The Durham Run 3rd- 5th Nov 06 A.A.R.

Well, this little outing was definitely one which will be memorable, when the gaggle turned up at our house, Dinky-Doo was off the back of Steelys bike before he had stopped & through the door like a heat-seeking missile! (I mean that in both senses of the word, I thought we were gonna have to chisel her off the radiator!) The phrase “I don’t do cold” was about all we could get out of her all fuckin’weekend! After the obligatory cup of tea &10 fags, a quick service on Steely’s bike, running repairs to Doug’s luggage (I want my bungees back you old bastard!) & Jumbo John raiding my wardrobe, we were off oooop north!

By the first stop for a fag & to meet up with Geoff (who couldn’t be arsed to wait!), everyone was askin’ each other “Just whose fuckin’ stoopid idea was this exactly?” (Cue Crip slinking off into the background before anyone remembered, whilst Dink & Shaz stood there shakin’ & chatterin’ like a pair of mismatched love eggs!!)

By the next stop things were warming up (but not enough to placate Dink, who had by then finally remembered whose fault it was!) Crip kept himself warm by dodging the various kicks & insults she was throwing his way! Shaz kept herself warm by quietly seething at the motorway fuel prices & that the bog seat was cold! The rest of us just stood around & took the piss out of Dumpy’s fuel tank capacity, (well it was something to do!)

The rest of the journey was reasonably uneventful (I will skip quickly past the bollockings I got from a, Steely, (the speed filtering.) b, Doug, (not enough fag breaks) & c, Dumpy (overall average speed) to mention the first of the several Team FireBlade fuck-ups that occurred this weekend! Jumbo John won the award for the “most novel way round a roundabout” This manoeuvre had us all awestruck! (I will leave him to explain that one!)

We arrived on site at about half past one after a little “detour” past the site entrance (Ooops, well it would have ruined our reputation if we had made it there without one little fuck-up wouldn’t it!) & promptly drank a full urns worth of tea & coffee trying to warm up whilst booking in! Then we began to set up camp. Where we were then treated to the spectacle of Team FireBlade Fuck-up number II; we had the honour of watching Jumbo Johns bike decide to have a “little lie down” (it was probably tired after such a journey carrying all that weight!) I thought I had heard every excuse possible for a bike falling over until the idiot tried to shrug the blame onto Mother Nature for making “dodgey branches.”

Seeing as John was down in the dumps about his little accident, Steely & Crip promptly set about lightening the mood & giving us a good old laugh with a rendition of the old favourite “putting up a tent without the women!” (It just goes to prove that old adage about an infinite number of monkeys & typewriters!)
Once we had all recovered from that comedy turn, we set off up to the hall in search of a pint, only to be told that the bar wasn’t open until 7p.m. (that didn’t bode well) we were informed that the local pubs were within easy walking distance though! So off we set in search of a pub that one of the East Durham lot had informed Steely was called “The Bare Arse” Well, all I can say is that the locals lied like cheap Japanese watches! (If that was half a mile, I will show my arse in Woolworth’s window!)
It was all well & good for some of us, but I thought we might just have to order a taxi or steal a fookin’ wheelbarrow for the return journey to help some of our less agile members!

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We eventually found the pub, which actually was named “The Bay Horse” (I suppose the confusion over the name was down to the fact that his lordship was unable to decipher fluent Geordie & the locals do not speak fluent idiot!) and got down to some serious “attitude adjustment” with some of the crew attempting to get from vertical to horizontal at “Warp factor fuckin’ nine Mr Sulu” as the pub didn’t serve food! We then set about impressing the locals with our “formation speed drinking” routine whilst Geoff gave an impromptu display of his “Projectile vomiting” trick just outside the front door of the pub in front of the local Womens Institute tea party!

We were then saved from having to kill & eat Dumpy by one of the locals informing us that the chippy opened at 4.30 & he promptly gave us directions to it. They were, “Just tek yersells oot the dowar, torn left an gaan a wee bit ov a weay fooortha alang the roooede, yers cannit miss It man!” (He doesn’t know the bleedin’ Jugsters then, does he?) Havingkept Steely well the fuck out of this conversation to save further confusion, we went for a bite to eat, (or, as in Jumbo Johns case, a fuckin’ shitload, I thought he would need that fuckin’ barrow) & then set off back up to the site for the evenings entertainment.
Well, I can sum that up in one word SHITE!  (There was less atmosphere than on the moon! Cue for more beer then!) Apparently, the disco they had booked had let them down so they had a substitute in at short notice. But he sort of filled the gap until the band who to be quite honest, I do not remember much of.

As soon as the band kicked off, Noah & the missing 3rd of Team FireBlade (Witty) turned up (he was the reason no-one could remember the rest of the Friday night!) brandishing a bottle of Pocheen & a dopey grin. (This is the main reason no-one remembers Friday night!) The Twisted Sisters promptly embarked on what Shaz later admitted was “not one of their best ideas” & started making their own cocktails containing said pocheen, vodka & red bull (with a drop of Jack, Which they “borrowed” out of Crips Jacket, just to take the edge off it!!!!!!!!) They then started a falling of their chairs competition!
Needless to say, at the end of the evenings entertainment, we all enjoyed the site of those two pissed up bints staggering & falling as they weaved their way back across the field to beddy-byes. (Though Steely had other ideas!) As I was struggling to stop the Ginger Ninja from trying to crawl under the air-bed, I had to laugh to myself as I could just make out the pathetic wheedling of his nibs trying to get his hole, whilst Dinky was grumbling from the depths of her sleeping bag “Fack off! It’s too cold!)

The Saturday morning was a time for miracles, as Geoff (old vomitus maximus himself!) arose from the dead & claimed that it had to have been the proverbial “bad pint” Crip got up before 09.00 (without the aid of wild horses!) & Shaz, (amazingly) made good on her oath to Dink & fetched (and paid for) the teas & Bacon butties as promised as an enticement to get her to go on the rally in the first place!

After everyone had partaken of the excellent breakfast that was available (in John’s case twice) we had a straw vote & decided to go and give Darlington the benefit of our company (or rather their licensed premises at any rate!)
So, off we trooped, en masse, to the BUS STOP for the ride into town, (with the exception of Geoff & Den who had decided to have a crack at finding Durham instead) to the sounds of Steely grumbling “Big hard bikers! We will never live this facka down if it ever gets out.” To which Dinky retorted” shut the fuck up tosser, it will be warmer than the bike!”

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 Funnily enough, we found a sympathetic bus driver who took pity on us & just to make everyone feel comfortable, proceeded to drive the bus like a bike! (By this I mean he went off like a racehorse with a pound of tobacco rammed up its arse & took every corner on two wheels!)

Conveniently, he dropped us off at the stop where we would re-embark for the return leg of the “Darlington TT” which just happened to be on the doorstep of a pub so, we nipped in. (Well, it would have been rude not to, wouldn’t it?) We then proceeded to “Sample” the delights of Darlington (through the bottom of lots of beer glasses) at various establishments around town where we were eventually joined by Geoff & Den (Typical Jugsters, they had failed to find Durham!)

We eventually “struck gold” so to speak by finding an ideal pub for our requirements, (seedy as fuck, £1.30 a pint) & started impressing the locals, Jugsters style!
Just prior to being asked to leave, we decided to go & do a bit of shopping. We visited the shopping centre, where Shaz & Dink tried to wobble off with the credit cards (we had to physically remove them from a toy shop, where they were running amok with a pair of space hoppers & water pistols, shouting “ try before you buy!”)

We then decided to mozy on back to the rally site. So, we headed in the direction of the bus stop with a quick stop at a chip shop to grab something to eat (cue Jumbo John’s 5th meal of the day) then back in the Nags for a quick one whilst waiting for the bus (well, it would have been rude not to, wouldn’t it?) cue the 3rd instalment of Team FireBlade’s fuck ups! Jumbo, whilst STILL munching his way down through the biggest portion of Kebab meat I have ever witnessed, managed to terrify a load of pensioners by dropping & smashing the non too hetero lager glass he had  “borrowed” from the seedy boozer. (Yes, all who were there will remember the glass; the one Steely was drinking from!)

The return leg of the Darlington T.T. was quite amusing as well, what with a slightly tipsy (pissed) Witty dribbling over some poor local girl & Shazza tying the fringes of Steelys jacket to the bus seat. Then, after we had disembarked from said bus, Big, Blonde & Brainless Announced to all present (from behind the tree where he was pissing on his shoes!) “No Facka mentions the bus ride to anyone, I have a reputation to maintain” which prompted everyone to attack him so as he pissed all down his own trousers as well!

The early evening entertainment was a “do it yourself” arrangement as there was none, so we amused ourselves by ramming booze down  our necks like it was going out of fashion down at the tents. Then, lo and behold, Browny turned up, after a rather circuitous journey to the rally!
The actual evening’s entertainment laid on by the East Durham lot paled into insignificance after Browny set about helping Steely get into the “party mood” with a little bit of the old white “chemical enhancement.” Better known as “columbia’s finest export”
Yet again, the disco was a last minute substitute with a record collection that wouldn’t have amused a party of 8 year olds let alone drunken bikers, but it seemed to do the trick for his nibs. Off he went, like a cocaine fuelled jack-in-the-box, dragging poor unsuspecting women up onto the dance floor with him, whilst he “strutted his funky stuff” to such heavy metal classics as “the birdy song” and “agadoo.” And, I ask of those who were present, who will ever forget his moves to that rock classic by S club seven, “reach for the stars”!

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After he “hit the dance floor” so to speak, the shit hit the fan, big style! We later found out that the woman involved in the incident was a “civilian” (non-biker) and also a card carrying schizophrenic psychopath! Whilst old “John Travolta” was cutting a rug, he inadvertently caused her boob tube style top to fall down! Then, (from what we could make out) when he realised what he had done, he tried to help her get back into it, which she took as him trying to grab her tits & accused him of rape!
Needless to say, things rapidly went downhill from that point. Whilst Crip, Steely & I were carrying out a damage limitation exercise that the Labour party post Iraqi invasion spin doctors would be proud of, the “ladies” set off on a seek & destroy mission to find the crazy bitch and to quote Dinky “give her a fuckin’ good hiding.”

In the course of this, Shazza possibly set the North/South diplomatic relations back a couple of hundred years. On her way back from the bog, some bint stopped her and said “Oh another Jugster, do you want to feel my tits as well?” Shazza thought she had found her target & promptly smashed the “smart mouthed tart” (her words, not mine) in the chops! Ooops!
(Oh how the Diplomatic Corps lost out when she decided to become a cook!)

It was just some other bint, trying to be funny. According to witnesses, it was hilarious watching her fall on her arse though! (It was reported to have been a fuckin’ good punch, obviously Shazza graduated from the Gordon Ramsay School of charm & catering!)
It turned out that the “psycho bitch from hell” was rapidly escorted off site for her own protection after she & Steely had apologised to each other over this little misunderstanding.

The rest of the evening descended into the usual drunken debauchery for which we are usually blamed, with both Witty & his nibs taking a lie down for a bit, Crip & Shazza playing hide & seek with Witty’s JD bottle, which the East Durham lot were trying to confiscate. Various other members of our happy throng took the opportunity to show the locals just how talented they were & took the art falling of a chair to new extremes of hilarity.

I will skim over the details of the nightly task of trying to get ‘er indoors into her sleeping bag the right way up, rounding up Witty, who had decided to try & molest the sheep in the adjoining field, shouting “come ‘ere ya bastards, I only want a comfy pillow!” & Jumbo John & Noah’s nightly fight for who slept on the uphill side of the tent (for Jumbo it was a matter of comfort, for Noah it was a fight for survival in case Jumbo rolled on top of him!) I will not even mention the pathetic noises coming from our next door neighbours tent as Donna decided to take advantage of Steelys cocaine fuelled vigour! (The only reason she even contemplated these shenanigans was down to the fact that Shazza had bought her a hot water bottle earlier in the day!)
As the sun rose & cast its cool warmth over the horizon, there were signs of life in our area of the field, though, everyone was showing the signs of such an extensive nights partying, but we absolutely amazed the East Durham lot by getting up, packing up & being ready to roll by 09.30 a.m. with the exception of Bungle who just had to go for his third shit of the morning!

Once we were on the way home, we thought we had seen the last of the silly antics of Team FireBlade but we were wrong! After a rather interesting detour (Ahem), we eventually stopped for a Fag/coffee/petrol/piss (and for Jumbo, a 3 course meal) break, Witty’s bike decided (the course of him re-mounting), that it wanted a lie down too!

 

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He was rescued from beneath his “napping” Blade by Dumpy & Shazza whilst everyone else stood around & offered helpful advice, such as “get some stabilizers you drunken twat”
The blame for this was laid squarely on the shoulders of part of his luggage (the cargo net) taking a liking to his boot heel!

The rest of the journey back to Netherseal was uneventful, & we made it in good time for the A.G.M. much to the surprise of the rest of the club members!
Though this was not the end of the antics of Team FireBlade! Oh no, Crip bless ‘im, had obviously felt a little bit left out of the proceedings this weekend, what with the other two idiots being on such top form. So, good ole’ Cripless, determined not to be outshone, decided to end the rally with a bang (literally!) & promptly “rear ended” Windy Wendy’s car on the way back to the Tavern!

So here endeth the tale of the East Durham Rally, which will be forever remembered as

“The Rally too, Far / cold / drunk / daft / dangerous!”*

 

See what I mean Wendy!

 

(*Choose your own adjective!)

We would like to extend our thanks to the lads up in Durham for there fantastic organisation skills under very difficult circumstances. Respect!!! Jugsters MCC