Crazy Dayz

Had such a surreal experience today that i would like to share. First of all let me say cheers to the comments on the last post. I hope you all know that i realise that these clowns are the money donators long term and that we need them. However in a tournament situation i find it difficult to think like that, given that i am out and they are in with my chips and I have very little chance of seeing the little fookers again! Seriously though, it was written immediately after busting, red faced, and like someone pointed out was very much a vent post.

So to today. Yesterday my Dad and his wife, who are currently in Europe from their home in Canada, arrived back from Italy where they had been visiting family in and around Rome. This meant that i welcomed them back to my London pad so they could stay the night before heading off to Devon today. I was presented with pasta, wine, prosciutto and a monster block of Parmesan so all was good in the world. Oh yeah!! I was also given a "Three Titty Cookie". When they told me they had brought a "Three Titty Cookie" i was like "Ha ha, yeah, good one. That's obviously one of those things that gets lost in translation. Means one thing here which is rude and another thing there which isn't rude" etc etc. They were my thoughts until after dinner i was given a white bag and pulled out what can only be described as a gingerbread woman (although it turned out she was more just bread than ginger bread) and there for all to see in the centre of her chest were a row of 3 breaded breasts! Complete with breaded nipples!!!! I couldn't believe it and it cracked me up. I just tried to google image a picture for you but can't find one. I suggest you try to find one by using the google image search engine and the term "three titty cookie", to see the most bizarre array of breasts, cocks and flour based baked confectionery you are ever likely to see!!

So we had a good evening and they planned to leave today after i took them out and they treated me to lunch somewhere posh. We had to make a stop first though at a branch of Europcar to sort out some detail regarding their car. They had requested a Golf TDI but had been given a Jetta. In the hurry to get back from the airport last night they had paid for the deposit on the wrong credit card. The correct card gives them travel insurance which covers motoring abroad. Given that they were to make a longish journey today, they wanted to get it sorted out before they left.

So we set off to Putney. Europcar is right by the station at Putney Bridge. Except when we got there we had come round the wrong way and were now facing a "emergency only" one way road. This short narrow road had a bollard either end and the one nearest us was folded down, whilst the one at the other end remained up. I suggested we drive over the one that was laying down, as nothing could come the other way, to pull up in front of their office, where the door was clearly open, nip in and ask the best way to their car park. This seemed sensible given that the road we came in on was the exit road for all the double decker buses from the train/bus station and this would get us out of the way. So at about 3 miles an hour we pulled towards this bollard.

All of a sudden, without the faintest hint of a scrape, bang or anything, there was a huge bang. My ears shot through with a piercing ring as a result of the noise. I could hardly see anything as the car was full of smoke. It was such a surreal vision my description really doesn't do it justice. My dad shouted for us to get out of the car. He thought the car was going to blow up. It became almost immediately clear that there was nothing wrong with the engine. What had happened, for a reason that still remains unclear was that the airbags had suddenly deployed. Filling the car with their foul smelling talc-like smoke. The air bag had smacked me in the chest and my dad was bleeding from his arm where it had caught him. Looking at the picture in my minds eye now it was like something out of a war movie. Like we just got bombed or something. Lol. It did actually make me think about the war. I was pretty shaken up and my dad was actually worse. How the hell must these guys and girls in the desert cope with it constantly? Fookin scary.

Anyways, we went into Europcar and the guy, despite having been closed for half an hour already, stayed and sorted us out with a RAC rescue. After a lengthy wait and dealing with all the cocks that stopped every 2 minutes to hear us recount the tale of "What happened?" we were picked up. My dad and his good lady were taken to Heathrow where they were given a free upgrade and told that the car will be fully investigated. There seems to be no blame aimed at us, which is correct, but i am going to contact VW and see if i can get a free car! (or a t-shirt) My head hurts a lot and my right ear is right fucked but i am sure it will be okay and the two of them made it safely to Devon.

The last time i was in an incident like this was about a year ago. A group of "the lads" got in an old, small, "Nova" style car and headed off ooop north, home to a house party in Leeds. No sooner had we opened our beers (not the driver) and made it onto the motorway out of London, pulled nicely into te fast lane when BANG. Huge bang and suddenly strangely dark inside the car. It turned out they had filled up before we left and checked the oil and water. When we picked up speed on the motorway the air pressure was too much for the bonnet that had not been closed properly. The bonnet flew up and, catching the wind, blew back and bent right over, smashing and attaching itself to the windscreen blocking the drivers view completely. My fast thinking companion lowered himself in his chair so he could see under the small arch of windscreen that was left visible below the curve of the bonnet whilst slowly breaking. The car behind us knew something was wrong and slowed right down also. We eventually stopped on the fast lane of the motorway and got out, some still with Carlsberg in hand to assess the damage. Eventually we got it off the road and once the driver had shaken it off, we resumed thoughts of how to get to Leeds. We called bus, train and plane companies; no dice. The rescue dude said that a replacement was a no go for at least 24 hours. In the end we came to the un-unanimous agreement that we should drive it home smashed windscreen and all as that was where the car's insurance was registered. 200 miles with a fully shattered windscreen later, we arrived at their house, parked the car and got straight in another one to go to the party. That was the night the Police turned up after a neighbour had come round with a baseball bat....but that's another story....

What a day. It's no wonder i never go outside