Basques.
Every summer in the Basque regions of france and spain, every village and town has a fete. These are mad piss-ups, usually involving large amounts of sangria and bulls. Bulls chasing you through the streets mainly. The San Fermin at Pamplona is obviously the most famous, but all the towns have them and you could easily spend every weekend getting shitfaced all over the basque country in the summer.

So, that's pretty much what we did.

This was a few years ago, and the french police pretty much turned a blind eye to drink driving as long as you were wearing the traditional white and red that you wear to a festival, because, well, it's a festival.

So there's the backstory.

Me and my mate, both english, were crossing the border from Spain back into France after a five-day orgy of booze, singing, dancing and getting chased by bulls. Our traditional whites were a maroon colour, dyed from kalamotxo and sangria. We were stinking.

We got stopped by the police at the border.

Passports handed over. The police examine our car. We're fucked. 'Is this your car m'sieur?' It wasn't. It had Dutch number plates and belonged to a friend who we weren't entirely sure we'd asked if we could borrow it. 'Ah, non...' fuck.

The police continue to examine our car, walking slowly, checking underneath it. They slowly come back to us and hand our passports back.
'M'sieur, there is a problem with your car'.
Oh shit.
'You need a new one. This one is shit'.

And with a smirk, sends us on our way.
(inflateable, Sat 7 May 2011, 12:05, Reply)