It was the holiday that was not meant to be. However kiddies, dogs and a desire to be in bed before midnight was not going to prevent this group of party animals from celebrating another year of still talking to each other. Within spitting distance of Trowbridge, in two small cottages (one for adults, one for children + dog owners) yet another week of nonsense passed. See fine specimens at play in tough sporting events, and even better in the pool…
Accountant Drugs Shocker!
Who would have thought it? It just shows that the pressures of a job, coupled with raising a family and living on waffles in Brussels is enough to drive even the sanest man to drugs. Deprived of his usual stash, Alan reverted to shooting a line of smoky bacon from a crisp in order to get high. His willing pupil however couldn’t make it past the roast chicken, which was a shame considering there were nine other exotic flavours to sample.
In his deluded state he even managed to persuade a group of weak minded individuals that they were actually starring in a remake of Harry Potter at Lacock Abbey. What a load of plonkers!
How Does It Work?
Babies proved one of the trickiest things to master during the week.
Sarah failed to realise that still holding the baby when the music stopped usually meant a nappy change.
Shirl and Adi on the other hand decided to use their years of experience to teach Grace how to drink properly from a bottle. In a fit of kindness they didn’t inflict the Sloe gin on her, which had actually disappeared rather quickly (ho ho).
(In the background you can see how Howie left his car each day in the hope someone would nick it, something even John declined to do now he was a proud Mercedes driver).
Is all in the car
This year’s “My car is considerably better than yours” competition was convincingly won by John as he arrived in his gleaming Mercedes convertible. “Cost me an arm and a leg, this did”, he shouted over the scrape of wheel hubs dragging along the concrete wall as he reversed up the drive and into a hedge. “Luvelly motor, does over a ton without breaking wind. Bit like me really.”
Later in the week however his tone had changed somewhat. “I told them it was yours Rachel,” he was heard to whisper. “Said you’d earned it through hard work and dedication. I luv you.”
Couple of the Year
Couple of the week this year went to the Chris and Susie, who obviously felt obliged to be affectionate on account of their upcoming wedding. However there was some evidence that their affectionate dribbling was not all genuine.
One intrepid photographer snapped the incriminating picture of Chris trying to throw Susie of a balcony having found out how much her wedding shoes cost.
SCHOOL SPORTS DAY
It wasn’t a day for the faint hearted. Come to that, it also wasn’t a day for the fit, fast, creative or intelligent. The annual Cooke Cup became the annual Smithen Cup and a whole load of new rules came into force – no stopping for a nice pub lunch, no lazy beers in the afternoon. No, this was a day when a few people came into their own, and a few others just went off on their own to escape.
Organised and run by the Queen of the Clipboard, it was Team 2 who somehow took the honours despite the obvious handicaps.
As Jackie explained the rules to Sarah, she was rather surprised to see her fall over. One too many cocktails possibly – or something to do with the three legged race.
Team 1’s Dover landmark was the White Cliffs. Undoubtedly the most creative idea on offer, it fell apart during the rendition of ‘Summer Holiday’.
The three legged race went well for these two, who seemed to like hugging a little too much.
Rachel might have appeared an upright member of the community, but she wasn’t above cheating in the space hopper race. Looks like she’s walking to me…
Team 2 built a genuine pub from a bit of old newspaper and some leaves. Seriously crap, somehow they persuaded the judges they weren’t the worst.
John thought he would be handicapped by the pregnant woman. However he found that years of alcohol abuse and smoking actual makes you slower than a woman carrying a small child in her stomach.
After realising his strength was not in three legged races, space hopping or paper mache, John retired to the swimming pool to contemplate his life. His team meanwhile were elsewhere struggling with the next round.
Team 3’s version of Dover’s Mount Rushmore doesn’t come across well in a photo. Come to that it wasn’t much better in the flesh. The balloons were certain well-known Dover locals, and obviously looked nothing like them.
Al had no interest in even running the race, instead deriving some kinky pleasure from waxing Shirl’s legs with sellotape.
Shirl believed in team work. Telling them what to do built up such a thirst. They had to wait until they’d finished their work before they could get their hands on a ribena. Despite building the most engineering beauiful design it was pants as far as propelling the egg was concerned.
IF YOU CAN’T WIN, INVENT A NEW GAME
English sport is in the doldrums. Given we invented most of the sports played worldwide (excluding basketball but who plays that?) the only sure way to success is to invent a new one. This should guarantee the English team at least three years at the top before the French take it over and claim it for themselves. Thus it was that a new sport was invented in the week away. The rules were clear – no holding the spacehopper by the ears and…and that was it.
New rules were invented (no holding, nomauling,no kicking in sensitive places but discarded due to the short attention span of the players. Eventually the game ended in the usual way, with Chris winning. However this wasn’t before he had reached down under the water into Shirl’s shorts (no that isn’t the spacehopper’s ear Chris!). Worse was to come as his long finger nails drew blood from Alan’s back, resulting in a long spell in the dressing room as Fi sponged him dry and told him not to play with those rough lads (and lassies) again.
Having heard the shouts of “pull his shorts down” and the screams of delight, the owner of the house made a brief appearance to ensure that there wasn’t an orgy in full swing, but left disappointed. Still, no doubt when the sport catches on…
Suzie Spits Hate
Out of the mouth of babes comes sweet, gurgling, and affectionate little noises. Out of the mouth of Suzie comes visciously cruel put-downs and insults at a rate a Gatling gun would have been proud of. Starting with the “Looking a bit chunky this year Marts” we moved on to “Perhaps it’s the way your standing Al that makes you look lardy” and finally to “Chris, you’re too fat to have any chocolate – spit it out.”
He does stand funny though!
When the boys were down, a couple of well placed kicks in those overly large tummies proved particularly brutal. “Grey hair is definitely an old man thing”, and “He’s only a shop boy” are the only printable versions of what left the men quivering wrecks.
By the end of the week though a clever defence strategy had been formed. Consisting of shouting “We’re not paying for the rooms at your wedding, na-na-na-na” and running away, it worked splendidly well for all of three minutes.
Love’s Sweet Dream
Abounding with that first flush of love, John and Rachel lived very much in the adult cottage. However, things may not have been all as they seemed. Was the photo below evidence of their much vaunted bedroom activity, as Rachel reads an educational book and John…well what is he doing with that left hand of his?
Love is…a good book