Please Please Please!
When using other peoples computer, do not forget to log off.
Also, Please, Please, Please, never go out wearing the shoes of a 12 year old!
Monday, 7 September 2009
Day 6 - Big Jock makes the rest of the crew feel marvellous
Guess who had too much to drink last night? Everyone! It's just that Big Jock made everyone else look absolutely fabulous, ha, ha. As Frankie Valli would say, "Oh what a night." It was a bit of a late start for some, but a small splinter group managed to get to the beach. On the way Big Jock constantly annoyed everyone by saying, "I feel shit, I'm gonna be sick, I need a loo." Mouldy offered solace by informing Big Jock that the mayor of the town lived next to the lavatories and then parked as far away from the loos as humanly possible. On the long walk to the loo Mouldy then informed Big Jock about other interesting things from his repertoire, to be suddenly hit with the following tirade, "Nick I admire your attempts to increase my knowledge of the world but at this present moment in time I don't feel in a learning mood and would really appreciate it if you could find me some loos!" "Jock, they're over there next to the Mayor's residence." Jock scurries off at a great rate of knots only to be met by a French "point and shoot" toilet - bastards.
It was at this point that Tim B spotted an establishment selling lager beer and it also had a sit down lavatory for Big Jock to rid himself of whatever Bruno had fed him the night before in Le Nautil. Two beers and two coffees later and the fab four were off for some "chicken on a fist", roast tatties, smelly cheese and French bread. Armed with scran they found a quiet spot near the beach and devoured the lot, well, 3 of them did. Big Jock was horizontal on a bench, gradually becoming a hazard to local shipping with his snoring. The lads thought it a good idea to place the chicken carcass on his back and watch the shite hawks tear it apart, hopefully eating Big Jock in the process, but they decided that this was too great a task even for the hungriest Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Sunday, 6 September 2009
It's all too much for Jock !!!!
The French hospitality catches him up !! Copy en-route to the Lovely Janina.
Got YA !!!!!!!!!!
Got YA !!!!!!!!!!
Saturday, 5 September 2009
Day 5 - Bomber appears in blue shoes
The writer of the blog (Big Jock) woke at 0945 to find the bathroom occupied, so decided to get his head down but Bomber and Tim were in full argument about Bomber's shit footwear. Deciding on a quiet course of action Big Jock grabbed some delicious breakfast from the Navy Chef (Al) and sorted out the previous night's hunger pangs. He didn't do mess chefs though, and this annoyed Bomber, again, ha, ha. Fuck off you Geordie maggot, who's doing the blog?
Breakfast was sound and Al thought it a great idea to visit the Super U for a Beer RAS. Dropping Marie and the lads off at the local boozer was a good idea, however, as it culminated in the best DTS since Napoleon said to Josephine "I fancy a beer, a bit of a piss take, a sing song and a hangover." Joshua and his oppo made sure the crew did not leave sober or hungry - well done French lads. Joshua had to be the maddest barman this side of the black stump and the crew were subjected to numerous japes and pranks which culminated in Big Ben the birthday boy wearing a large pink flower on his head and having his bare arse slapped by Bomber (don't ask!). All I will say is "Healthy Tits and Strength In Your Pants," be fabulous.
That evening the crew went back to Le Nautil where Big Jock drank himself asleep and had to be carried to the murtahurm. His only recollection was looking in the mirror and seeing fuckin' Papa Smurf looking back at him! Unfortunately seeing as Big Jock is the narrator of this Blog, he cannot remember anything else after that and would appreciate it if someone would fill in the missing bits.
Breakfast was sound and Al thought it a great idea to visit the Super U for a Beer RAS. Dropping Marie and the lads off at the local boozer was a good idea, however, as it culminated in the best DTS since Napoleon said to Josephine "I fancy a beer, a bit of a piss take, a sing song and a hangover." Joshua and his oppo made sure the crew did not leave sober or hungry - well done French lads. Joshua had to be the maddest barman this side of the black stump and the crew were subjected to numerous japes and pranks which culminated in Big Ben the birthday boy wearing a large pink flower on his head and having his bare arse slapped by Bomber (don't ask!). All I will say is "Healthy Tits and Strength In Your Pants," be fabulous.
That evening the crew went back to Le Nautil where Big Jock drank himself asleep and had to be carried to the murtahurm. His only recollection was looking in the mirror and seeing fuckin' Papa Smurf looking back at him! Unfortunately seeing as Big Jock is the narrator of this Blog, he cannot remember anything else after that and would appreciate it if someone would fill in the missing bits.
Day 4 - Al and Marie's place
Well we made it. Al and Marie's place was absolutely fantastic but moving aside, the lovely and I mean lovely hosts took us to Le Nautil (fantastic bar owned by Bruno) ( crap pool player, ha, ha.) We had a fabulous time playing pool and drinking fabulous French wine/spirits/beers. The tab was great as well but we won't mention that unless Bruno catches on, ha, ha.
The night went swimmingly with Al winning the anglo UK/French pool championships, and yet again proving the Brits were better than the French at table sports. He did have the help of Big Jock who couldn't hit a bulls arse with a banjo but seemingly had mastered the means of potting the right balls - well done Al.
The end of the night culminated in the boys having a fantastic scran cooked by the best Pusser's chef this side of the Bay of Biscay. Al it was delicious xx.
Big Jock, Marie and Al sank a few Malt whiskey's on a sun downers before bed, but Al was not tempted by the offer of a single bed in Big Jock's twin room, ha, ha. Why? Snoring, hairy chest, farting, again we question why Marie?
The night went swimmingly with Al winning the anglo UK/French pool championships, and yet again proving the Brits were better than the French at table sports. He did have the help of Big Jock who couldn't hit a bulls arse with a banjo but seemingly had mastered the means of potting the right balls - well done Al.
The end of the night culminated in the boys having a fantastic scran cooked by the best Pusser's chef this side of the Bay of Biscay. Al it was delicious xx.
Big Jock, Marie and Al sank a few Malt whiskey's on a sun downers before bed, but Al was not tempted by the offer of a single bed in Big Jock's twin room, ha, ha. Why? Snoring, hairy chest, farting, again we question why Marie?
Friday, 4 September 2009
Day 4 - Is Mouldy Lost of Wot?
We have been travelling now for the best part of 11 hours and you would have expected us to have arrived at a place "just up the road", hours ago. This begs the question, "Mouldy, are we lost or wot?"
Bomber is getting more and more irate and has even threatened to stab the DJ (Mouldy) if he keeps playing half a fuckin' song. Stab him with what was the question on every one's lips!
Keep chucking bananas at that fuckin' northern monkey Tim. Apparently the latest update from Big Ben was that he was convinced he had contracted deep vein thrombosis and would be having words with his younger brother when we eventually stopped. Tim was last seen putting on his training shoes, ha, ha.
Bomber is getting more and more irate and has even threatened to stab the DJ (Mouldy) if he keeps playing half a fuckin' song. Stab him with what was the question on every one's lips!
Keep chucking bananas at that fuckin' northern monkey Tim. Apparently the latest update from Big Ben was that he was convinced he had contracted deep vein thrombosis and would be having words with his younger brother when we eventually stopped. Tim was last seen putting on his training shoes, ha, ha.
Day 4 - Breakfast and beyond
Half way to Al and Maries it was Egon Benger's turn to feed Diabetic Dave and the five thousand. Armed with a box of Swan Vesta matches, it took him 8 hours to cook 1 rasher of bacon, but we persevered and managed to hang on to life long enough to be fed.
Big Jock armed with aforementioned Pampers bottom wipes went for his morning sabbatical but came straight back refusing to use the French "point and shoot method" of plopping one off. Bomber tried in vain to make Big Jock feel guilty about not contributing to mess chefs but was promptly told to rod off because he was typing the blog and Bomber was immediately referred to the last time he tried this on during the 2008 European murtahurm tour. Mouldy calmed things down by broadcasting a comedy session on the murtahurm wireless and both camps kissed and made up and the journey recommenced.
Don't ask me how, but it then transpired that Bomber had had 7 fingers up his bottom at varying stages of his Naval career, all medical he hastened to add - yeah right, and he is now being addressed by Tim by his new title for the tour - 7 Up!
After another quick pit stop for lavatorial requirements and chips, the journey recommenced. Big Jock should have visited the loo because his arse was emitting some vile stenches for the rest of the trip. Big Jock just blamed it on Doctor Mouldy Crippen's poisoning session the previous night.
Big Jock armed with aforementioned Pampers bottom wipes went for his morning sabbatical but came straight back refusing to use the French "point and shoot method" of plopping one off. Bomber tried in vain to make Big Jock feel guilty about not contributing to mess chefs but was promptly told to rod off because he was typing the blog and Bomber was immediately referred to the last time he tried this on during the 2008 European murtahurm tour. Mouldy calmed things down by broadcasting a comedy session on the murtahurm wireless and both camps kissed and made up and the journey recommenced.
Don't ask me how, but it then transpired that Bomber had had 7 fingers up his bottom at varying stages of his Naval career, all medical he hastened to add - yeah right, and he is now being addressed by Tim by his new title for the tour - 7 Up!
After another quick pit stop for lavatorial requirements and chips, the journey recommenced. Big Jock should have visited the loo because his arse was emitting some vile stenches for the rest of the trip. Big Jock just blamed it on Doctor Mouldy Crippen's poisoning session the previous night.
Day 4 - Thunderbird 2 lands in France
Alarm bells were ringing at crack sparrow fart and it was time to board the Big Cat to France. Once on board Diabetic Dave (Bomber) cut waves through the foreign bastards in an attempt to land the biggest plate of croissants and coffee since Gordon Ramsey said "fancy a French breakfast?" Big Ben got rid of the aggravating rat up his arsehole that had been created by Egon Mouldy's Haggis supper the previous evening. The rest of the team settled down to a bumpy channel crossing. On arrival in France the crew were greeted to persistent precipitation (it was fuckin' pissing down). A quick stop for French sheckles and then we were on the road again.
It didn't take long for Jackie, Bomber and Tim to hit the hay, complaining about not getting and previous shut-eye due to Big Jock's incessant snoring. Big Jock plugged into his iPod and the journey to Brittany was underway.
It didn't take long for Jackie, Bomber and Tim to hit the hay, complaining about not getting and previous shut-eye due to Big Jock's incessant snoring. Big Jock plugged into his iPod and the journey to Brittany was underway.
Day 3 - Another day, another hangover
Big Jock awoke after another late session at Benger's Palace. The lads had stayed up until the early hours listening to great music, upsetting the senior lock-keeper and supping vast quantities of red wine. Big Jock felt like he'd put his head on backwards and whilst scurrying around for some headache tablets, cursed the day that Tim Benger was born. After a quick breakfast at Happy Harry's Heart-attack Hostel, the drunken duo headed into town to secure the best price that day for Euros. Tim was totally convinced that the current recession was brought on by the laziness of the British workforce. He made this assumption on failing to get served in any shop he entered, so thoroughly pissed off, it was back to the nearest boozer for more lager beer and a good old drip (moan). The ferry trip down to town and back saw more foaming ale sunk and the pace of drinking was beginning to take effect on Big Jock's health.
At 4 o'clock the rest of the gang began to assemble, starting with Mouldy, shortly followed by Tim's brother Ben and dragging up the rear as usual was Bomber and Jackie (making a guest appearance and putting a stop to Bomber's constant profanities - NOT!) After a wonderful scoff of smoked salmon and Chieftain Haggis, lovingly prepared by Egon Mouldy, the Thunderbird 2 was packed up and the tour was underway.
A short stop to pick up Pamper's arse wipes for Big Jocky's delicate botty, the motley crew were Dover bound. It was from this point that things took their usual downward spiral - the ferry crossing was cancelled but no one had the decency to inform us, the crossing was re-scheduled to 4 o'clock in the morning (6 hours late) and Big Jock "I'm never sleeping in a fuckin' murtahurm ever again," slept in a murtahurm....... again, ha, ha.
At 4 o'clock the rest of the gang began to assemble, starting with Mouldy, shortly followed by Tim's brother Ben and dragging up the rear as usual was Bomber and Jackie (making a guest appearance and putting a stop to Bomber's constant profanities - NOT!) After a wonderful scoff of smoked salmon and Chieftain Haggis, lovingly prepared by Egon Mouldy, the Thunderbird 2 was packed up and the tour was underway.
A short stop to pick up Pamper's arse wipes for Big Jocky's delicate botty, the motley crew were Dover bound. It was from this point that things took their usual downward spiral - the ferry crossing was cancelled but no one had the decency to inform us, the crossing was re-scheduled to 4 o'clock in the morning (6 hours late) and Big Jock "I'm never sleeping in a fuckin' murtahurm ever again," slept in a murtahurm....... again, ha, ha.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Day 2 - Murtahurm Tour 2009
Big Jock is alive and kicking after last night's events in The Malta. Benger successfully quenched the aforementioned thirst by using his BOGOFF method, "drink 2 to Big Jock's one", or "drink 2, drink 2 faster."
After drinking with the largest man to be born in Wales, the pub fit duo made a great job of demolishing the remains of the potato harvest, plunging the Emerald Isle into another potato famine - unlucky Paddy!
Big Jock was officially the best dressed man in Benger's living room this morning. Two bacon and egg sarnies and the demon drinking duo are ready to go for another session across the water, courtesy of Tony's water taxi, ha, ha.
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
Day 1 - Murtahurm Tour 2009
Big Jock has arrived at the rendezvouz (Benger's Palace) two days early, insisting that Tim B accompany him to the nearest watering hole (The Malta), in order to slake the massive thirst that he has turned up with. Tim has decided that no man can drink on his own and has managed to coerce the Senior Lock-keeper into standing his duty whilst he carries out a more important one.
Watch this space for further updates, albeit of a very drunken nature, ha, ha.
PS. The blog has recommenced with gusto and will be regularly updated for at least the next 7 days.
Watch this space for further updates, albeit of a very drunken nature, ha, ha.
PS. The blog has recommenced with gusto and will be regularly updated for at least the next 7 days.
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