Far From The MCC
~ Est. in 1998 ~
“Arson And Vandalism
Taint Mr.
Smith’s Leaving Do”
|
Saturday 16th
July 2005 |
|
Result: Pissed and out of order |
|
Venue: |
|
12 noon - 6am |
|
For a day which had
promised so much, played out under rich blue skies and baking hot sunshine,
it had certainly drawn the curtains on a less than comforting site for a
certain Mr. J. Hoskins. As he stood looking down from his bedroom window, the
sun now afloat once more, he squinted apprehensively at a once tidy back
garden – a venue that had played host to a barbeque for friends. Where
once there was a fence that afforded squirrels a view, now there was none;
and where once there was a drying yellowy green garden, now there was just
ashes. He rubbed his hands across his tired and pale face and opened his eyes
once more, hoping in earnest this vision of hell was but just a dream. Erm,
no. Sorry, skip. > > >
Forward wind > > >
Jamiroquai comes along for the ride. T. Smith, that once
bludgeoner of all things shiny and red, was leaving Oxfordshire for the
slower pace life in < < <
Large rewind < < <
“You – a cabinet maker? Hahahaha.” Hurray - a beautiful
day for punting! After assembling an ensemble of friends and acquaintances,
Mr. Smith divided them in half and ordered them to their punts. “That way” he
ordered, “up stream, away from the crowds – we can drink more up there.” And
they did – lots. And even had time to make a pit-stop. At a riverside pub. There
they drank some more booze but decided it was getting late and they really
ought to be returning to the boathouse in preparation for the evening’s
barbeque. “Hmm”, mused James “a barbeque with lot’s of pissed people…. I
wonder if this is a good idea? Hmm….” > > >
Forward wind > > >
“Here’s some kindling for the fire!” The happy crowd
exchanged laughter and merriment whilst plying themselves with any alcoholic
beverage they could lay their fingers on (which was quite a lot). The
barbeque was good – some great meat there – unfortunately it was all devoured
by some convict from down under, so most people just chewed on surrounding
berries found in the trees. Maybe it was this chronic shortage of food which
would result in people getting rather oiled, but whatever the reason, a
bonfire soon sparked up in the centre of the garden - and what a
bonfire! Unfortunately, fire needs wood, and it appeared there was a short
supply in the back garden to keep the flames amused. Happily the revellers
found Mr. Hoskin’s garden fence a suitable and alternative, and after tearing
away the various panels and smashing the uprights with gay abandon, an
inferno soon resulted which more than warmed their number as the moon came out.
What laughter! What fun!
> > > Forward wind > > > Ahh, the West
Country, famed for it’s cider and slow pace of life - just the tonic thought
Mr. Smith as he settled on the doorstep of his campervan and admired the view
across Minehead. All patchwork fields and lovely little cottages - hardly a
blemish on the landscape. Now, all he needed was a week or two of working as
a apprentice to some cheerful local cabinet maker, and his little adventure
would be complete.
> > > Forward wind > > > He could hardly open
the door to his campervan, let alone clamber inside. Cider, darts, cider,
putting, cider, skittles, cider, cider, and more cider. Why had be allowed
the cricket team to distract him from his goals?? He flopped on his makeshift
bed, eyes slowly closing…. * * * * - pride:
feeling of self-respect or pleasure in something by which you measure your
self-worth; or being a reason for pride; or simply a stupid part of the male
brain which inhibits a male’s ability to make a decent decision. ‘Guy Falkes’ |
More Photos from the day:
1 / 2
/ 3 / 4 / 5
/ 6 / 7 / 8
/ 9 / A / B
/ C
*