Sizzled.
I work in motorsport. Sounds glamorous, actually isn’t. My chosen branch of motorsport is the poor relation of Formula 1. The kind of motorsport that is kept chained up in the loft and never spoken of. You do however meet all kinds of characters, from multi-millionaires (of which there are many) to journeymen mechanics who have been spannering cars in all four corners of the globe, man and boy.

The maxim ‘Work hard, play hard’ has never been truer than for those people who work with racing cars for a living. Everyone seems to be a borderline alcoholic, but after pulling your plums out for seven days on the trot, for twenty hours a day, in the frozen wastes of Sweden to the dust bowls of Greece, you could be forgiven for wanting to let your hair down a little at the end of an event.

One engineer I had the pleasure of working with had a legendary reputation for mischief after a drink or two, he had that genius streak that left him perpetually teetering on the borderline of brilliance and madness.

He had a real Jekyll and Hyde personality, after just a single glass of red wine or a Gin and Tonic, the mild mannered engineer (who had spent just a few of his formative years in Liverpool) would transform into the most Liverpudlian drunk you would ever meet. It was a given that bad things always happened when he had a drink, and you could always be sure there would be a large, expectant, crowd gathered to watch the resulting mess.

After one particular session, he came out of a nightclub and got an attack of the munchies as soon as he saw the hot dog van serving tepid, vaguely burger and sausage shaped scrapings form the abattoir floor, to a captive audience of hungry drunks.

Full of Dutch courage our hero marched to the front of the lengthy queue and demanded, in the nicest possible way, to be served one of the vendors fine hot dogs. ‘Mate, mate, gis a hot dog mate’.

Obviously used to such behaviour, Mr Sizzle (other mobile food franchises are available) pointed to the back of the queue and politely invited our friend to join it. Not to be deterred, and now on a full charm offensive, Mr Engineer again demanded to be served a hot dog. ‘Aw, mate, come on mate, gis a hot dog’. Once again he is invited to join the back of the queue, but again he declines offer.

Mr Sizzle and the queue of angry drunks have now had enough, and despite desperate pleas, Mr Engineer is being ignored by Mr Sizzle. With logic that could only be applied by a steaming drunk, Mr Engineer staggers around to the back of the hot dog van.

Imagine the look on the faces of those in the queue, and Mr Sizzle, as the hot dog van drives off down the road just as Mr Sizzle is serving his umpteenth grease-fest of the night! The van draws to a halt, Mr Engineer disembarks, staggers back around to the front of the van and calmly and politely again asks for a hot dog, citing that he is now at the front of the queue, where-upon, as a nod to his ingenuity, determination and sheer cheek and stupidity, Mr Sizzle promptly served him his hot dog.
(Mr_Wendel, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 14:41, 5 replies)

Hehe
This post has made my week. Click!
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 14:43, closed)

funny.genius.bastard
in that order.
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 14:50, closed)

A win of large testicled proportions...
...*click*
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 14:58, closed)

That's not drunken logic...
That's the pure mindset of an engineer finding the easiest solution to a problem.

Click.
(MattWPBS, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 17:37, closed)

win

just pure win.
(goorf, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 22:44, closed)