Thumper Club Forum
Club House => Chatter => Topic started by: guest7 on July 10, 2010, 07:07:18 PM
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Now that we are entering the touring season (and yes I know some of you hardy souls tour 12 months a year), I got to thinking about the little *******-ups that sometimes happen when you are away from home and all things familiar.
I was thinking about the seminal piece of bike-journalism that is the Panther club's account of a group ride to Italy. On their way back to Blighty they stopped off at one of those little bar-tabac-bookmakers that you see in French towns, with facilities for eating, drinking, smoking and betting. The riders sat down and one of them consulted the menu and asked for a tasty sounding dish. The waiter erupted into laughter and then turned to the rest of the clientele to explain that the stupid Englishman had just ordered a runner in the 4.30 :D :D :D
I've got plenty of stories like this, but one still torments me with its sheer embarrassment. I was staying in an Irish country hotel and during supper I told my wife and her brother that I thought the the faded black and white photo of an old man on the wall was Éamon de Valera. I described how he was the hero of the struggle for independence and prime minister and president of an independent Ireland. When the owner served up supper I said, "That's Éamon de Valera isn't it?"
"No" she replied, "that's Declan the local gravedigger".
Anyone else care to share? ;)
GC
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Some guy was once telling me about a girl who returned to her house unexpectedly to find her parents in an uncompromising position in the lounge.
What was on the telly again GC? ???
And what was stuffed where where the sun doesn't shine GC? ???
And what was she shouting again GC? ???
;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Great story by the way......
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Another Ireland story then. It was a small village on the West coast of Ireland, a Uni caving club trip to Co Clare in the early 1980s.
As usual we had been drinking heavily and somehow heard of a party in the village hall. Being keen to support the locals/blag more beer we went.
Now I am not much of a dancer, don't like it, get embarassed etc, but by the end of the evening finally plucked up the courage to boogy.
So I did. To the National Anthem.
Richard
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So I did. To the National Anthem.
LOL!!!!! Marvellous ;) :D
That reminds me, I was on a bike trip in China and us 8 Brits were at a function arranged in our honour by our Mongolian hosts. Apparently the form there is if they sing to you you have to sing back, if they dance you have to dance, etc. Well... they sang to us and very good it was too. Imagine the scene as 8 bikers who only met a few days before at Heathrow sat discussing which song that they all knew. It was nigh on impossible and in the end we did a ridiculous version of "8 green bottles", complete with comedy bikers falling over as each bottle fell.
Oh feck, even as I write this I can feel my cheeks burning.
GC
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Some guy was once telling me about a girl who returned to her house unexpectedly to find her parents in an uncompromising position in the lounge.
I can't possibly repeat all the details here, as you well know ;)
All true though, I assure you, and almost as good as the sleeping mother and twin beds in one hotel room that you told :D :D