FARMYARD PARTY 2006
After Action Report

 

Well, I dunno about you lot but I had a good time, this is how the weekend went as I recall.
My farmyard weekend began with all the best intentions, having arranged with Steely & Donna for them to stop at ours on the Thursday night. With the intention being a couple of  beers, something to eat and an early night, ready for an 08.30 start the next morning when the rest of the crew turned up, not forgetting to leave the back door open for Wiggy to let himself in at about three a.m. after riding over at the end of his shift.
Needless to say, that “Cunning plan” went to rat-shit within 20 minutes of the first can of Stella being hefted! When Wiggy arrived, at about 01.30 a.m. the four of us were as pissed as a tramps mattress! Well, we couldn’t just go to bed when he turned up could we? That would have been rude! So, the party continued on till about 02.30a.m!

Roll the clock forward now to about 07.45am & picture the scene, where everyone is trying to get ready like a scene from a keystone cops film, cos the rest of the posse have arrived on the front doorstep & Shaz isn’t out of bed yet, let alone got the bloody kids down to the mother-in-laws! Believe me the only thing on the menu for breakfast was a paracetamol sandwich & a cup of tea!
Some of the (soon to be) members were up to the usual club standard as to finding places, what with Rob & Tracey missing the turning by 200 yards, over-shooting by 2 miles & still managing (after one quick phone call for re-directing back to Whitwick) to be at front door by 08.00 (even Bungle was early!) This gave us time to check all luggage was secure, (no names, eh Alex!) & admire Ajeys new toy, a VN1600. (The ashtray was obviously full on his year old 1500. He’d only taken it in for a new back tyre!)
We were on the road for just after half past eight & en route, confusing Ajeys mate Paul by going round the Jn 23 roundabout to collect Trev, (who was looking thewrong way!) Poor old Paul thought we were living up to the club motto big style by heading south for Yorkshire!
We had agreed to travel at about 85m.p.h. & that the first stop would be at the usual spot on the A1 WRONG! We ended up stopping at the 24A services so as Steely could issue me with a bollocking cos Rob’n’ Trace couldn’t keep up! (Rob confided in me during this stop that our 85m.p.h. was a bit faster than his!) We managed to get to the site by about 12(ish), after a successful sortie round the York ring road, and tackling a rather “interesting” scenic route. (Now there’s a fuckin’ understatement!)

Nick, H & the Young uns had picked a good spot (dead easy to find, near a bar!) and had commandeered a shitload of wood for the fire into the bargain! Then all we had to do was pitch camp & have a drink till the rest turned up! We then had a few tales of woe, Poor Trace suffered a low speed “off” in traffic, but did nothing more than break her clutch lever & put a minor dent in both her tank & her pride, Well done!

 

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Weaz made it up the Sutton bank in a slow but steady manner then, after setting up, went of with his sis Wendy to get beer & promptly ran out of fuel at the gate on the way back in again! (Cue a pearler of a teddy out the pram moment!)

The Friday entertainment was top notch (and I’m not on about the bands!) Crip started the evening’s entertainment on a high with his old favourite titled “Erecting the tent” and it ended on an equally hilarious note with Steely doing the poorest impression of a cat burglar ever, trying about 6 tents on his hands & knees before Donna, from within their tent, relented & hinted upon the right direction with the subtle phrase “This way shithead!” Whereby he promptly fell into my fucker!

Saturday dawned with the sun coming up at “Warp factor nine, Mr Sulu” which didn’t help some of the heads sitting round the camp one Fuckin’ bit! The usual morning “Dawn Chorus” ensued. (That immortal scene from blazing saddles has got fuck all on us lot!) Steely, as per usual, carried on his time honoured tradition of the “Tight as fuck,butt-cheek two step” to the woods for his annual “al fresco” dump!

 The rest of the Saturday daytime, as those who were there will recall, was a “cluster-fuck” of magnificent proportions! His nibs’s plan being “We’re gonna visit Smithy & Mother but I can’t remember where the house is Pard.”  I says “you get me to Caton, I’ll get you to the house” “Right-ee-ho” says he “not a problem” WRONG! After one “U” turn, through a petrol station, back to a roundabout & then with Steely pointing at every exit like a demented Gibbon, The Jugsters shot off like stabbed rats down all 6 exits & were scattered all over north Yorkshire! Unbeknown to us he had forgotten to put on his glasses & was asking Dink “wassat say – wassat- say!”

Eventually, we found Caton, had a pleasant visit with Smiffy & Mother & then headed off, back to site, obviously calling for a beer on the way! Then, en route, a quick stop at the bargain booze shop. Not such a bargain for some though! Wiggy managed to lose 8 of the 10 cans of Stella he was carrying for Steely when the letcherous old twat stopped to pick up the hitch-hiker with the big tits! (How good does a £5 can of beer taste pard?)

Back on site, normality resumed. Witty got pissed as a rat in about 40 minutes flat! The Twisted Sisters went on a shopping rampage the Vikings would have been proud of! Though, Shaz was to later regret the fact that she & Dink purchased matching “Nobody knows I’m a Lesbian” tee-shirts! (Seeing as a real one tried to trap off with her in the queue for the bogs!)
The trophies & awards for that evening were as follows; Helen excelled herself winning outright the “get pissed, dance like a looney & fall over dead race” Agey,s mate Paul won the “get one on a promise & then get blown out competition”
Steely won the “most deserved A.S.B.O. award, for singing out of key!” (Well done Witty, nice one!)
Later, back round the camp-fire, Doug won the “Falling off a log competition” & Wiggy collected the “Fred Astaire of the Farmyard award” for his drunken Break-dancing routine!

 

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Sunday morning dawned all too quickly for most of us I suspect, & after the usual morning rituals such as the gentle cries of “ooh me fookin’ head,” the usual dawn chorus & Pard trooping off to “Feed the badgers.” People started to pack up in preparation for the journey home. Oh what a laugh, watching Wiggy trying to fasten on the extra 220 pounds of Rally tat that he had bought on one of his “I,ll av may wun ov them” frenzies! Crip & Trace, doing a rendition of the old favourite, “well it all came in that fookin’tent-bag” routine!
Some people’s preparations, I have to say, were slightly more exotic than others though. Weaz made a late grab for the “waste not, want not” breakfast award & promptly finished off Crips half a bottle of J.D. from the night before!
He then valiantly led Team “headache from hell” out of the gates on auto-pilot & onto the road home (Where he won the “sleep-triking” award on the M1, not once but twice!)
The ride home was an event in itself, starting with dodging all of the “Left luggage” half way down Sutton Bank. Then we had to contend with Weazels antics as well as Rob & Buzby frolicking around at the front of the pack like spring lambs, whilst the rest of us hang-over suffering fuckwits tried to second guess which lane those fuckin’ maniacs were gonna choose next! (Or in weasels case the hard shoulder as well!)

Then, at the second stop, we finally got back into touch with Doug who had been lost on the way & we also managed to catch up with some of the others who had decided to “Burn it” but had given up on the idea! At that point, Shaz, yours truly, Bungle & the boy wonder had to separate from the rest of the pack as Shaz & I had to get back for the kids. But, to my knowledge there were no more incidents worth reporting. (Or if there were, you fuckers have kept them to yourselves!) All in all a top weekend!