Saturday, 26 September 2009

Carry On Camp Camping


Never before has a static caravan in the middle of Yorkshire seen such camp drunk shannigans, and having said that I don't think the small town of Ripon was ready for such limp wrists either.
Last Friday evening I turned up at Benjamin's (my best friend and fellow trolly dolly) doorstep with a bottle of vodka in tow, nothing unusual there, and was greated by Stephen (Ben's partner) and Sydney, the labrador. Now I would love to tell you more about the evening but as far as I'm concearned thats where it ended as I don't remember anything else, and I dread to think of what a tit I made of myself. Fast forward to the following morning I awoken to find two biscuit rappers stuck to my face and lying in a mountain of crumbs, I'm guessing Sydney planted them their as everyone knows I don't do carbs after five.
Fast forward six hours and the gang arrive in a lovely 1970's pink caravan along with Soumia (don't let the exotic name fool you, she's from Essex). After scoffing our faces with pizza and downing the best part of a harvest of wine we set off to sample the not so delightful night life of Ripon. Arriving in a bar, that wont be mentioned, only as I can't remember the name as I would gladly hope to shame it into a 60 Minute Makeover, we had a little look around to what was obviously an after show party for Jeremy Kyle. Downing a pint of Stella we made a quick getaway after I minced to the toilet and Ben feared the safety of my new Uggs.

Two doors down we arrived at The Unicorn, this time it was the after party for Countdown we gatecrashed. The drinks were cheap and the room was furnished in a lovely spectrum of pastel nitted jumpers. Moving on quickly we turned up at Ripons only nightclub, Matrix. Now I am almost certain I've seen the exact same nightclub in Benidorm, however at £1.50 a bottle we really didn't care, and as soon as Ben discovered the revolving dancefloor all inabitions were lost.

Now I'm 24 and have never been on a night out and been able to pull a girl until that night. It seems in Ripon the girls don't care if you've got more mince than Fred Elliot's Butchers, they are quite happy to take anything that passes them by, on the revolving dancefloor. Now I wasn't the only one to pull that night, although I didn't actually kiss the girl she just kept looking at me even if Soumia was convinced she was a lesbian, Ben broke a chavs heart. The young lady dressed head to toe in Reebok, as sports wear is the general dress code in Matrix, made a quick exit after flirting with Ben only to be told he once slept with Dale Winton. Further entertainment that night included Ben falling out a car window, but the less said about that the better, the only thing I will say is that if you even meet Stephen please ask him to make sure 'everything is securly stowed.'

Waking up to a bastard of a hangover on Sunday morning it was fry ups and glasses of wine all round as we find it's better to carry straight on instead of suffering the headache. The evening was spent watching X Factor and I provided the entertainment for the evening, admittidly more for my own amusement than anyone else's, repeating at least 30 times a less than tuneful version of Alicia Keys If I Ain't Got You. I only stopped once Stephen picked up the bread knife......

The rest of the trip passed by in a haze of Absolute vodka, I would love to tell you more about it, but I genuinely can't remember anything else, so I'll leave it up to the others to leave their comments................

1 comment:

Ben said...

Oh babe, you missed out so much, but unfortunately I can't remember exactly what as as you said, drink was the order of the day... as usual....
Next time, wel'll take another 10 people and get that van rockin!