Leslie Grantham, the erstwhile Dirty Den of Eastenders fame, was in a play at our local theatre.
One night he left his big posh car across the road on the well-lit car park. One assumes he'd had one over the eight and cadged a lift back to his hotel.

Come the morning when he arrived to collect it, he found it surrounded by fruit'n'veg and knicker stalls, having unwittingly left it on the market square. He couldn't move it until the market packed up.

The person who told me this story was a stallholder who saw it happen. Our Leslie was not best pleased!

She had a similar story herself: she'd sneaked onto a Devon field one summer evening, car full of kids and camping equipment, intending to stop for the night and then sneak off before the farmer caught her.

They were woken very early by a whoosh! Whoosh! noise. A hot air balloon was being inflated next to the tent!

They watched it take off, went back to sleep, and got up a few hours later to find a car boot sale in progress all around them. Oops.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 9:46, 1 reply)

A mate and I smoked ourselves unconscious at Glastonbury one year, and awoke to random strangers kicking us!
We quickly realised we'd passed out right in front of the pyramid stage, and that the mosh was forming for the first band of the day, resulting in people repeatedly tripping over us.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 9:52, closed)

It wasn't personal then!
That's a relief.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 9:59, closed)