The Stag

To start with we sent PJ up in a microlight...

...and of course he spent hours posing around in shades and flying suit despite the heat.

Later that same (extremely hot) day we all wrapped up nice and warm in full leathers and prepared for the motorway.

PJ was equipped with the fist of fury (complete with radio controlled middle finger), and luxury comedy knockers.

After I'd crashed my bike, and we'd all been sweating in full leathers for 9 hours we returned to the hotel to get changed. Somebody was quite a grumpy little bunny when they found what their clothes had been replaced with.

Chris soon put the smile back on his little face...

...and even offered a small carrot as refreshment.

Soon he was a happy little bunny once more.

I think I've just realised why he wouldn't put his gloves back on that evening.

The luxurious residents' lounge was sooooo exciting...

Chris was first down for breakfast the next day, and for some reason, when PJ ordered a full english, all he got was a raw carrot.

Chris showed us how to avoid suffering the curse of PJ.

Later that day we found some beautiful scenery

and ruined it.

Here's a sight which should be very familiar to anyone who's worked with PJ.

Back at the hotel, whenever PJ appeared all his little friends wanted him to play...

...which was handy as they helped Adrian and Chris blow up (...) the dinghy.

Bless him, Peej even helped us carry the dinghy and rucksack down to the pool...

...which we were all very happy about.

There were no oars, so we promised to hold onto the bow rope for Peej.

There is no way to explain how funny it was when the first banger went off...

...or the second...

...he was out there for half an hour whilst it went dark and we pelted him continually...

...eventually blowing the bottom out of the dinghy.

We had to let him in, as the suit was a bit heavy when wet.

And that was just as well, 'cos when we put the final firework in the dinghy and pushed it out, this is what it did to it.

And then the police came, and we had to go back to the hotel, where Mr Bun had to lie down

We had to leave the beergarden as we were being noisy, so we went back to the salubrious residents' lounge.

Which we were asked to leave for being too noisy. So having decided that the police would be gone by now we organised an enormous bonfire by the side of the pool...

...which we all topped up at some point. PJ really couldn't understand later on why we wouldn't drink a pint of it with him.

Someone shouted "police" at some point, so the bonfire was kicked out. Adrian decided that to be extra safe, he'd better lie down on it.

And over here, but I can't remember why.

The following morning we realised just what a mess the dinghy had left when it disintegrated.

There was only one way to clean up. Mountain streams are cold.

Mr Bun spent the next day hanging around in the sun.

All that was left was for us to pack up the dinghy,

get made up for the return journey, and go home.

Do you think motorbikes grow to look like their owners? (I hope not in my case.)

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