Day 4 - A rendezvous for disaster? (Meeting the MILFS)

It is now 5am and having had too much sleep, I Big Jock, am up writing yet another blog entry. There is definitely no rest for the wicked, especially when you're as bad as me! So here goes.....

At last the rain has decided to fack off and pester some other bastard, so it's blue skies all around for the arrival of Da Milf 2, Chickess and Minxie (not a MILF I hasten to add).  Bomber has been sat up all night waiting for this day to arrive, and can only be compared to a young child waiting for Santa to empty his sack. I hope for all our sakes that you get to do likewise and soon! Now for fecks sake go back to sleep and stop annoying me with your constant renditions of "The plane boss, the plane - feck off tattoo!"

We all left Konigsfeld at 8.30am; it would have been 7.45am but the Phantom Phlan Phlinger had chucked a Phlan in Mouldy's thunderbox (sacrilege I tells ya) and now there is a witch hunt taking place - DNA sampling and bared arses all round I believe! The rules clearly stated there were to be no turds deposited unless in extreme emergencies.  Anyway, I digress.

After much discussion about who would empty the toilet, we eventually hit the road.  On the road to Singer we stopped off at a roadside WC and everyone took it in turns to use the German thunderbox.  There was however one member of T2 who didn't appear for the morning ritual.... "James, are you the Phantom Phlan Phlinger?" Ha, ha. (He denies everything Mouldy)

Big Jock took much flack from all directions for his persistent use of Pampers baby wipes, but as Big John Morgan would say, "any fool can be uncomfortable."

Bomber gave us our first German language lesson whilst we were all gathered around "Uncle Nick's Tea Wagon", and it went something like this:

"Ja, ja ich gute, fich meiner arsch, das este fantastische."

When asked, "where did you learn your German, Bomber?" He replied, "Anal crusaders 5 lads!"

We were soon back on the road and arrived around lunch time in Lake Constance on the German/Swiss border. We had arrived to do lunch but Big Jock thought we were going to die of hunger because the Swiss border guards had run off with our passports.  We did manage to blag our way across and our guns, ammunition and cannabis remained concealed throughout.