In January 2013, I was sent to Nepal for the weirdest of reasons: to write about conference facilities in Kathmandu. Yes, not exactly cutting edge reportage but whatever gets you there, right? I counted myself pretty lucky - I stayed in a plush hotel and by day, a couple of local guides took me around the Boudha Stupa (one of the holiest places in the world for Tibetan Buddhists) and Durbar Square  (pictured). Despite the mud tracks that sometime passed for roads in what is a capital city and the obvious disparity of wealth, it was hard not be charmed. There's a Monkey Temple. Who doesn't love monkey temples? Sociopaths, that's who. 

After almost a week (during which I'd also hopped over to Pokhara), I was desperate for some nightlife, and one evening, I headed to the expat neighbourhood of Thamel. After an astonishingly great Whiskey Sour in Maya Cocktail Bar, I wandered into a music venue, where some kids were playing feedback-heavy versions of 90s rock songs. I heard English voices across the table, introduced myself and was soon talking to, and trading shots with, Nicole Wick Thakuri. I found out that she was a Swiss national who had lived there for years, and ran an orphanage called Nawa Asha Ghira (NAG). As we said our goodnights, she asked if I'd like to see it the next day. It was too weird an offer to turn down. 

The next day, a rusty taxi lurched out into the suburbs, a side of the city outside the tourist bubble. My hangover was firing up nicely, and as we pulled up, I told the driver I wouldn't be long. Let's get this courtesy call over with and I'll be on my way. I wandered into the compound, dozens of children eyeing me, one of the older ones asking in perfect English if I needed help. I told her I was here to see Nicole and I was lead to an outlying building, the admin centre of the orphanage, where Nicole, with consumate timing, was making tea. 

I got the full story, unfettered by bad Nirvana covers in the background. Nicole had arrived here 20 years previously and started with 6 kids in her living room. Now there was a compound looking after hundreds of children who would otherwise live on the streets. Some lived here, some came for the day. If you're currently thinking that this woman is kind of amazing, then yes, you're right. I told Nicole I needed to tell the taxi driver I was going to be a while. 

Some of the older kids showed me round. They wore Manchester United shirts and were obsessed with football and music. It became clear that NAG was more than an orphanage. It was a legitimate school with trained teachers (and classrooms for everything from English to woodwork), it was a sporting academy (their basketball team was currently dominating the local kids' league), it was a shelter and a food bank and a social life for the city's worst off. 

Only they didn't seem downtrodden. Economically, yes, but here was a genuinely loving and creative and nurturing environment that - thanks to Nicole's self-professed weakness of not being able to turn away any stray (cats included) - had, over two decades, grown into a functional lifeline for the capital's street children, forming bands and gaining skills and not living in the slums. 

As far as I know, Nicole and the children survived the earthquake and are making the best of things in trying conditions, taking in as many people as they can, offering their neighbours use of their mobile phone chargers and sleeping under makeshift tents. All being well, they'll recover and life will resume, but as with most disasters, the poorest are hit the hardest. It's not my story to tell. I just got to hang out for a day and feel the optimism. Now they need money. You can do that HERE. Kathmandu needs you to keep on being that House of New Hope. 

Wake up, sheeple...your government is controlling the weather AND ERGO your urges to buy spice pumpkin lattes that ultimately fund the Illuminati FROM THE SKIES. It's all in the chemtrails, maaaan. Think about it. Why WOULD planes just be emitting streaks of condensed water vapour when they COULD be dousing humankind in nefarious loopy juice to keep us buying Big Macs and hooked on Prozac. IT MAKES TOTAL SENSE WHY ARE SO SO BLIND AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE MELTING CAPABILITIES OF JET FUEL...

In case you missed it, our favourite April Fool's Day goof from the Czech Aviation Training Centre. 

This week saw the tenth anniversary of the death of legendary comedian Mitch Hedberg. Like all touring comics, he stayed in hotels a lot. Like all touring comics, it seeped into his material. Unlike all touring comics, most of his observations were funny: 

When I’m on my hotel elevator, I like to pretend that someone else’s floor is wrong. Like, if someone gets on and presses 3, I’m like “You’re on three? Hahahaha. Dude, I don’t think I can ride with you.”

I like the public hot tub at the hotels, the whirlpool. I like to go there when there’s a guy in there already and say “Hey, man, you mind if I join ya?” And he says “no.” Then I go and I turn the whirlpool heat up. Then I come by and I add some carrots and onions… then I say “Hey man, just simmer for awwww - I mean, sit there.”

I got a Do Not Disturb sign on my hotel door. It says Do Not Disturb. It’s time to go with DON’T disturb. iI’s been Do Not for too long. We need to embrace the contraction.

My hotel is haunted. I saw a sheet lying on the floor… must have been a ghost that had passed out.

I’m in my hotel room, my friend comes over, he says, “Can I use the phone?” I said, “Certainly,” he says “Do I have to dial 9?” “Yeah, especially if it’s in the number.”

My hotel doesn’t have a 13th floor because of superstition. But, c’mon man, people on the 14th floor, you know what floor you’re really on.

I can’t tell you what hotel I’m saying at, but there are two trees involved.

I write jokes for a living, man. See I sit in my hotel at night, I think of something that’s funny and then I go get a pen and I write it down. Or if the pen’s too far away, I have to convince myself that what I thought of ain’t funny.

I hate dreaming. Because when you wanna sleep, you wanna sleep. Dreaming is work, you know? Like, there I am, laying in my comfortable bed in my hotel room. It’s beautiful. Next thing you know, I have to build a go-kart with my ex landlord.