Combine Harvester Joy ! ! !

I blame this one on the fact that I used to live on a fucking HUGE hill...

One Christmas Eve, I must've been six or seven, I remember going to sleep virtually pissing myself at the thought of my sparkly new AT-AT, or possibly the Millenium Falcoln, or at the very least the snow speeder, that would be waiting for be downstairs on Christmas morning. Delivered, no doubt, by a fat bloke with a beard... my dad.

I recall waking up early, scuttling downstairs, throwing open the living room door, to see...

... a fucking bike...

FUCK!!!

I waded through the rest of my booty and found nothing Star Wars related - did my parents even KNOW me??? I thought, because I was an ungrateful little shit.

Eventually, my parents arose from their slumber, and I remember my bleary - eyed father taking me and the fucking bike (as it will always be called in my memory), out to the pavement in front of my house.

"Now then, Spanky," said my Dad. "Climb on board and we'll see how you get on."

I'd never been on one of these fucking bike things before. I was sceptical and still utterly pissed off about my lack of Long Time Ago In A Galaxy Far Far Away clobber...

I clambered onto the bike with as much grace as a fitting epileptic operating a pnumatic drill in each hand.

"Don't worry, Spanky," said my Dad. "I won't let go."

And then he let go.

And because my house was on a fucking HUGE hill, I started to roll forward at an alarming speed.

"ARRRRggggg HHHHHHHH EEEEeeeeeeeeee IIIIiiiiiEEEEeeeee!!! I'M GOING TO DIE!!!" I reasoned.

My dad, the fat bastard that he is, somehow managed to catch up with me thirty or so meters down the street. He stopped the bike. I got off and stormed inside, pulled at my mum's leg in the kitchen where she was busy putting together the Christmas dinner, and I announced:

"Dad has just tried to kill me," and I flounced out and went to sulk in my room.

And the whole fucking bike episode was forgotten.

Until...

I got back to school.

And every fucker in the school seemed to have been given a new bike for Christmas. There must've been a drive by Coventry Council that fucking year, either that or a Raleigh lorry must've been hijacked on the A45.

And every other fucker in my school could ride these things. Even the girls!!! God, I was pissed off!!!

So, being a gobby little shit, when asked if I could ride a bike, I lied.

"'Course," says I. "I'm like Evil Knievel, me... Nah, I keep my wheels at home. They'd get knicked if I brought um to school." I may have even told someone I had a gold plated grifter which spoke like Kit out of Knight Rider, which was possibly a lie too far.

This seemed to be working fine until Miss Facey, my form tutor, announced we would be having something called Cycling Proficiency...

I sat there, smiling, not really understanding the full implications.

In my six or seven year old mind I assumed Cycling Proficiency was a test where they showed you some photos of vehicles, and you just had to pick out the bikes to pass. No, that's a car, no, that's an aeroplace, yep - that one's a bike... and so on.

But no. I was wrong.

A few days later when I was preparing myself for an afternoon of learning how to write about combine harvesters (still facinate me to this day, those things), Miss Facey gathered us together and took us out to the playground.

Some fucker had littered the playground with dayglo plastic cones and bean bags... And someone else had lined up all the kids bikes in a row... There was also a strange looking fella there who'd I'd never seen before, he had a clipboard and was smiling at us, the evil fucker...

"Go and get your bikes, children," said Miss Facey. "We'll start by circling the playground a few times."

Oh, FUCK!!!

I stood still while my classmates legged it to their machines, like some prepubescent Le Mans 24 Hour Race for midgets.

"Spanky, go and get your bike, dear," said Miss Facey. "We all know how much you like riding and how good you are."

Bugger...

Aaa-Haa!!! I came up with an absolutely fucking genius plan.

"Miss Facey, I don't have my bike with me," says I, beaming, just wanting to go back inside and look at my combine harvester book.

And then the strange man with the clipboard spoke up: "Don't worry, son. We've got some spare bikes. You can use one of those."

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!

And then it occured to me, my masterplan, my most inspired moment, a stroke of genius for which I am still incredibly proud to this very day, God, I'm so fucking clever, thought I...

In full view of the whole class, Miss Facey, and this strange fella from Cycling Proficiency...

...I pissed myself.

Starting slowly, building to a torrent, making my brown chinos turn darker brown and puddling on the playground in a stinky puddle, nice n steamy in the early afternoon sun...

Some of the girls went: "UrggghhHHHH!!!" One of the boys clapped...

And within minutes, I was back inside, looking at the fuckwits riding round in circles, while I did some much needed catch up time with my combine harvester study...

Anyone up for a threshing???
( SpankyHanky, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 9:53, 8 replies)

Brilliant
I loved the Le Mans start analogy.


Have some stabilizers on me...
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:05, closed)

Another winner
from Mr Spankey

*click*
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:48, closed)

I like combines.
They are cool machines, aren't they? Not as cool as the Millennium Falcon, but close.
(w4I4q1O1 was hard at work on, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:52, closed)

Combine harvesters
are the best thing ever! Wooo!
( SpankyHanky, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 11:47, closed)

I remember living near a farm
when I was younger.

The ultimate game of chicken? Hide and seek in the field being harvested (at the age where you are barely able to see over the crops) - great fun
(bamboozled Can hear you getting fatter, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 14:16, closed)

Ahh cycling proficiency...
All was going well until upon riding my bike home after passing i was nearly run over by the instructor at a junction - squealing brakes etc.

aah the irony...
(funkenstein Be pure! Be vigilant! Behave!, Mon 2 Feb 2009, 13:43, closed)

That hill...
Was it Barkers Butts Lane?
(grandmaswhiskers, Mon 2 Feb 2009, 22:25, closed)

It was somewhere
in Walsgrave... Moved when I was eight n fucked if I remember the street name... Loads of big trees and a post office on a corner...
( SpankyHanky, Mon 2 Feb 2009, 23:06, closed)