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Sober Up The Dragon,why bother, he'll only get drunk again!

Annie and ‘Bloggs’ from the Border Reivers


  After the music was over it was out into the cool night air to have somthin’ tae eat and a coffee before wandering and bletherin’ into the wee small hours.

Cheap bar means, er, lots of falling over?






Friday Luncheon was kindly provided by Nige and Dom of the NuttyBikers from Aberdeen, just back from a tour of Europe they were demonstating best club turnout. Friday night’s entertainment, musically, that is, was provided by Solow, Everlasting gobstoppers, The 4 Kinells and Sticky fingers. I, like many others only entered the marquee as the sun was going down which was when sticky fingers came on. They gave a good account of the ‘usual’ covers and the crowd were in fine fettle. At this point my old friend and confidante “coherence” had decided to leave me, cans at a pound and Jack cheaper than my local led me into that ‘interesting’ territory of ‘stoatin’ aboot’ bletherin’ and pointing me camera at anything that moved, or didn’t in some cases their unique blend of culinery pyrotechnics, flamed battered ‘carbon look’ sausages and chicken, yummy. Naw really, I like my sossyboys burnt, I do it at home 😉 Repetitive as it may be I need to mention the weather. Having checked the telly and the web, looking for someone who’d give a better account I discovered on the day that, they are all liars, we knew that. The sun was erm, blistering, bilin’, ‘kin hot etc. The bad forecast with 60% chance of rain was of course bollocks. But who was complaining. By the end of the weekend I’d been temporarily christened ‘Lobster Chops’ due to my effervescent glow from my crispy red face. A sort of red version of Nige and Dom’s sausages. Off for a wander we came across mates from the Border Reivers, Northumberland Bikers (Skida “Limall”, more of which later), Clyde Valley and about six million Saints and Sinners, guess who wanted


’tis that time of year again, to run the gauntlet of the A68 speed cameras again to attend the Dragonslayers 7th Sober Up The Dragon Rally. I didn’t see many folk who were sober right enough. This is the second visit to this rally, it was a new site this year on the other side of the valley from the previous site of much slopeyness, this site was just a gentle incline, not enough to have you wake up in a pile at the bottom of yer tent. Having Friday off and being eager to go, Stevie and I set off early, leaving Annie and Lesley aka Thelma and Louise to follow later. It’s always good for a few yarns when the lassies travel themselves, e.g. not having folk to follow they kind of maybe erm forgot that you really need to put petrol in yer bike, diverting to Corebridge running of fumes, it must’ve been that vindaloo they had on Thursday night, bamboozeling the poor petrol station attendant who was patiently trying to describe how to get out of Corebridge to Castleside. Forgetting top rally tip No 3776, i.e. make sure yer panniers are clear of the exhausts ‘Thelma and Louise’ arrived accompanied by a rather pungent and curious odour, not the vindaloo again, no the pannier has a bad dose of “burned the arse oot of”. Luckily Lesley’s a person of the “arse is nearer the ground” persuasion hence a bungee around the affected part (of the sleeping bag) sorted it out.

Stevie reckons if ye wear it like a lifejacket it’ll be ok




Click Here For The Next Page Suitably fed, off back to the site up the long hill in the blistering heat. Saturday afternoon entertainment was provided by the “Blood Brothers”, more of whom on the next page. Kev asked if I would judge the bikes with him and Mel, who was covering the rally for BSH. There were good examples of every kind of bike genre, a very tidy Triton which although didn’t win best classic was definitely worth a mention. Perhaps there should be awards for ‘ingenuity’ or best trailer. I liked the coffin trailer and the wee SS50 thing that was scootin’ about the site all day. The trike with the upright tin bin for a top box made me laugh too.


‘kin ‘ell how did THAT get up me nose?!


Saturday, 07:30am, aaargh 3 hour’s sleep, tent like the inside of a volcano, crawl out and it’s a brilliant day again, save for the thumpin’ in my head and the droppings of the badger that had curled in and died in me gob. Uuuurgh, coffee, stagger stagger crawl crawl to the burger van, next year Kev get some more food vans or better still just get a dairy tanker and fill it with coffee, oh and boxes of ‘sore hied’ pills. The food van surrounded by lots of bedraggled folk, everyone I spoke to declared it a ‘kin brilliant night’. Having reached a state of semi compus mentusness it was the obligatory stagger off to the sleepy rural hamlet of Lanchester. Helpfully the sign at the gate indicated that the King’s Head pub was no longer ‘biker friendly’ due to a change of ownership to dim folk who don’t want bikers. “fuck ’em” The queens head was doing a roaring trade, the beer garden was full. Some, I presume, rally virgins were “gettin’ it” in the beer garden although they looked a bit long in the tooth to be rally virgins  


It’s always hard to judge bikes when there isn’t a formal show, i.e. with information sheets. Which ones have been bought in their present condition, which are “cheque book specials”, who has spent every waking hour in the shed going hungry to build their dream beasty. The results are on page four.

oh ya bastaaaaaaaaard, careful wi that green knob slicer

Smashin’ his brick

Just dinnae do it on a full stomach

A wee laddie shows him a new trick he learned at school

Ooooh, the ol’ Icepick in the Hied action, I haven’t seen that since for at least twenty years, well not since I stopped drinkin’ in Glasgow

The ol’ chewin’ a razorblade routine


The guy’s who knocked seven shade of shit oot o’ each other couldn’t be here this year, so Kev came up with some replacement Saturday afternoon entertainment. The Blood Brothers are Cornelius Gold and Sebastian Silver. Couple of nutters if ye ask me, sort of slapstick Jim Rose. As a large crowd gathered they proceed to stab themselves, bang sharp object into each other and generally do ‘orrible but highly entertaining things to one another. Watching the audience it was the adults who were cringing, the kids all thought it was hysterically funny.

So impressed were the Blood Brother they decided to learn it themselves

The Blood Brothers are at www.thebloodbrothers.co.uk

For when you’ve got to get every last muthafeckin bogey oot o’ yer nose, Black and Decker, accept no substitute

Breakin’ little girl’s heads with a 4lb mash hammer was takin’ it a bit far, I mean a 2lb club would’ve done just as good at half the price





Every schoolboy’s dream, blowin’ fire and lightin’ yer own farts at the same time, ‘s bound tae impress the girls