditch to rot for the rest of eternity.
As we're walking up the middle of hell avenue my mate nudges me and nods toward a piece of six by four lying on the roadside. I'm thinking it's a bad idea but better to go down with a fight than roll over and die.
Five yards before we get to this lump of wood a bike pulls up alongside us and this kid asks if we want a ride. Ninety percent of the taxis were bikes when we were there. My mate jumps on and I'm stuck on the back. This kid roars off and I'm sat there with my hands over my ears so that I don't hear the gun being fired. Ten seconds later we're out of the shanty town and can see our hotel about two hundred yards away. We borrow some cash off the receptionist and pay the kid and hit the bar with a vengance. I can honestly say I've never drank so much, so quickly and not felt the slightest bit drunk.
Thinking back to that night, a blown cam belt doesn't sound so bad now.
Later.