From Dahab to Damascus in five spliffs, two taxis, one bus and a kilo of kebab.
Not quite massive drugs, but in a fit of stupidity caused by a drought of smokables one winter, I managed to smuggle an ounce of the Sinai's finest bedu-grown into Syria. It turns out that a police-surplus overcoat is ideal for that sort of thing - that, and an absence of sniffer dogs.

(The kilo of kebab happened in some sort of roadside cafe between Aqaba and Amman. I was hungry.)
(Mr. W. K. Kellogg's Anusol Flakes (TM) is the other Special K, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 12:41, 2 replies)

So, your story is 'I got cunted and bought a kebab'?

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 13:00, closed)

Yep.
I could regale you with the tale of how I invented one-third of the Cunted Olympics triathlon - where one forms a triskelion using nothing but a trampoline and simultaneous loss of control over the three major bodily orifices mid-somersault - but I won't, because it's far more exciting than any of my MASSIVE DRUGS stories, and therefore untrue.

Also, dry-cleaning a competition trampoline isn't cheap.
(Mr. W. K. Kellogg's Anusol Flakes (TM) is the other Special K, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 16:39, closed)