Visit to my brother in Wimbledon
After a trip to Birminghams Snobs nightclub one weekend, I'd caught a bit of ginger fluff from Coventry University...this was back in summer 2001. She was well up for everything and I asked to her come with me on a drive down from Bham to London to visit my brother in Wimbledon.

I had a Purple 1.8d Feista which looked like a big glans. She didn't comment on this as our brief relationship hadn't developed to that sort of conversation but I knew she thought it was a little bit shite.
The car was my little prison for a trip that should've taken 3-4 hours there and back:-

I had been in a car with my brother driving into Wimbledon so knew the route to my destination quite well....should be a doddle.
We managed to get on the M1 all the way down to the North Circ. and picked our way through traffic lights and jams getting to Wimbledon and had a good night at my brothers.

The problem was the next day - I had to drive out of London. I'd never done this before with anyone so had no idea, I'd not studied the map because I was trying to impress my piece of ginger fluff.
This was before SatNav's were cheap so I relied on an OS Map found in my car door pocket.

We set off at about 10:00am. I thought that heading East from Wimbledon would get me past London, then I could head up the East side of London and avoid loads of traffic, then head north up and into the Midlands. It didn't happen like that.

After about 200 traffic lights, we were running out of diesel and I had to put the wheels on some red double lines while ginger fluff had to get out and get some for me....she returned looking sweaty and flustered after about half an hour. We set off and after another hour of driving round in circles, traffic lights, asking directions from cockney's who laughed at my ridiculous car (one spat some chewing gum on the bonnet) I finally lost my mind and I remember swearing and shouting at everything and everyone.

She became quiet as I tried to lighten the situation by joking about how we will get home at about midnight and I remember her response "let me out". It was somewhere in Eltham, she got out, took her bag off the backseat and I never saw or heard from her again.

I thought that was the least of my problems....I'd been driving for hours and was still in the south of London. I continued to drive until I recognised a something on the map (Woolwich) so I headed toward it. I got into a traffic jam and realised I was heading to the Woolwich car ferry. I was in a long line of traffic waiting for the ferry to return. Luckily there was a hot dog seller just a short walk away from the car so I got out and bought one. As I started to bite down on my big mechanically recovered horse pole, all the cars engines started up and started driving toward the ferry, my car of course was blocking hundreds of commuters (it was about 5:30pm in the afternoon) so I dashed back, slipped over the kerb banging into my car dropping my food. Many people saw this and I had to drive onto the rather small ferry with those many people smirking and pointing at me. As the ferry tugged along I thought to myself "how the hell did I end up in this situation?"

As we got to the other end I drove off in a huff, (a murderous huff) and continued to head north - my delight as I saw a sign that said Harlow which according to the map meant I was heading out of London. It was about 7:00pm. I continued driving, my eyes dreary, filled up with diesel again, half asleep, starving and thirsty.....I passed Peterborough and started into Nottingham. Then realised I lived in Birmingham. I had to then spend another hour driving across from Nottingham, south into Birmingham.....I'd overshot a whole city.
The entire return journey was about 12 hours and two tanks of diesel.

The moral of the story is - don't go out with a ginger from Coventry Uni and get a satnav before you drive out of London.
(Master of Toss has piles, Mon 18 Jul 2011, 16:08, 9 replies)

Arf!
Click.

Stoopid ginges.
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Mon 18 Jul 2011, 16:45, closed)

I laugh, because I could just see myself failing to escape from London without a satnav
At least you're not still there!
( LemonEntryMyDearWatson This time, Moriarty, the hand is on the other foot, Mon 18 Jul 2011, 17:38, closed)

Chicks dig guys who can read maps, y'know.
I don't think I'd ever drive into, out of, or around London with someone I didn't know very well - it's an invariably shitty experience.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 18 Jul 2011, 20:37, closed)

nice story
Repeatedly referring to any other human being as "ginger fluff" makes you look like a collossal twat.

A cunt, in fact.

Enjoy your cuntdom, you cunt.
(apologies_for_length, Tue 19 Jul 2011, 0:07, closed)

What if it's Rebekah Brooks?
It's politer than Ginger Slappa...
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Tue 19 Jul 2011, 8:46, closed)

Whereas repeatedly referring to any other human being as a cunt
is perfectly acceptable.


Sensitive about our hair colour are we?
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Tue 19 Jul 2011, 9:25, closed)

(tyrellsOwl, Tue 19 Jul 2011, 12:27, closed)

Surely
the moral of the story is not slagging off ginger people but rather having even the tiniest grasp of geography before setting off on a journey?
(rockdoctor, Tue 19 Jul 2011, 11:33, closed)

That's my problem - I have the inability to plan ahead.

Also when I said Ginger Fluff I meant flame haired associate.
(Master of Toss has piles, Wed 20 Jul 2011, 8:55, closed)