“You’ll be fine, just have a can of coke or something”
We shall return to that infamous line towards the end of this endearing parable. But first, let us bend space-time and take ourselves back to the Baiter Park fair in Poole, the summer1994.

Four intrepid young men, armed with many hard-earned (begged off parents) coins. Ready to throw money at any fairground ride we could find.

This turned out to be quite a few, most of them nauseating and a lot of fun. Six or seven rides later, we make our way to the wall of death. Here, the ride spins you around, pining you to the wall, as the floor drops away. Excellent fun. However, one of our ‘posse’, John, for that was/is his name, was feeling a little green.

It turns out, that in his haste to make the fair, John had snoffled quite a lot of BBQ at his parents in rapid time. Now this is when the immortal line comes into play. There was one last ride to go on. The name escapes me, but the memory of the ride never will.

John had his reservations about how long his stomach could hold out, before my other mate pipes up and says: “You’ll be fine, just have a can of coke or something.”

The requisite famous last words have now been set in stone.

The four of us clamber onto the ride, and we are the only four. The ride is made of four legs. At the end of each appendage is an encased box, with open sides. There are four seats in each box, with two on either side, facing each other.

The ride then turns, the arms undulate up and down and the boxes then begin to rotate. So imagine a broken washing machine, spinning around on a roundabout and you start to get the picture.

At first, things went quite well. There was lots of laughter, screaming and shouting. This all changed when John started to retch…

As I said, this whole ride had the effect of being inside a washing machine. If you add copious amounts of vomit into the mix, I think you start to see the picture.

It turns out that I don’t really like the smell of puked-up half digested meat and peppers. In fact, the smell has never left me since. John coated every one of us in this noxious mixture, which prompted dry retching and vomiting from the rest of us. Screams of joy warped into screams for help.

However, this was something the little pikey operating the ride was not akin to. Instead of stopping the ride, he decided to speed it up. I swear I could see his face light up as he could see the terror in our eyes.

The ride eventually ended. All John could repeat, as if in some sort of chunder-induced trance, was: “I’m sorry, so sorry.” The look of utter shame was enough for us though.

I managed to phone my dad in the end, telling him to bring bin bags and towels. Upon arriving, he pissed himself with laughter for five minutes, then bundled us, pants only, into the back of the car (it’s not what you’re thinking!)
(Deskbound You insignificant speck of dust, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 14:43, 6 replies)

Haha
Father dearest made your humiliation complete. The fairground attendant should have been disciplined or something
(muzzvsworld, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 14:56, closed)

Fat chance of that.

(The Luggage is haunted..., Thu 9 Jun 2011, 15:11, closed)

then bundled us, pants only, into the back of the car
click for that
(Clit Ninja is having a white space party!, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 9:05, closed)

then bundled into the back of the car
sounds suspiciously like an other story right there

this one time bundled in the back of a car wrapped in bin bags
etc etc etc
( fluffybunnykiller Is feasting on the clitoris of life, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 10:38, closed)

You blinded me with tears
so I clicked
(whiskas loved by 8 out of 10 cats, Sat 11 Jun 2011, 15:44, closed)

Fine story
Well told.

*click*
( Ugi , it's a game of give and cake, Mon 13 Jun 2011, 15:37, closed)