Recovery Time

By 'eck that was fun. You can tell which members of the Bender Squad don't get out much. My word, you'd think one or two of 'em had never seen a pint before, the way that they went at it. That means you Mad Adam and Tony Helmet. Throw in a vintage display from the Funky Messiah, and the race for Le Grande Buffoon 2009 was turned on it's head. We got off to an early start Friday morning, but everything was fairly steady. In fact the first points of the day were scored by my good self. I got on our train, and began turfing people out of their seats, waving our reservations around. Boy did I blush, when it was pointed out we were in fact in the wrong carriage. Still this was nothing in comparison to what was witnessed later on our sojourn north of the border. The rest of the night was steady away, most of the lads took themselves off back to the hotel around 23:30, but myself, Lobon, Gregmondo and Funky stayed out till late. Apart from the piano player getting turfed out of a house party by somebody dressed as Andy Pandy, nothing much of note happened. this proved to be the calm before the storm.


The next day saw a few thick heads, but a couple of fellas were on a mission, and were soon joined by a third in Funky, and another in Luke, hence forth known as Jude. Helmet and Mad Ad began their day at 7:30 in the morning, downing lager in the Spiders Web, a pub across the road from our hotel. By the time I caught up with them in the Haymarket, they were clattered. By the time Crespo, Shotgun, JohnnyM and the Geester arrived, they were toast. It is difficult to convey just how drunk these two clowns were, or how Funky proceeded to catch them up, and in some ways surpass them. What follows are edited highlights.

Tony was in his patented "Worlds most obnoxious man" mode, and was haranguing all and sundry, whether he knew them or not. A Welsh group were the first to feel his wrath. I tell you, if they knew how soft he was, he'd have been in trouble. Next he decide to challenge Adam to a dance off, hip hop style. For those of you unfamiliar with with Mister Helmet, he is about as mobile as a fully laden oil tanker, and promptly took out several punters standing by the bar. By this stage, he was in need of somebody else as drunk as himself, so he roped in Mad Ad, by plying him with a drink known as a Monkey Brain. It is Baileys and black current, which doesn't sound to bad, but the combination causes the drink to congeal, so it is akin to swallowing mankey oysters. Of course half way through, he began to gip up what had already gone down, and exited toute suite, to the bathroom. A by now swaying Funky, decided to down what was left, spit back and all. At around this point, the terrible trio fell out.

With the two loudest temporarily side lined, the Messiah stepped into the breach. He ordered some food. When it came he loudly and rather rudely said of the waiter, "Where the salt and pepper?" The canny server looked him in the eye and pointed to the two shakers right next to his plate. "You mean those?" Classic Paul. The food seemed to have knocked our hero side ways briefly, things returned to normality. But it wasn't for long. The skint one's found some money, and the other got a second wind. Three times they were ejected form the Haymarket, always managing to find a side door to get back in, but one nearly came to serious grief. Helemt made some wise crack to wrong fella, who threatened to gouge off his face with a Glass. Luckily Big John and the good Doctor were there to calm the chap down, as Tony made himself scarce. This meant he needed to wind somebody else up, and it just happened to be me. I was enjoying a fine Chinese with Lobon and Geester, when there was a loud knocking on the window. He then decided to come and say hello, but I turned his sorry ass around and showed him the door. I have no doubt that the tom foolery continued unabated, but I can no longer comment, as the rest of us ditched them and headed into town. Don't feel sorry for them. The state they were in would have meant none of us getting into another bar, a fate that nearly befell us the night before. Come back Shouty. All is forgiven.

The next day, most of the lads made their way home with Alfonso, leaving me with Gregmondo, and three fellas who were a shadow of themselves from the previous night. Helmet was by far the worst casualty. I seriously considered ringing for an ambulance. He was grey, with blue lips, sweating and trembling. This was when he wasn't throwing up with the ferocity of a nuclear blast. He didn't drink for the rest of the day, or even smoke. The boy had given himself a hell of a scare, something he was more than ready to admit. You ain't a teenager no more big fella. It will be interesting to see just how long "New" tony lasts. Bet he leaves those sambucas alone for a while.

So that was our Bender around Edinburgh. It's a good town to have one in. The beer is cheap, and it's pretty easy to get around, and contrary to what you hear, they are pretty friendly the English. Apart from maybe Tony. I have printed a link to a gallery , click here to see, although I know there are more photos. Gregmondo has some, so if he can get me them, I will add. That goes for anybody who has any on their phone. See below for a revised Buffoon table. We have a clear leader, and with just three months to go, it will take quite an effort to topple the man at the summit.

1. Helmet 39 points
2. Shouty 27 points
3. Euro Bri 22 points
4. Funky 22 points
5. Mad Ad 21 points
   
6. Lefty 14 points
   
7. Crespo 14 points
8. Sprocket 9 points
   
9. Pembo 4 points
10. Dr Shotgun 2 points
11. G Spot 1 point