It was about 1:00am UK time when I was awoken from my slumber by a guitar riff. Us millennials may be familiar with the same riff from the Trick Daddy track “Lets Go.” This however was Ozzy Osbournes Crazy Train, the dedicated ringtone I had assigned to Crazy Uncle George. I answered the phone still half asleep to an excitable voice on the other end.

“Hey kid, how do you feel about an all expenses paid trip to South America, Luci and I are hitting Europe.”

[Ok. Hold the bus. Let’s pause for a second. I should probably introduce Crazy Uncle George before I go any further. Uncle George used to live 10 minutes down the road from me with his wife Sarah. Sarah was a narcissist. The narcissists narcissist, moody, whiney and an all-around cold-hearted bitch. George; great guy, funny, charming, would have given Sarah his last penny. One day George had put up with the last mood swing from Sarah and disappeared off the face of this earth. This guy didn’t ghost his wife, he ghosted his entire existence. Rumours went around that he’d moved to America or died while hunting Rhino-poachers in South Africa. Nobody knew. That was until he sent us a picture of him with his new wife Luciana in Colombia. Turns out he’d travelled South America, fell in love and settled in Medellin where he set up his own property business, renting out condos. Now, let’s rewind. Back to the story.]

“Hey kid, how do you feel about an all expenses paid trip to South America, Luci and I are hitting Europe.”

“What the fuck George, its 1 in the morning here.”

“I know kid, that’s why I’m phoning you now before it gets too late! What’dya say? I need someone to look after my business while I’m gone!”

“I thought you had agents for that type of shit” I groaned, wanting nothing more than to get back to sleep.

“Yeahhhhh, but I need someone to look after my house too” he goes on enthusiastically. George’s energy levels were always dialled up to 10.

“I thought you had a maid for that type of shit?”

“Yeahhh but….”

Uncle George had two beautiful rottweiler guard dogs Rosie and Roxy who were probably only capable of smothering a would be intruder to death with face kisses. He was too embarrassed to admit it but he didn’t like leaving his girls alone with people who were not family.

“Ok George, I’ll come and look after the dogs” I sighed.

“See, I always said you were my favourite nephew!”

I was his only nephew.

I had less than a week to prepare and break the news to my boss that I had to take leave at short notice to go babysit a couple of overgrown puppies, 5000 miles away.

“A family emergency boss.” Vague. Not entirely untrue. Kinda.

The next night I loaded up old faithful, Tinder, and started a sub***********ion that allowed me swipe in Medellin in the hope of finding some company while I was there. I done a load of swipes, thought nothing of it and went to bed. By the time I woke up I had a whole load of matches, and over the next few days they were landing as frequently as the planes at Heathrow. It felt like everytime I looked at my phone it had a notification from Tinder. This was different gravy to Tindering in the Western World. I had more variety to choose from than a cinema Pick ‘n’ Mix. Sweet fluffy marshmallows, delicious golden caramel and a whole bunch of Hot Tamales. Luckily, I swiped left on a couple of rogue Fizzy Balls that had found their way amongst the pink bon bons.