In the immortal words of Frank Sinatra, “a one, two , a one two three four”
Here we go again, are you a Saint or a Sinner?, who knows ?, I asked my dog, but she just looked at me with that wisened look that only dogs have and responded with a clearly articulated expression conveyed her profound
response, “Shut it and gie’s a biscuit ya nugget” .
A big ten years old is the “Nth Time Aroond” rally. Very popular it is too, selling out every year up to it’s limit.
This year was a special one off, ‘let’s let loadsa folk in’ rally, busy ?, yup !
er, can’t quite remember whit this was all about
Head for Aberdeen and stop
a bit short, then go left, ye cannae miss it.
So, what delictations did this particular festivity have in store for us
ne’erdo well rally goers ?
Let’s see, we had music, beer, dancin’, music, beer, games, bike show, music, beer, more beer and a packet of Jaffa cakes, which I have since learned not to proffer to people in a loud voice, well a leading Viz expert advised me of this, so it must be true.
“Roadrunner” and “Kong”, interspersed with the disco had the hall filled to capacity with a heaving atmosphere between which it was hard to get a fag paper in.
I had decided to carry out a highly scientific experiment at this rally. Having moved onto Guiness for a few rallies, just for a change y’know, I was accompanied by me old mate Mr Daniels who live at No7 Oblivion Terrace,
the result of the experiment was that er, erm well, it’s all a bit of a blur, drink, blether, laugh, drink, laugh, hassle Sparko for ‘shotties’ of his cool furry eared bunnet then chase Sharon aboot the hall when she nicked it from me. Get the picture ? Naw, well here’s a few photies, as the shopkeeper said, ‘Just to remind you’
Gordy works his Ferengi magic on Sharon
Paaahraaaayz deee loooaaaard
By the time the little bastard wi’ the shovel had caught me and spangled me with it, it was Saturday morning, midday or thereabouts.
The first folk I run into ?, vermin painters wi’ their talk of rubbing things down vigorously, that’s just what ye need wi eyes like piss ‘oles in the snow. But, I was not alone, for I saw many in a similar state, t’was indeed
or had in fact ‘been’ a good night all in,
The fact that other folk had to fill in the blanks for me definitely meant it must have been a good night. I blame all those dubious characters from the ‘Shed’, with strange and illicit alchoholic concotions.
Chris thought this was a hat, no, really !
Suits you sir !
By Saturday afternoon a fair number of bikes and trikes appeared to storm
the football pitch and have an improptu custom bike show.
Some very nice examples, particularly strange and interesting were the far
eastern imported OCC chopper copies with little 110cc engines. I hadn’t
come across these before but you can buy ’em here.
After the custom show, only DaveP’s refusal to put step away from the microphone meant that eventually teams were assembled for the ‘It’s a Knockout’ competition, considering there was a £100 cash prize Dave had to go on for a while 😉
The winners were the Blairgowrie Bike Club, as usual, like weans, a lot of effort goes into a highly orgnaised game, and what to folk do, find the simplest toy to play with,
A builders half ton bag, when tied to the back of Taffy’s Buell trike proved to be most entertaining, if not giving some folk very hot arses.
Crivvens, ah though ah wiz in Blackpool,
but naw it’s Chris’s new spaceship
‘Flint’ played a rousing yeharr set of Pogues and other Irish and Scots
numbers, meanwhile I was observiing Kenny being hand painted by two lassies
wi sponges and red body paint. He looked like he was fair enjoyin’ it.
They were at it for over forty minutes, but it was worth it when he appeared
over Davy’s head for the trophy presentations.
Dontchya know yooa momma done told you never ta do no deal wid no devil, he won’t make ye play that music no better
The second band, well they should have been the third band, but ‘Maelstrom’
commited the cardinal rally sin of pulling out at the last minute wi’some
pish excuse, anyway, the second band were ‘Buck Rodgers’ , ok so were they
named after a Feeder song, a forties black & white serial or a shitey
eighties series wi’ an annoying wee tin bastard thet used to say “beedee
beedee beedee fuck you Buck” a lot.
Thankfully……, “I’d missed and only taken it’s head off”, er,
ahem, harumph, cough, I mean the band were named after the Feeder song, and brilliant they were, tight as anything and playing more contemporary rock stuff and some old stuff too. The atmosphere in the hall was er, well, like big feckin party in a sauna, but without the Mazola.
There ye have it, the “10th Time Aroon”, highs ? , folk, bumpin’
intae old friends (some who had BIG news) and new, music, craic, beer .
lows ? ,just one really, the food vans, the club were let down badly, it’s
not the clubs fault that the vans were, well, mingin’ filthy with little or no grasp of basic food hygiene which was bad enough but short changin’ folk too, nah, avoid them like the plague they gave Sharon. Hope yer feelin’ better.
Thanks tae the Saints and Sinners for a great party, dinnae let DaveP near a microphone again 😉
Word & Pics, Al