Day 8 - Minxie leaves, I thought Charles Manson was dead?

T2 departed early doors to drop Minxie off at Malpensa airport, Milan. Bomber, Jan P and Big Jock were rudely awoken at 6.50am by an irate garage owner who started making gestures like the Pope in Vatican square i.e. crossing himself – spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch style. This was quickly translated by Big Jock who told Bomber and Jan P that we had to lift our tents and get to fuck!

Bomber promptly climbed into the cockpit in his pants and drove us a few metres down the road to safety. His Chief’s knicks had the desired effect and the garage owner locked himself in his garage until we had gone.

Once SRS was relocated it was discovered that we had to rendezvous with T2 at Malpensa airport. What a fuckin adventure that turned out to be! The brief stated that we were to follow the signs for Malpensa airport but at one of the roundabouts the road was blocked off. SRS then spent the next 30 minutes going round Italy in circles but getting nowhere fast. In fact at one point we ended up in a farmers field! At last we got back to the initial road block only to find that Italian drivers ignore all road signs and we were soon following this little black Fiat Uno along the blocked off road.

After being chased by the carabiniere, police helicopters and jumping an unfinished motorway bridge, SRS picked up the previous trail and headed on for Malpensa airport, successfully reaching their destination in time for breakfast. After a coordinated dump the crew of SRS were treated to yet another of Benger’s famous breakfast feasts – happy days.

It was planned to head back into Switzerland and try to reach the Matterhorn. This route took us through the Simplon Pass and the scenery was spectacular. Lots of photos and videos were taken and will hopefully be posted when the whole crew returns.

Many stops were made along the Simplon Pass courtesy of Mouldy – every 15 metres I think? The two crews took in the view and a few beers to boot, oh and yes the little Italian waitress was very nice. The Swiss army did take a few pot shots at the murtahurms with their tanks but you could clearly see why they stayed neutral during the world wars – their aiming was feckin pish; missed by miles a tells ya! Stick to your knives lads and leave the tank warfare to the British army, ha, ha.

The lads spotted a male Ibex (large deer) on the side of the mountain but Blind Pete (Bomber) said the only thing he could see through the “come closer scopes” was his own feckin eye. “Feckin iBox, wot Feckin iBox, I thought you played music on one of those chameens?” The crews also stopped off to climb up a large slope to visit a massive stone parrot disguised as a war memorial. I thought the Swiss didn’t fight wars; perhaps it was a dispute over a cuckoo clock or who could blow the biggest horn. PS. If you find out whom that was that could blow the biggest horn, can you inform Bomber!

After the climb and lots of group photos, the murtahurms were replenished with H2O. James insisted on getting everyone wet, insisted on getting his pants off and his bare arse out. Lots of photos and even a video was taken then the journey resumed.

We arrived at a campsite but the rules were absolute silence after 10pm. The magnificent 7 unanimously agreed that this could not be achieved and we left in search of alcohol Nirvana. 5 minutes down the road we found alcohol Nirvana. A small campsite owned by Donald (lovely man), which had hot showers, toilets, a bar, a pub, and he even offered to cook chips for our BBQ. Big Jock was in murtahurm heaven and was seen giving Donald a big bear hug to show his gratitude. Donald said a blowjob would suffice but Big Jock was not getting involved in any of that heemasexer pish.

We had a fantastic BBQ prepared by Benger on the facilities provided by Mouldy and cooked by Jan P and George. It was really appreciated and eaten swiftly by James, Bomber and Big Jock. Big Jock’s absence from the washing up was duly noted and Bomber made a mental note to shellack him at the next opportunity for being a feckin lazy can’t.

A great night ensued where banter was flying from all directions, stories of old were being told, by the old, and songs were being sung, by the old and by the young. I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it! Donald and Marie-Anne joined when the reception bar closed at 10pm. Mouldy got his laptop out and we were all shown the video clip of James’ lilywhite ass pissing around with a fresh water hose in the Simplon Pass. Afterwards everyone retired to T2 for a nice glass of Port and a jamming session with Mouldy on the guitar and Bomber and Big Jock on vocals. Bomber and Big Jock also had a feeble attempt at trying to get a tune out of Benger’s didgeridoo and much laughter was heard, especially from Aires Rock in Australia or is it France? Benger, help me out here!

As the troops bedded down for the night, Bomber and Big Jock found a boozer. Whilst in the boozer Bomber and Big Jock came across Charles Manson and the cast from “The Hills have Eyes” and soon realized these were the guys that made James exit the “Hicks Bar” earlier in the evening. Bomber and Charles became best of friends, exchanged dogging spots and both agreed to give Big Jock a severe shellacking about his previous misdemeanors with the washing up and his continuous insistence to be lazy at every opportunity. Big Jock felt like he was at an impromptu Courts Martial and decided to take his punishment like a man, but not from Charles Manson. This had been the best day of the tour so far and Bomber and Big Jock returned to camp at 0300.