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.
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.
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.
The second prong arrived during the afternoon, in a great deal of noise, confusion and the early signs of senility.
They'd had to stop many, many times unroute to re-supply their diminishing stomach contents.
Did i mention they had to stop many times ?
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.
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.
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.
Nice roads
Then the road turned treacherous, every now and again a bend appeared.
This caused great consternation amongst all the hard riding mofos.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The second prong arrived during the afternoon, in a great deal of noise, confusion and the early signs of senility.
They'd had to stop many, many times unroute to re-supply their diminishing stomach contents.
Did i mention they had to stop many times ?
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.
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.
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.
Nice roads
Then the road turned treacherous, every now and again a bend appeared.
This caused great consternation amongst all the hard riding mofos.
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.
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.