Wedg1e
They call me Mr. Bodge-angles
- Messages
- 7,768
- Location
- Teesside, England
I've only ever had one doner (donor?) kebab in my life: out of a greasy hole in Calais (some might argue that's the whole of Calais) back in '08 when we'd driven down to join the Home 2 Rome banger rally which started from the docks.
By the time we got off the Chunnel, found the hotel where the organisers were camped and signed in, it was getting a bit Clapton (late in the evening
) so we found our Formule 1 hovel - sorry, hotel - and then went off in search of sustenance.
Literally the only emporium we could find open was Sinbad's Choke'n'Puke. The three of us duly ordered some mystery meat wrapped in what appeared to be wet MDF and repaired to the car park, where we fired up the Quattro - OK, it was only a standard Coupe - and set off back in the general direction of the F1.
After about 100 yards one of the guys pronounced that there was no way in hell those kebabs were making it back to the hotel, so we parked up and with all the windows (er, both of them) wide open we proceeded to devour... munch... ok, nibble delicately at what, we finally decided, could only be described as a hippo's afterbirth.
None of us got anywhere near finishing the stuff before the remnants (i.e. most of it) were discarded in a bin, much to the delight of a pack of mangy dogs that were prowling.
We retired to our honeymoon suite in the F1, which had that peculiar arrangement of a double bed with a single bunk mounted at right angles on the wall above it. Iain, who'd made the booking, claimed the single, leaving Neal and myself to cuddle up in the double.
Next morning we all looked like death warmed up. Despite brushing my teeth 4 times in the communal bathroom my mouth still tasted like the inside of a Russian lady weightlifter's period pants.
We got back in the car and went off in search of coffee and croissants, and as we sat at the rally start line I commented that I'd had a shocking night's sleep as one of the other two buggers was snoring all night.
That's funny, said Neal, I hardly slept, because one of you two gits was snoring all night.
Now you come to mention it, said Iain, I hardly slept a wink as one of you two b45t4rd5 was snoring all night.
The only valid conclusion was that the concierge clearly hated the British and was playing a tape of snoring through the public address system.
We could still smell the bloody kebabs when we got to Monte Carlo.
By the time we got off the Chunnel, found the hotel where the organisers were camped and signed in, it was getting a bit Clapton (late in the evening
) so we found our Formule 1 hovel - sorry, hotel - and then went off in search of sustenance.Literally the only emporium we could find open was Sinbad's Choke'n'Puke. The three of us duly ordered some mystery meat wrapped in what appeared to be wet MDF and repaired to the car park, where we fired up the Quattro - OK, it was only a standard Coupe - and set off back in the general direction of the F1.
After about 100 yards one of the guys pronounced that there was no way in hell those kebabs were making it back to the hotel, so we parked up and with all the windows (er, both of them) wide open we proceeded to devour... munch... ok, nibble delicately at what, we finally decided, could only be described as a hippo's afterbirth.
None of us got anywhere near finishing the stuff before the remnants (i.e. most of it) were discarded in a bin, much to the delight of a pack of mangy dogs that were prowling.
We retired to our honeymoon suite in the F1, which had that peculiar arrangement of a double bed with a single bunk mounted at right angles on the wall above it. Iain, who'd made the booking, claimed the single, leaving Neal and myself to cuddle up in the double.
Next morning we all looked like death warmed up. Despite brushing my teeth 4 times in the communal bathroom my mouth still tasted like the inside of a Russian lady weightlifter's period pants.
We got back in the car and went off in search of coffee and croissants, and as we sat at the rally start line I commented that I'd had a shocking night's sleep as one of the other two buggers was snoring all night.
That's funny, said Neal, I hardly slept, because one of you two gits was snoring all night.
Now you come to mention it, said Iain, I hardly slept a wink as one of you two b45t4rd5 was snoring all night.
The only valid conclusion was that the concierge clearly hated the British and was playing a tape of snoring through the public address system.
We could still smell the bloody kebabs when we got to Monte Carlo.
