Free The Further Adventures of an Idiot Abroad by Karl Pilkington

chocolate-covered coffee or the chocolate-covered orange ones. In a way, it’s the equivalent to Russian roulette in the chocolate world. I got my cards out and tried to teach them the higher
or lower game.
    I didn’t have to sleep in third class in the end, as the guards moved me into second class after it started to kick off between some drunk Polish people and some Russians. I guess they
didn’t want us to film it. Second class was like first class without the velvet.
    I slept like a baby. When I say slept like a baby, I mean I was up all night. The toilets didn’t work. They were locked half an hour before getting into a station, but then some stations
were half an hour apart, which meant they were never open. They also have a rule that you can’t use the loo while at a station, as the toilet had a pedal that empties the loo straight onto
the track. I think they should allow you to use the loos while in the station because if human waste was all over the tracks it would stop kids messing about on them. Putting up signs saying
‘Danger’ doesn’t stop them, but if there was a chance of getting shit on their trainers I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be as keen to mess about on the lines.
    This sounds like the nicest train journey of all train journeys – passing impressive views whilst travelling in proper comfort – but I don’t think it
     would be as memorable as the Trans-Siberian because that was pretty grim, and bad memories seem to hang around in my head for longer and are a lot clearer than the happy ones. Maybe it’s
     because when I’m comfortable in a situation my mind thinks about other things, whereas if I’m not enjoying something I can’t think about anything else. So, if you want an
     unforgettable holiday, don’t bother with the Caribbean, go to Rhyl for a fortnight.
    The next morning Ricky called to tell me that it was 50 years since Yuri Gagarin became the first man in space. To celebrate he suggested I visit Star City, which is home to the Yuri Gagarin
Cosmonaut Training Centre. A teacher at my school said he waved to Yuri Gagarin when he visited Manchester in 1961 after his trip into space. He said Gagarin drove through Moss Side, which some
would say is more dangerous than travelling to outer space, and hundreds of people came out in the rain to show their appreciation. He said he was a true hero who had risked everything to make
history for his country. I remember not being that impressed at the time, as I knew monkeys had been launched into space before him. He was basically taking over a monkey’s job. How hard can
it have been? Plus, there was so much more that needed inventing back then. What was the rush to get to space? You know, we landed on the moon before someone thought about putting wheels on
suitcases!
    The teacher then asked us to write a story about doing an heroic act and the speech you would make afterwards. I made up a story in which I had one of my tonsils out to give to my brother. I
wrote that I couldn’t do a speech about how I felt about my heroicness afterwards as my throat hurt. The teacher wrote ‘Lazy’ in red pen.

    I wasn’t really interested in space when I was younger. It was something that was a big deal before my time. I liken it to how Benidorm was a popular place to go in the 1970s, then
Tenerife in the 1980s. Space was all the rage in the 1960s. Since Armstrong landed on the moon it seems everyone has lost interest after seeing there wasn’t much there.
    I got to Star City. There was a statue of Gagarin not far away from the apartment he used to live in. The head of the statue was good and looked like him, but the trousers were not so good.
Maybe this is why most statues are of naked bodies. Sculptors find it easier carving out a knob and bollocks than getting the creases in trousers to look real.
    I’m pretty impressed by the heads that have been carved into Mount Rushmore. More of this should be done. There’s loads of mountains