My name is Bing Fraser, and I have a travelling problem. An addiction of sorts that has resulted in more damage than anyone should care to see in a lifetime. But as the saying goes: one man’s public calamity is another man’s treasure.
I was lucky enough to grow up in Sydney, Australia, from where I set off travelling as a bright-eyed and extremely ignorant 18-year-old. It was all I ever wanted to do with my life; until I came to realise the illusion of the grass is far greater than the colour.
I have learned this the hard way, as my travels have seen me arrested, held at gunpoint, lose my teeth, suffer a schizophrenic episode, crack my skull open (with the ensuing concussion lasting the better half of two years), get robbed more times than one could fathom, and greet death so many times, the Reaper is on my Christmas card list.
How does one person’s luck allow these things to happen? Well, as is the case with this website, I should come with a warning: I am the dictionary definition of a human wrecking-ball… that’s what people tell me anyway. I see myself more as a pursuer of all things “fun,” and sometimes there’s some collateral damage in such pursuits.
During these ventures, I’ve been called an a**hole, a c**ksucker and a c**t; and I’ve been called the most likeable person anyone could ever meet. I would like to think both sides of the coin hold true. I’m a conflicting personality; a product of the environment in which I grew up. I was raised well enough but socialised by some terrible, albeit very entertaining, people. When you mix the tight leash of a Catholic upbringing with the social environment of Satan’s affiliates, you’re only ever going to arrive at one outcome:
And if nothing else, I hope this outcome can bring a little entertainment into your life.