Need good advice for your latest travel? Hear the bang of the Travel Gavel! Send your questions to the Travel Judge, who will deliver a sound verdict on all your travels.

Hello I have to go to England but I am afraid of boats and plains. How do you drive to england and how far is it. I have to go to London. I have to go their for  a wedding.

All Rise!

Here Come the Judge… The Travel Gavel Answers All Your Travel Queries. “Don’t Let Not Knowing ‘Trip’ Up Your ‘Trip’—Ask the Travel Gavel”


First, I suggest you take a visit to your local spelling clinic and get 20 ccs of knowledge–stat! It is one of my pet peeves, this lack of spelling acumen endemic to so much of your generation. In my days as a judge at the Whipperwillow District Courthouse, I was notorious for overturning verdicts as a result of a spellingly-challenged foreperson. I have let rapists and pederasts walk free due to a simple typo, so do not think for a second that I will deign to give advice to a person such as you who lacks even the slightest degree of spelling expertise.

Nevertheless, my new contract with the Shinley Newspaper and Carnival Supply Corporation means that I indeed I must give advice to you. So, England. Land of Dickens, of Shakespeare, of Attenborough and Humphries. A glorious country. I frequently lie back and think of England when I am in a sticky situation. It is a calming little island paradise. A fantastic choice for a vacation!

Take the QEW East towards Halifax until you reach the cliffs of Filpot. Rear your vehicle back, like you are taming a great jungle beast with a rope around its neck. Now, let the beast forth. Remove your foot from the brake and press deeply upon the gas pedal. There is a slight upwards turn at the lip of the cliff that should propel you a good enough distance so you shall land upon the newly-constructed 1978 Edmonton Alberta Commonwealth Games Memorial Bridge. That shall take you all the way to England, and to your relaxed days on the beach. Order yourself a frothy ale, for you have earned it. (NB: the bridge is underwater, so do not be alarmed if your car starts to fill up with salt-water liquid, you’ll be in “England” soon!)

One last note: In England it is the custom to dress head-to-toe in the fur of an animal that you have recently hunted and killed yourself. It is an olde English custom, a relic of the feudal era and said to be representative of the wedding arrangement itself between a man and a woman. A man hunts a woman in the wilds of the social forest. He catches her, slits her throat, skins her, then wears her to fashionable occasions around town.

G’Day Mate!

Travel Time: 2 days, 389 hours.
Approx Cost: $1800 if using regular petrol.

Dear Travel Gavel,

I am looking for a place to propose to my fiance at. I would like it to be a place that has never been seen or touched by human eyes or feet before. Where can I find one of these? My ideal would be an island, because I am planning on faking a plane crash, building a raft out of my old suitcase, then having us float to this mysterious island with a large volcano. After we fight off the natives, I will push my fiance into the volcano. She’ll be so worried, thinking that I am killing her. But actually, I have filled the volcavern with pillows and on that pillow is the ring. I think she will say yes.

Where can I find this place?

PS Love your column.

Here Come the Judge… The Travel Gavel Answers All Your Travel Queries. “Don’t Let Not Knowing ‘Trip’ Up Your ‘Trip’—Ask the Travel Gavel”

Why must my column be over-riddled with irrelevant questions, when I have thrice been convicted of possession of unlawful amounts of travel knowledge? I feel as though my expertise is being abused by thrill-seekers and willy-washers.

Randy, your wish to visit a place that has never been visited by human eye or feet is as asinine as it is paradoxical. If no human had ever been there, how could I possibly recommend it? Perhaps I must remind you that the “Travel Gavel” is a mere monicker of mine, I am in fact a human answering your questions, not some inanimate mallet-stick. A recommendation for an island which no human has visited before? Think for a second about what you are asking. It makes no sense. You confuse your position further by stating that you will have to “fight off the natives.” Randy, Natives are people! I cannot use the “Travel Gavel” to hammer home this point enough!  On my down-time, I occasion to send out leaflets reminding those of us with privilege of the bloodied history and sorrowful plight of the aborigines. (Read my latest pamplet: “In Forma Pauperis: The Wrongful Execution of the Red-Skinned Woodsfolk”.) Unfortunately your question has been rendered null and void on account of insufficient evidence to support your inquiry. The Gavel finds you guilty of lofty ambitions!

Having said this, there is one particular island that I could likely point you towards. It lies just off the coast of Guernsey, and as it situated in the ocean and thus water-locked; it is accessible only by boat, plane or helicopter. Its lush greenery and unique flora and fauna make it an ideal travel spot for anyone wishing to stage an elaborate marriage proposal. Natural fountains spout from mountain streams, and pools perfect for bathing or lounging. The water is crystal clean and especially drinkable–rich in vitamins. The local animals are delicious and can be caught and eaten without skill or weapons. No human being has ever been there or seen it.  The natives there are fierce, but easy to defeat. The island has no name, but it is located at Latitude: 49 30 N

If I could make an addendum, I must state that your dedication to older-fashioned chivalry is commendable, but I’m afraid you are misguided if you are operating under the impression that staging an elaborate plane crash will in any way successfully woo your sweetheart. Plane crashes (staged or real) are frightening for the fairer sex, and fear turns women frigid and dry. Better to sweep her off her feet and whisk her away to a an aged (and all wooden) cabin in the Hampshires, nestled somewhere between rolling hills and quiet moonlit meadows. Decorate the bed with an assortment of local flora, forage in the thicket for some kindling and turn your dustpan into a homemade fire’s place. (Women love when men prove their handiness by crafting makeshit hullabaloos). Make sure the fire’s level increases to a terrific roar, as small fires are as unimpressive to the ladyfolk as small male appendages. In order to set the perfect mood, douse the entire room in scented oils. Make sure you apply a generous coating of the the oils to all walls and floors of the room: the smells of the oils will act as the ultimate aphrodisiac. At this point you will be ready to become cordial with your lover. Place her on the bed and do as you will with her, you will soon find that something has really sparked as your love begins to kindle. You will find that the oils will fuel your burning passion until it creates a heat that seems unbearable–worry not, it is only the heat of a love that is incendiary. Stay focused on the task at hand–marriage proposals take a lot of work– and you will soon be engulfed by a calm and permanent bliss.

As a second addendum, I must use the Gavel to hammer home the point that I am unimpressed with these questions that do nothing but waste my time and expertise. Driving to England? An Island that has never been seen or touched? Why is it that I get assigned to cases that could be resolved by consulting a Time Out Guidebook, a Lonely Planet televisual program or, for that matter, Jeeves? My expertise is untested, with no one asking me about the best place to eat Sobka kourma plov in Azerbaijan, the loveliest undiscovered beach resorts on the Montenegran rivieria, the quietest monks in Lhasa, or the safest place to dump a body in the Yangtze. I sentence you all to an hour of thinking everything through before sending me another trivial and ill-suited inquest!

Your Travelliest Gavel,
The Judge

Hey man,
I was wondering if you knew of any good places to get Sobka kourma plov in Azerbaijan?
Tweet @ me

Finally a question that I am eager to answer!

Yet, the form your question was posed in has me in a huff. This new-fangled tweeting mechanism is something I intend to stand far, far apart from. Your question is oh, quite a good one, and right up my laneway, but, alas! You are Helen Mirren supine under a garden canopy, the wind softly blowing your vaginal hairs. I move closer to you—the hairs stand on end, at attention like General Wolfe’s men at the Plains of Abraham. My lips press into your flesh, puckering, moving through the thicket of brambly hair towards the delightful wonder beneath.

But egads! There is an appendage of the male species hidden beneath this female garden grove! What hove! Tarnation, thou hast spoiled yet another of my eves under the moonlight.

If you cannot decipher it for yourself, I am being quite metaphoric right now. As a judge I was routinely praised for my scathing and contemplative metaphors written into my verdicts (Once, I compared a murder suicide of a cheating spouse to the way it must feel to be bedding a dying Vanessa Redgrave and finding a male appendage between her legs instead of the desired femalic pillow. You are sad for the death, yet you are also shocked and betrayed by this new discovery). You have disappointed me, “Peece.”

Yet, I remain tied contractually to answering your questions. I shall march on. I shall play the violin on this sinking Titanic. Play on, play on! Let the music reach the heights of the Hindenberg!

The best Sobka kourma plov in Azerbaijan is at the Denny’s on the corner of Iskalk Rd and Dufresssniak Boulevard in the old city of Fring.

Warm Regards,



One response to “Need good advice for your latest travel? Hear the bang of the Travel Gavel! Send your questions to the Travel Judge, who will deliver a sound verdict on all your travels.

  1. funny and informative! great stuff!

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