Saturday wasn’t necessarily the best day to begin a period of sobriety because I had a wedding to attend but I reasoned that there’d always be an excuse if I wanted one and that really, it was as good as any other day.

The wedding was great, a nice big Sikh affair at a temple in Southall and after the reception (which was insanely alcoholic for something that finished at 6.30PM!) I drove home with Matt and Sam.

All of the tables at the reception had litre bottles of whisky and rum on them for the guests and one of these bottles made it back to PJ Towers where Sam and cookie destroyed it in very short order. Not long after about 9PM I had to eject them for being too rowdy, check the video out above, it was a top days entertainment.

If you’re wondering, I don’t really feel any more sprightly today than if I’d spent the weekend on the lash but I’m hoping that improves…

Nobody died.

Check out these three pumpkin heads.

Here you can see Samir and I taking cover like we were in the trenches

This conveys the size of the explosions quite well I think.

At this point we’d attracted the attention of most of the surrounding flats and had quite an audience.

A rocket goes up!

Boom!

The audience start to take cover, no balls that’s their problem.

It was just a couple of wayward missiles that’s all.

Everyone’s still alive.

Jack the Pumpkin King and now leading firework expert.

The first nights stop was only ninety minutes away so there was plenty of time for a quick stop en-route to allow Potter and Sean off the boat for a run to a local brewery, the 40 pint box of ale they returned with really looked the part on the back of the boat, just exactly in reach of whoever was on the rudder at the time.

It was going to be a good trip, and not long after the ale-run we moored up for the night and walked back along the towpath to a pub for some food.

Saturday morning I awoke to a silent boat and a medium sized hangover so I opened the back doors, got back in my bunk and watched the sun shining off the water for a while until the cool morning air inspired me to get up and contemplate getting the boat moving.

That’s another thing about barging – even if you’ve got 12 people on board like we had, a couple of early birders can get up and set off whilst the rest are in bed. Everyone on board seemed to fall into a role of their choosing, and about 20 minutes after Sean, Potter and I had set sail, brews and bacon butties started to arrive on deck. Brilliant.

Lapworth is famous for it’s locks and would be our second nights stop. We’d initially planned to moor at the top of the locks having been assured by the boat company that there wouldn’t be time to get there and get to the bottom of them all in one day…. Pah!

Never underestimate the power of a large team of drunken individuals. Especially those high on the sunshine from a lengthy stay outside a local cider house because on arrival at Lapworth top-lock we threw that bit of advice into the canal and went for it. This was despite being mocked by a local houseboat owner who also warned that we had four hours hard work ahead of us.

Nonsense. 21 locks and just over an hour and a half later we were mooring up. What a record! To the pub!

The return journey back up the locks on Sunday was a little less hectic due to the weakened state of the crew and in fact it did take us a little over four hours, mainly I must say due to a glut of other boats around the locks. 9AM is a popular starting time.

We made good efforts though and there was still time to meet Jens dad and Bal in a pub on the way and as the day progressed the crew got drunk again and spirits and energies were raised. This reached a peak when England won the ashes and I crashed the boat into a bush to the sound of Jerusalem being played out on testmatchsofa.com

Despite those delays we were still moored up and heading off up the towpath towards another pub an hour before the sun set.

The two mile long tunnel was a highlight on this return journey, Jens tunnel disco saw lots of dancing take place and far too many of Stephs rock ballads blaring out. Good times.

Surprisingly, out of all the evenings, Sunday night was the most debauched. LOADS of singing along to ipod classics, drinking games and even as I went to bed some cigar smoking on deck. James destroyed himself galactically and was the first one up on Monday morning throwing up as late as ten minutes before we dropped the boat off back at the marina. Classy!

I wondered if these few days might dampen the enthusiasm I’ve got for renting a houseboat when this current flat contract expires in December but it hasn’t. If anything it’s given me loads of ideas… more pictures on photos.fletch.cx :-)

About four or five stag do’s were out causing low level havoc, rocking each others punts and racing one another but surprisingly the only person we witnessed falling in was a standard member of the public out for a punt with his wife and child.

A huge cheer went up and we all looked round to witness this bloke in a blue shirt, jeans, shoes – the lot – clinging onto the side of a punt trying desperately to get back into it. He’d made the rookie error of getting his pole stuck on the riverbed and then compounded it by refusing to let go. This was indicated by a pole sticking out of the water about ten feet behind him.

Steves reaction was brilliant he was genuinely astounded – “but he’s just a dad!” he exclaimed almost with tears in his eyes, he was so utterly amazed that it wasn’t one of the stags that was in the water.

If you ever happen to go punting please take note that there is a point of no return once your pole gets stuck, a very small window exists where you’ve got the leverage to pull it out and rescue yourself because the punt won’t just stop and wait for you. Poor old “Wet Dad” as he became known, had never had this education and got unceremoniously yanked into the river.

His wife was quite unhappy but everyone else was well entertained particularly the stag-do from the midlands who were all dressed as scarecrows. Later their stag would be forced to join wet dad and do a lap of a punt in a borat man-kini.

Anyhow, after we’d drunk up and returned Bertha to her rightful dock we went on a pub crawl and I ordered a pizza that was so hot I thought I was having a heart attack.

Jen and myself camped out at Chez Flitton – impressing surely the whole of Longstanton with our pop-up tent – and then drove home on Sunday afternoon after a spot of lunch at Granchester with the gang.

Oh yeah, and on the way home we even had the energy to do a “big shop” at a giant Waitrose. The full set of pictures are in this set on flickr so get to it :)

These trips are all about the driving of course so there will be no stopping off at the boozy extravaganza but I have to say that the image I had of it being full of moustachioed beer bellies has just been blown out of the water!

Check out these young beer-lovers! All pics thanks to wiezn.de :-) (Which is German for OKTOBERFEST JA!)

All hail the fatherland, I’m moving to Germany. Sausage, beer and big busty blondes!

It’s that social side that stops people intentionally drink-driving rather than any punishment.

Aside from one or two characters, I don’t know anyone that goes out on the piss with the express intention of driving home but I do know plenty that get up the morning after a night on the lash and drive to work. This, it appears, is still socially accepted. Probably because “we’ve all done it” at some point.

Indeed, a few times I’ve spent a bit longer in the shower, had a bite to eat and a brew before heading to work, a little bit unsure whether I would be over the limit or not should I get pulled.

Anyhow, last night.. this happened… error.co.uk/greville.

Luckily, that’s not me in the picture it’s Grev and clearly he wasn’t stopped because we’d been to the pub but because he was on his phone! He made a call at the lights, drove off, had been on it about a minute, then got the blues and twos and pulled over.

“Were you making a 999 call sir?”
“No I wasn’t.”
“Got any points on your licence at the moment?”
“No..”
“Come with me then >:>”

Sixty-quid lighter and three points later we were on our way. I’ve done a bit of reading about being on your phone whilst driving and it’s generally accepted by anyone that’s ever done any research into it that being on your phone is even worse than being drunk. How is that?! I just can’t see it.

First off, I’m not advocating being on your phone and driving round central London, if you’re driving a car you should really have both hands on the wheel and be looking where you’re going. I just think that the law doesn’t reflect what the research states. If it did, being on your phone would result in a larger punishment. Is it a money maker? Incidentally he also wasn’t wearing his seatbelt but this was never mentioned.

Questions I demand an answer to:

1) How much alcohol is equivalent to using your phone? There’s no way that making a call is the equivalent of a Thursday night on the lash. One pint? Two pints? Four pints, two tequilas, three double-JDs and a Cobra in the curry-house?

2) If it’s worse than drink driving, why does it only net you 3 points and a £60 fine? Drink driving carries a minimum 12 month ban, up to a £5000 fine and max of three years in prison.

3) Why are smoking a cigarette, drinking a coke, chatting to a passenger, listening to a debate on the radio any worse than talking on the phone?

I appreciate that you can get done for driving without due care and attention for doing any number of things if it looks like you’re not concentrating but why make having a mobile phone in your hand a specific offence? Why not just crack down on shit drivers full stop?!

I think I need to devise an experiment and do some research myself! Watch this space. Anyone got a fake shop-display Nokia I can drive around with? :-) (I’M KIDDING!)

It’s not an official thing, just something the Servichays invented as a bit of a joint birthday celebration/excuse for a party :-) The final destination was The Barn and to start the day all guests met up in the morning (either London or Manchester) for cups of tea and then split off into teams to complete top-gear style challenges en route. South and North then convened at lunch just outside the Cotwalds and and did a treasurehunt towards the final desintation!

It was all in cars of course and the fletchmobile was competing for B-Road space with a 911, 730, Z3M, Z4M, a triumphg stag, fortwo brabus, a scoobie and loads of other machines – including a new M3 that turned up later with a carbon-fibre roof.

Anyhow fun times were had and after some rum drinking, throwing cookie in one of the beer-coolers (paddling pools) and the awards ceremony for the winning team we all camped out for the evening.

Touch of class.. see some of the pics below! Proper car pictures to follow :-)

May I introduce The Barlow Bar-Crawl – in celebration of Deirdre Barlows 54th Birthday!

Wonder how many deirdres will be waking up on Saturday morning with strained neck muscles?

“On Friday 20th June at 7.30pm – we will all gather in Exchange Square, Manchester City Centre (where the big wheel is). Boys MUST be dressed as Ken and Girls MUST be dressed as Deirdre!!!”
Galaxy Manchester

So after breakfasting, having a shower and even a shave I went to put my only clean suit on and it didn’t even fit. I mean it properly didn’t go on, couldn’t even fasten the trousers.

What a fat twat.

I’ll keep you updated!

Check out the pictures in the gallery!

I remember lots of fake snow and sprouts being banded about as well as lots of booze. Most of the onlookers wanted to know what we were protesting against and I have to confess that after explaining the premise behind santacon for the third time I just gave up and started telling everyone we were Fathers for Justice.

Five Double Gins!
Four Smirnoff Ice,
Three real-ales,
Two rum and cokes,
and a lager for 99p!

After a tour around some of Londons sights we all gathered at the base of Nelsons Column and sang altered christmas carols and basked in the collective joy that was a load of drunks having a right old good time.

Here’s to next year (raises mince pie) – Cheers!

Edit: Rogue Elf Blamed For Rude Xmas Post Shocker!