Munch Bunch M.C.C.

" Get a life "

15 - 17 September 2000.

    Just for a change, the Munch Bunch decided to move their rally from the August bank holiday weekend to this weekend.  A change of venue was also ' forced ' upon them.  Combine this with a shortage of fuel, some of the worst weather for years, and just to make things even better, the rally was advertised as being cancelled in some of the magazines.
    Not to be outdone, I spent Thursday shifting petrol from the bikes into the trike, so by Friday afternoon I was ready for the off.  The new venue, the Stormy Petrel, was quite a few miles nearer than the ' old ' Walwyn Arms venue so I went and picked up Kim, who still has her leg in plaster, and hit the M 54.  Something didn't feel ' right ' with the trike's handling, and by the time I hit the A 41 I found the front tyre had gone down.  Luckily there was a garage a few hundred yards down the road so I un-hitched the caravan and went to blow the tyre up.  In true fashion, the tyre decided not to seat centrally on the rim.  Being ever resourceful, I bought some washing up liquid and coated the rim of the tyre.  That did the trick.  Having re-hitched the 'van we set off along the A 41 and into the rain.  Now rain and washing up liquid, when mixed, make lovely bubbles.  So there we were, barrelling down the main road with foam and bubbles blowing merrily from the front wheel.
The tyre stayed up just long enough for us to reach the Stormy Petrel.


The front wheel would have to wait until tomorrow morning.
    A grand total of four of us made the trip Friday night, so we settled in and then headed for the pub.  A pint of Banks's mild cost 1-73 - looked like being an evening of few beers.  To add insult to injury, the pub runs a Karaoke night on Fridays.  Now Karaoke, to me, is a most refined form of torture.  Take the most abysmal song you can think of, get someone who just can't sing, amplify the whole shooting match to a level where it becomes painful and then subject the audience to a cacophonic catastrophe.  Seeking escape, I headed to the marquee outside where the disco was set up.  The disco made the Karaoke seem quiet - but at least the songs were being performed by original artists as opposed to piss artists.  Truly a case of " the lesser of two evils ".

  Strange folks spotted in the pub. 

    Saturday morning saw a dazed bunch of folks milling around.  Two of our members, who may remain nameless, depending on how much they are willing to pay for my silence, managed to lose their clothing.  Well, lose their Moonshiners shirts no less.
    I whipped out the trike's front wheel and took it off for the puncture to be repaired, courtesy of Hooper from the Much Bunch.  Thanks mate, I owe you one.
A certain nameless person accompanied us in order to buy a new sweatshirt.  On our return, one missing club shirt turned up underneath the owners bed, and the  other one had been rescued by Kella { another Moonshiner who happened to spot the * missing * shirt in the pub }.  Have the Moonshiners no control over their clothing ?
    By Saturday evening a few more bodies had turned up, but nowhere near enough for the rally to break even.  This weather and fuel crisis has a lot to answer for.
    A strange apparition was seen wandering the field wearing nothing but a long black raincoat.  Cruel rumour has it that I was somehow involved in this " Mystery flasher " spotting.  I deny it all - have you any photographs ?  Can it be proved ?
    Kath managed to win a bottle of J.D. on the raffle.  Oh dear, I foresee a few hangovers tomorrow.  The proceeds of the raffle went to Mick, one of the Munch Bunch lads who was run off the road by a car driver who, after hitting the rear of Mick's bike, drove off.  Mick ended up with three out of four limbs in plaster but still managed to get to the rally.
    ' Our lot ' managed to win another couple of trophies - the " long distance
female " award going to Kath who managed a staggering 34 miles, and the " best trike " going to myself - who had the only trike at the rally.

    Sunday saw us packing up, in a leisurely sort of fashion.  The rain that had caused so much grief down South had missed us completely.  Quite  a warm sunny morning.
    One of the nameless persons appeared to be wearing odd boots.  Oops, now where can the other one be, and who does it belong to ?  Is this what drinking JD does to you ?  How did * that hat * get into * that tent * ?  These, and other questions, will remain unanswered . . . . . for the time being.
    Having sorted out our wandering clothes, the next stop was the cafe at Cosford for a nice greasy breakfast - and much piss taking !

    Despite various setbacks, the " Get a life " rally still went ahead.  I hope the Munch Bunch M.C.C. haven't lost too much money - I would hate for them to have to cancel next year's bash.  I don't know why more of ' our lot ' didn't come - possibly lack of petrol.
To Hooper - thanks for the lift into town with my rather flat front tyre.
To Mick - get those plasters off and get back on the road, soon as possible.
To the rest of " the Munchies " - cheers, catch you around.



Lone Wolf.

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