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This is a question Fairgrounds, theme parks, circuses and carnivals

Tell us about the time the fairground came to town and you were sick in a hedge; or when you went to a theme park or circus and were sick in a hedge

Suggested by mariam67

(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 11:37)
Pages: Popular, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Didnt vom in a hedge...but blood...fucking loads of blood!
Barry Butlins, late 80's early 90's. They used to have a "death slide" there...basically one of the ones with a slow start then a rapid vertical drop that makes your arsehole fall out of your trousers. On this particular day in question i never get to ride the bastard. My brother, as usual decides he wants to go first, sits down, prepares himself, lays back and...whoosh hes gone. He reaches the bottom and he's covered in claret, and his head is pissing blood like he's butchered and his ear is hanging on by about one centimetre of flesh. The old man runs over and kicks off about the saftey of the rides and all hell breaks loose. Dad hits someone, police are called, piles of employee's are trying to replicate what has happened by using the slide over and over. Police take statements and my bro's off to the hospital.

The ride was closed for the rest of the day...all because the stupid fuck-nugget! turned his head to the left as he slid down and the friction from the slide near enough tore his ear from the side of his head...and i wanted a go on the slide...selfish fucker!
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 10:49, 2 replies)
Once went to a fair..
..as I walked by the clairvoyant's tent I noticed a sign saying "Please ring for an appointment..."
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 10:05, 17 replies)
Flamin'
Once, when I was very young, my Dad took me to the fair. I encountered three things for the first time that day: candyfloss, dodgems, and raw, unadulterated terror.

I wasn't particularly enjoying the dodgems. My dad had the controls, and was driving altogether too erratically for my liking. What was worse was that there were some other people on the rink whose skills were even less disciplined; in fact, they seemed determined to crash into us at great speed. My rather earnest seven-year-old mind had difficulty accommodating this phenomenon. I clung on, and waited for the ride to be over.

It was over quicker than anyone expected.

There was a crash as one of the other cars slammed into us. Then there was a bang, and sparks flew. And then there was smoke. To this day I don't know what's under the bonnet of a dodgem; but whatever it is, it was, on that occasion, on fire. Dad and I scrambled out as an attendant ran across the rink to try to put out the flames. I was not a happy child.

Yep: my first encounter with a dodgem turned out to be an encounter with an exploding dodgem. It was years before I went back on one.
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 9:57, 2 replies)
The winner.
My Father was an engineer in Yorkshire in the 70s. He was renowned in the local area for being a jack of all trades but still specialised in two things - circuit components for amusement park machines and belly buttons for cars (fuck off).

He was married to a mono-breasted woman named Nigel (not my mother) who the family and all his friends hated but he married nonetheless. After three years of marriage and her stealing all his money she filed for divorce on the basis that it was a loveless marriage and he was having an affair. It went to court as my Dad was stupid enough to marry a one titted troll but not lose everything to one and he ended up winning the court case. The judge ruled that he had fair grounds for circuits and car navels.

Boom.
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 9:48, 6 replies)
Some years ago...
I went to Universal Studios in Orlando. My abiding memory of this time was of all the monumentally obese people being pushed around in wheelchairs because they were too fat too walk. All of them, without fail, had a little bottle of water with an electric fan attached that sprayed a fine mist when you squeezed the trigger.And all the time we patiently waited in the queues to get on our chosen rides we could see heffalumps hogging all the shady bits while they waited for little Rocky and Mary-Lou to go on the coasters.
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 9:19, 2 replies)
Dragged my 4 young kids across town, on foot, on a boiling hot day many years ago to the local park fete.
I'd heard that there was a massive merry-go-round there and as my kids had never seen a real one I knew they'd be amazed.

They were flagging a bit until we'd dragged ourselves up the last hill and suddenly came to it.

They stopped dead in their tracks and the eldest, who was about 9 or 10, was so overcome that she screamed 'MERRY GO ROUND!' at the top of her voice. Magic!
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 9:03, 2 replies)
Bumper cars
When I was about 7 I went on the bumper cars, or 'dodgems' as some idiots call them, at the local pikey funfair with my dad. Being far too small for this sort of thing an inevitable head-on collision caused me to fly forward and smash my face on the steering wheel, resulting in a massive nosebleed and lots of crying. I didn't get to go on any more rides that day.
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 8:57, 3 replies)
Two in a row.
At Blackpool pleasure beach my mate asked me if I was "coming in the log flume".
Much hilarity ensued.
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 8:28, 8 replies)
There was a huge circus in Aberdeen some years back.
I think it was a Russian one. Anyway, the shop I worked in got a batch of free tickets for displaying posters so the g/f and I went along. It was fantastic!
Her mum owned a pet shop so we got another batch of free tickets and went again that week.
We went a third time with her little sister and my little brother as a treat for them.
Standing in the queue I got speaking to one of the ushers, telling him this was the 3rd visit, how much we enjoyed it etc. He spoke for a while about the circus, where they were headed next etc and then we went to out chairs in the front row of the outer circle. Just behind the ringside seats.
Halfway through the show there came running out a bunch of clowns, all chasing each other with buckets of coloured foam. One ran out into the crowd closely followed by another 2.
Laughing and watching the clown run off I turned my head back round to the ring and {{{SPLAT!!!}}}
A massive paintbrush of foam in my face. I could only cough and splutter as the usher from earlier, now dressed as a clown, slowly pasted my face while the kids, g/f and crowd pissed themselves laughing.
I laughed my nuts off and the clowns came up and shook my hand for taking it so well. Then the Oriental contortionist/hula-hoop girl in the skin-tight catsuit came up and gave me a towel while my g/f tried to scowl her to death.
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 8:04, 3 replies)
My sister and nephew
Came to visit me when I was a student in the fair city of Stirling. I took them to the obligatory visit to Stirling Castle, and we walked from the town centre to the top of the hill upon which the castle looms. My nephew was only five at the time, and found this rather a trek. My sister and I kept encouraging him saying "We'll soon be there!" and "You'll see the castle soon!" and "It's an amazing castle, you'll love it!"

When we got to the top of the hill, you see the great courtyard and behind that the restored splendour of the castle itself, with its eleborate facade with gargoyles and sinister looking mythical creatures. My nephew burst into tears.

"Oh, oh, what's wrong?" I asked, all concerned.

Sobs, tears. "I THOUGHT IT WAS A BOUNCY CASTLE!"
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 3:13, 4 replies)
Lemonentry's dodgems story brought back my earliest, very traumatic fairground memory, gee, thanks, Pal!
As a very small child I was taken onto the dodgems, or the Bumper Cars as they are uniquely known in my home town. Think I was accompanied by a much older sister.

There was a seatbelt to wear but as it was just a loop of webbing hanging over the seat and would have suspended me by my armpits we didn't use it.

We were immediately hit from behind and I flew forward and landed on my forehead on the metal front-wheel casing. Can't have been knocked out as I remember it all but it darned well hurt.
(, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 0:08, 12 replies)
carny for a day
I worked for a genuine pikey. Not someone who wears cheap clothes and uses common phrases; a lady whose parents were travelling showmen, proper ones who didn't pay road tax and lived in caravans. She, however, had settled down and lived in a real (pre-fab) house on a plot of land the family had bought. So they were respectable, and God forbid you if you thought they weren't.

From 15-18 I worked for her in the school holidays at village fetes, selling burgers, running a little kiddies ride and doing the tombola. The tombola was very simple. Tickets in a washing up bowl, and you buy five for a quid. Any odd number wins a teddy bear of some description.

There were only even numbers in the bowl. If someone had spent a few pounds, or no-one had won for a while, I would "give the tickets a shuffle", stick my hands in the pile, and palm one of the odd numbers I had up my sleeve onto the top and in the middle. The deserving punter would almost always pick the right one out.

I think people thought the proceeds were going to some village charity.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 23:51, 8 replies)
When I was but a lad (probably about 10)
I went to the Southport funfair, which I think is gone now. Now for those who don't know (or don't care) the largest ride was the TraumaTizer, and it was one of those rides where you are suspended from an overhead beam and have to wear a great big harness (this comes into play later).

All my friends were going on it, so to not look like a complete pansy, I went ahead, even though this was the first rollercoaster I had been on.

Oh fuck.

The sheer force of that ride was so unexpected and so large, it caused me to gnaw the inside of my lower lip with my top row of teeth, cushioned nicely by the ROCK-SOLID harness. I was a mess. A total mess. All the inside of my mouth was full of bright red life-juice, not to mention I also vomited.

Because at heart, I AM a complete pansy.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 22:12, 10 replies)
The former Mr Quar, a high school teacher, was off to accompany the 5th form on their annual Alton Towers trip.
I said 'It's July. You'll need to wear jeans, not shorts, and a hat, or you'll get really bad sunburn.'

Pah, said he, what do you know, woman! and set off with his tasteful Bemudas and balding pate. Next time we met, the genius was in bed with sunstroke. Oh, how I laughed.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 20:32, 1 reply)
First time on the dodgems age 10
Exchanged my 50p for a token and jumped in the car, instructed by the bloke running the ride. "That one'll make yer faster, that one'll slow ye down, and ye steer with that wheel" he said, whilst waving his hand at the controls.

Pushing the token into the slot, I didn't realise I had my foot jammed down on the accelerator pedal. The token dropped, and off I shot, straight across the rink, bouncing off a few cars and coming to an abrupt halt on the other side as, in turn, the car hit the barrier, and my face hit the steering wheel.

Luckily my dad was on hand to see the moment of impact and came over just in time to see blood pouring out of the my face where I'd bitted straight through my lower lip and smashed my two incisors to bits.

Off to the emergency dentist we go. "Can't use anaesthetic" he said, "The nerves are exposed" or somesuch excuse. So I had temporary plastic caps effectively welded onto my broken teeth to protect them, with no drugs to take the edge off. Fucking hurt like five bastards.

Still, got a coupla grand compensation off the fair 8 years later; it was actually sorted out not too long after the accident, but was locked away in a court fund till I turned 18.

edit: should probably add that the reason I got compo was because there was a seatbelt in the car, but hadn't been shown to me; I was blissfully unaware of it until it was raised later.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 20:17, 3 replies)
The chipper
were I live used to have a tiny fairground attached. This included an arcade from the 1980's, some swingboats and the automated fancy pants swingchairs.

Now, the young Daz loved these chairs, the wind in his curly locks as he was raised horizontally when the chairs would be spun around. However, this love lasted to an age that was probably unsafe for wee Daz to use said chairs.

As it turned out the chairs final swing would also be Daz's. The summer festival after a long queue in blistering heat young Daz climbed into the chair. As the chairs began to rise so did the children's screams of joys. Suddenly one of the steel poles connecting my chair to the swing snapped.

Daz did no longer have a scream of joy. Unfortunately neither Daz's screams or the faint smell of Daz's fearpiss alerted the ride operator to my swing flight of terror as I was thrown dizzily around fantasizing about being thrown into the middle of the village green.

Eventually one of the parents alerted the operator and I prised away from the remaining pole. I didn't even notice I had pissed myself until I got home 10 mins later....
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 20:01, 2 replies)
I was at Blackpool Pleasure Beach
with my now ex. We were on the really old rickety big dipper. She was a 36E cup and her bangers wobbled a good 'un. Best fairground ride ever.

That same eve, I did verily spaff on said norks.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 19:17, 11 replies)
The 'Side Kick' is dangerous yet they still have it every year...
A kid got flung out of it so the fair (being a gypsy one i think)buggered off early that year, but the next time they came back they still had that ride. They still bring it every year so last time it came me and my friends thought we'd have a go. (i'm far from being skinny so i wasn't worried) Except this year they'd got rid of the baskets what you could put you stuff in so my friend had to bring her handbag on with her but she forgot to bloody fasten it so each time it went up various items came out of her handbag and had to be caught on their way back down... by the end of the ride i had her camera and phone, she had her purse and a pair of tights on her head and everything else had been flung anywhere within a 5 meter radius of the ride.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 19:12, Reply)
I've been on one roller coaster in my life
and I'm no hurry to go on another one!
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 18:33, 6 replies)
I hate roller coasters. All of them.
I don't do well on them; I get disoriented almost immediately and tend to stay that way for a while after, and if I'm lucky there is no throwing up as well. But there we were, at a fair. It was only a small roller coaster, hardly even worth wanting to vom at the sight of it. My husband really, really wanted a go on it, and since he'd been so accommodating of my want to see the prize chickens, top cakes and winning sheep, I agreed. Been decades since the last, after all. It was the first ride we tried. . . .

The little kids standing nearby, trying to decide how to use their remaining tickets, were awfully pleased when they received our near-full ticket sheet and wondered at why grown-ups would be going home so early in the day.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 18:21, Reply)
Mirth and pity in equal measures
Many years ago a group of us went to the annual fair in Beaconsfield. One of the "big" rides there was one of those spinning rides where you are all sat in seats in a circle facing inwards with your feet dangling free, it then spins and rises on an large arm. Anyway, as I get on, a group of loud mouthed girls get on as well acting all Jenny Big Boobs (is that the female equivalent of Johnny Big Bollocks? if not, it is now!). Unfortunately one of the more rotund girls does not fit the seat and she only finds this out when she tries to drop the harness and it doesn't lock. Cue the ride operator trying to jam the harness down over her Gunt repeatedly, to no avail. If this wasn't awkward enough he makes her try out three different seats, the last of which was next to me. The sound of her wheezing as the guy repeatedly forced the harness down will stay with me forever. By this point, everyone on the ride was doing their best to stifle their laughter. The moment was only topped by her finally stomping off saying "didn't want to go on your shit ride anyway"
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 17:22, 5 replies)
The girl with the polka-dot knickers
As if Pleasure Island didn't sound enough like a lap-dancing club, the recently-defunct theme park of the same name in Cleethorpes has a long and erotic past. No funnies, no puns.

Four of us were celebrating our study leave at the end of our first year at sixth-form and because I'd recently passed my test, we took my elderly Austin Metro Vanden Plas (with the walnut trim and the sunroof. No, really) for a short trip down the M180 to Cleethorpes. Taking it any further wasn't a realistic proposition given that it had more holes in the floor than Fred Flintstone's motor.

Our pervy 17-year-old eyes were soon drawn to a party of buxom Year 11s on a school trip from a Grimsby school, and in particular a group of three girls who had clearly had an illicit tipple or two before coming out. Short of following them about with our tongues out, we did keep a discrete distance and occasionally hazarded a little wave and a smile. Sizing up one each, naturally, no-one wanted to be the odd-one out. Realistic about my own chances (I wasn't the best looking of our group, but I was the one with the car!), I started smiling at the third-prettiest of the girls, the one with the high cheekbones and braces.

Infuriatingly, in the manner of pretty girls everywhere, they led us a merry dance, until the waltzing teacups ride. Ah, the wonderful teacups. I don't think I need to describe in detail how difficult it is to keep your modesty on a spinning, up-and-down ride while wearing a school skirt. And, let's face it, these girls had decided not even to try. We all had a glimpse of a fair eyeful - my mate Andy was overjoyed to find his intended belle was wearing lacy black panties which were see-through enough for a glance of bush. And my braces-wearing sweetheart? Dark blue knickers with white polka-dots: a combination that still breaks me out in a cold sweat today. It's difficult to describe how enormously great it was at every revolution of the whirling cups, to see her raise her eyebrows at me, flash a metallic grin, and twitch the pleats of her skirt up to reveal the longed-for glimpse of gusset, then dissolve into fits of girlish giggling with her friends, who had all done the same.

Miraculously, we managed to break this saucy little trio away from the school party and take them for a long walk in the dunes, where Emily's (for 'twas her name) braces got a thorough examination, and the polka-dots were removed. Admittedly, this was less my doing than her need to have a lengthy vodka-fuelled pee behind a bush, but much aroused by the whole affair, I did convince her that we should have a little - strictly 15-rated - roll in the sand afterwards; and most crucially, before she put them back on. The whole episode remains a lingering erotic memory in the filthy recesses of my mind, thanks to the fact I have rarely since found a woman so willing to flash me her pants (and indeed, let me watch her having a wee in the sand). Good times, good times.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 16:59, 4 replies)
Egg Cages, weed and strobe lights
It was the summer of 1994 Ė Bakewell fair was in town and it was as a good a time as any to get stoned and take Jenny on the egg cages.

Jenny had (probably still has) larger than was fair for age and shape boobies and in my out of phase state thought it only right that I should have a grope.

2 Mins into ride with cage upside down I seize my chance. Unfortunately since the strobe light started at the same time it acted as a kind of memory wipe so all I really remember is her pulling up her top at the end of the ride. Gutted

Lesson learned Ė donít take your once chance of a look at some boobies in a mind wipe situation

and keep away from strobe lights generally!
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 16:57, 2 replies)
Breakfast in a Cup
I've been lurking on these boards for years now, I've read countless hilarious anecdotes. This is my first post to QotW. Please be gentle.

A few years ago (ok more like 7 or 8 years ago) I was on a "round the country road trip" to watch Sunderland vs West Ham. I went with my then girlfriend and her Family. Being from London, it was deemed to far too drive in one day. So we elected to stop somewhere near Nottingham and then visit Alton Towers on the Sunday before heading back down Saaaarff.

Sunday morning in the Hotel, a glorious (rank) fried breakfast was consumed, then off to Alton Towers.

We arrive and straight away we head to Nemesis. At early o'clock there are no queues for said ride and well why wouldn't you go on the best ride first.

One of the members of the party was then GF's uncle, a guy we shall call Richard, as this was (and still is I believe) his name. Richard was suddenly very nervous and started saying things like "Think I'll just let you guys go on this one" & "I think I should just sit this one out". If he was a small child of 10 then I could understand the fear, but he was 42.

None of us were impressed by the new cowardice streak that Rich was showing. Instantly we were practically dragging him on to said ride and asking him why he wouldn't go on it.

Finally he admitted that he lives his life by a simple mathematical equation. It was "Legs Over Head == Sick".

After the initial laughter subsided we started pestering him with questions like, if he did a forwards roll? would he be sick? And what about a cartwheel?, What about a somersault on a trampoline? Eventually after much piss taking we all go on Nemesis, including a nervous Richard who could no longer be the butt of everyone's jokes.

Up, Down, Over, upsidedown, downsideup wooooosh.
A great ride on nemesis (at the time, it's a bit tame really)

Whilst waiting to disembark I looked over at Richard who had turned a shade or grey, not unlike John Major's puppet from Spitting Image. Gingerly he left the ride and wandered over to his misses who held out a cup of tea for him. Instantly the the cup was emptied into a hedge and poor Richard proved his theory correct.

He proceeded to chunder into the cup, his whole fried breakfast. The best bit of this was as he finished he put his finger to the side of his nose and blew out a whole button mushroom.

We were howling with laughter. Poor Rich though felt worse and worse and didn't go on anymore rides for the entire day. It still cracks me up that he paid all that money to go to Alton Towers and went on one ride, puked up and then spent the rest of the day feeling like he had just come out of a washing machine.

Apologies for length, but no apologies for girth.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 16:04, 17 replies)
Disneyland Los Angeles December 1999
Went on a flydrive with a mad woman and - as well as her 'losing' her driving licence a couple of weeks before we left, meaning I'd have to do all the driving and therefore me knackered most of the time (which meaning I was "the most boring person in the world", obviously), and once threatening to use her contacts with criminals (she worked a legal secretary) to have my legs broken, or worse, if I even considered leaving her to do her own thing just to have a break form one another, my main purpose on the holiday to be her chauffeur - she smoked like a chimney.

In California, smoking isn't especially welcomed in public places, even in the open air.

There was going to be a big fireworks display that night, so we stood more or less at the back of the area marked out for spectators. She's sparking up cigarette after cigarette and as other people began to file in, locals start doing the whole mock coughing and grumbling routine. One guy in particular, there with his wife and two small children, asked her (fairly politely) to stop smoking. Which she laughed at and ignored, so he said he'd go and get security. She took this really badly, and fumed in a different kind of way for the rest of the night.

As more and more people came, the ensuing crush meant that we ended up right at the back, with the family who'd threatened to tell on her for smoking in a non-smoking area immediately in front of us. I didn't even notice them - I was watching the (very impressive) fireworks. She noticed all right, though. As we walked back to the car, she was laughing hysterically.

When she calmed down enough to tell me what was so funny, she said she'd got her own back on "that bastard". How? She'd spent the whole hour and a half of the fireworks display spitting green smokers' phlegm down the back of his anorak.

You know that expression actors pull in horror films when they realise the fairly anodyne character standing next to or behind them is in fact the deranged killer? Well, that's what my face did. Oddly, when we got back to Blighty, we lost touch.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 16:01, Reply)
Eighties Freak show
Long, long time ago - back before political correctness - I went to a local fair along with some school mates for whom candyfloss and grimy-handed gyppos (sorry, travelling folk) represented the acme of leisure-time amusement. That, and the opportunity to be maimed by a poorly-maintained waltzer or a tunnel of love that electrocuted you half way through.

But this time it was different. They had what they called a Chamber of Abnormality - a freak show, basically. £1.50 to see Nature's abominations. If nothing else it'd be funny to see how fake it was.

The exhibits were not just laughably bad, but preposterously bad:

1) The Chicken Man - a gangly youth with a partially inflated pink rubber glove attached to the top of his head, a beak made from the neck of a toilet duck, and a feathered costume. The illusion of avian identity was perfect but for the fag in his mouth and a bored expression.

2) Double Jointed Girl - a prepubescent gyppo in a stained leotard who occasionally attempted to adopt the 'crab' position before toppling to the floor with a grunt. Watching this twenty or thirty times was both fascinating and deeply depressing.

3) The Fat Lady - a fat lady. Not obese exactly, but the kind of thing you see in the 'before' photographs.

4) The Sand Man - not exactly sure if I saw this one or not. There was a sand pit with a cat turd in it, but no indication of whether the Sand Man was literally the sand, or buried beneath it (or round the back having a piss).

5) The Man Who Eats Anything - a bit of a disappointment, this one, as he was surrounded by a team of paramedics rigging up a saline stomach pump as he convulsed on the ground.

6) Mimic Maid - a true wonder of the mimetic arts: a girl who can repeat any accent or voice tone after hearing it once. At least that's what it said on the poster. In fact, it was some scouse slapper who just repeated everything as if she were Sonia with learning difficulties. Oddly, she seemed happy to repeat the many insults directed at her.

7) The Human Yeti - a moderately, but by no means excessively, hairy man wearing clawed fancy-dress 'bear gloves' and growling every few minutes with the blood-curdling ferocity of a koala on opium.

8) Inside-Out Man - a fellow with a bucket of entrails tossed over him. I couldn't stay long becuase the flies were terrible and he insisted on attempting to push a large frankfurter sausage into some random animal organ saying "This is actually my anus, you know."

9) The World's Biggest Penis - a big draw among the girls, this turned out to be predictably disappointing. It was a man with his cock on a table surrounded by miniature objects (a Matchbox fire-engine, a Monopoly hotel, a Barbie comb etc) to create the amazing illusion that his knob was actually bigger than them all. In truth, it looked like a thawed Lidl sausage roll about two months past its use-by date.

10) Monkey Child - this was the most convicing of the lot, until I realised that the gurning, hair-covered imbecile I was looking at was actually the guy who ran the tent. The genuine Monkey Child was a teenage moron wearing a mohair sweater and eating a plastic banana.

Good old days, fondly forgotten.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 15:35, 24 replies)
The boy as a man.
Disneyland, Orlando. 1989. At a certain point in the day, if God was watching he would have found 15 year old me hiding in the 'facilities' wanking furiously after having just watched a stage show featuring Snow White.

I guess that's forgivable, I was 15.


Disneyland, Paris, 2006. At a certain point in the day, if God was watching he would have found 32 year old me hiding in the 'facilities' wanking furiously after having just watched the Tarzan show featuring a very athletic and barely dressed Jane.

That's less forgivable, really.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 15:33, 16 replies)
A theme park near the manor at Drayton
One of the kidsí rides was a bunch of four seater 1920ís Ant Hill Mob looking cars with a steering wheel on each seat. We harangued the operator to let us on as it was quiet and she looked bored. We promised we only wanted to try and have a go on everything in the park as a bet. As soon as the ride started however the poor girl was witness to a bunch of 16yr olds trundling round a zig-zag track at 1mph acting out an improvised obscenity strewn gun toting car chase road rage scene in slow motion.
I would like to say she found our antics massively crotch moistening and voraciously took our respective cherries, but in reality she just waited for the ride to run its course and just told us in no uncertain terms we were all fucking idiots. An accurate statement that seems to still fit the bill to this day.
(, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 15:26, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

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