We came. We saw. We left.

Steptoe

What a waste.
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We came. We saw. We left.


This story is based on actual events. And some identities have been altered to protect the feckwits amongst us.


The date was set. It was to be a three pronged attack into northern France.
Think of the map shown at the begining of every "Dads Army" episode. And then think of the cast.

Easy enough to match up the cast members to the attendees. Daveg. JA Dave. Twizzle. Gypsy. Steptoe. Codcutter. Melch. Att. Tricky. Oblertone. Pingu.

You get the idea. Hit the beaches early on thurday 9th may after an overnight start from the UK.

Prong1; An early mass assault of confused and hungary oafs and idiots hitting the docks at Caen.
Prong 2; A lone lazy bastard foray into St Malo.
Prong 3) No water crossing involved. Crafty feckers, they've dug an underground tunnel and will blitz into Calais.

The days objective...... Chez Twizzle. Location - Plessala. A one horse town without a horse.

Seeing as it's France, land of shite food, JA dave has loaded the supplies for the nights meal in his panniers, his sister Dolly had made some lovely cucumber sandwiches (crusts cut off).

I was the lone bastard, with a 50 mile ride to Chez Twiz.
Mission - get to the house, then pop to the local shop to stock up on supplies as the 10th May was a Johnny (bank) halliday.

Arrived at 1015hrs. Picked the best bed and unpacked the bike.

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Headed off to town, two minutes away.
Bought wisely, and loaded up the bike with all the constituents of a well balanced diet.
Safely deposited in the fridge.

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I put the kettle on, had a hobnob, minced about the house in twizzles wifes clothes....... then had a long nap on the sofa while i waited.


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The second prong arrived during the afternoon, in a great deal of noise, confusion and the early signs of senility.

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They'd had to stop many, many times unroute to re-supply their diminishing stomach contents.

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Did i mention they had to stop many times ?
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The house was now homely, and JA dave set about preparing the evening meal while tales were told concerning the usual old bollox and mirth. And the beer was put to use.

The tunnel duo arrived late afternoon. Wild eyed and busting for a piss. Which set a theme for the next three days.
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Evening turned into night, and as the day grew longer so did the stories and the line of empties.

I was in a room with oblertone and att. Att had his electrical breathing apparatus with him, which meant he wouldn't be snoring and keeping everyone awake.

Oblertone and i were in bed while att was still talking bollox downstairs until the early hours, which was strange, as everyone else had gone to bed sometime earlier.
When Att finally made it to bed he needed to plug his iron lung into an electrical socket so he could sleep soundly and not wake everyone up.
Unfortunately, the noise, cursing and scratching of trying to insert a two pin french plug into a wall socket in pitch darkness in strange surroundings while pissed woke everyone up.

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Never mind, revenge was gained early the next morning. Involving, a blind, sunlight and att in deep contented slumber..

A hearty breakfast was cooked the following morning while Twizzle did the croissant/pain aux raisin run to the local boulangerie.
Plans were made, bowels were emptied and the sun was out. A destination nonchalantly plucked from a map.
We were riding to the coast, for something to eat.

So, off we set. After about 45 minutes of false starts due to forgetfulness and of what's needed on a day out i.e. money, bike keys, crashelmets, trousers, petrol.... As they say in france, nouvelle vague.

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Nice roads

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Then the road turned treacherous, every now and again a bend appeared.

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This caused great consternation amongst all the hard riding mofos.

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A quick conflab was called and an alternative route was searched for, but alas, no motorways could be found for the 35 mile route.
So being hard arsed sons of the soil, and being in france, we took a leaf from Sartre and decided "existence precedes essence"

On arrival great care was taken choosing a restaurant. Basically the nearest to the bike park.

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The usual procedure was adhered to upon parking . Forgetting stuff, checking stuff, doing stuff, needing a pee stuff.

In the next episode, Melch nearly explodes : Att clacks his pants with joy after seeing a red car: Twizzle has a vacuum problem: Oblertone and DaveG go looking for stones and we all visit the haunted hanging tree; two alcoholic homosexual deviants make an appearence: evidence of serious dad dancing.
 
Brilliant as always, looking forward to the next episode. :beerjug:
 
Excellent. Huge grin on face :D :thumb
 
Knighthawk calling Step,le,toe..
Proceed with ze next instalment,
Be aware, the chickens have laid ze square oeufs
 
They'd had to stop many, many times unroute to re-supply their diminishing stomach contents.

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.

Did you sign the visitors book? Madame Gondree is quite a character, I like her :thumb2
 
Wild Hogs in France....

Let the Fromage flow..

:popcorn
 
We came. We saw. We left.

In the next episode, Melch nearly explodes : Att clacks his pants with joy after seeing a red car: Twizzle has a vacuum problem: Oblertone and DaveG go looking for stones and we all visit the haunted hanging tree; two alcoholic homosexual deviants make an appearence: evidence of serious dad dancing.

Don't forget the man dancing:thumb
 
Seating was arranged, and it was made clear to the waitress that we hadn't eaten for an hour and would appreciate a few loaves of bread to nibble on while we passed the menu around.

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Menu perused, beer ordered and food chosen

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Desserts were demanded. A double creamy banana boat with extra cream and some extra extra, please.
Which took it up a few levels.
No longer a mere boat, but a slab of banana galleon.

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After paying the bill, and with no gaviscon to aid the digestion we walked around the harbour.
Suddenly att come over all queer, he was fizzing like spit on a hot plate, buzzing like a stuck door bell in a home for the deaf.
He was difficult to understand being apoplectic with excitement but amongst the babbling and spittle he kept saying he'd seen a car, a red car, a fecking big red car driving on the beach, but it had now driven out of sight around the harbour wall. Off he ran like an 10 year old after an ice cream van bellowing and waving his arms around for us all to follow and see this red car. .
It was a Rover 216
If you could bottle little childrens excitement then att had just drunk the contents.
The only time in the whole of human history that someone has pissed themselves with pure unadulterated joy upon seeing a rover 216.
I'm hoping someone has a picture. All mine are blurred due to shaking with laughter.

After the 500 yard walk everyone was feeling peckish and decided we deserved a treat.
So off we rode for 5 minutes until we reached an ice cream parlour along the sea front.
Five minutes driving. But 20minutes parking, locking, losing wallets glasses and gloves, getting lost and losing three of us.

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We went through the ice cream menu.

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This was all too much for Melch, who nearly exploded and needed to decompress by laying perfectly still on a bench until air leakage reduced the pressure . I expect this is where the term "bench tested" originated.

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After we'd all gone through the ice cream menu and were feeling hypoglycemic and on a sugar high we set off back to Chez twizz before anyone suffered a diabetic black out.

We took the longway home, 37 miles, chasing the sun across the flat french landscape.
When near chez twiz we stopped off at the local bar had some sherberts and entertained the local tractor drivers and geriatric prostitutes by shouting at them in gap year esperanto.

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The next door neighbours were out to greet us on our return.
A nice couple, your typical french country type, swarthy deviant homosexual alcoholics, most probably why we got on so well with them.
As they were asking about les motos, a car pulled up, containing a friend of theirs, some bottles of alcohol and a well built black african woman. All curves, wobbles, flimsy clothing and a toothy smile. .

Their interest in les motos suddenly evaporated, they quickly waved their goodbyes and all fell through the door of their house in a tangle of limbs, giggles and french verbs.


Leaving us discussing carbs and tyre pressures and what's on tonights menu.

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In the next instalment..... We decide to go out to a local restaurant to eat, eerie goings on. As well as the previously mentioned stuff, twizzles vacuum problem, dad dancing etc. .
 
Made me larrf.

Surely that banana galleon is a photochop? :eek:

:clap

No no, but I think he took the shot with a 'Fisheye' lens as I am actually positively waif-like in reality.
 


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