Water, boats and all that floats
Scaryduck hasn't changed the question because he's away drinking on a boat. So.
Tell us your stories of drinking and sinking, in piddly little pedalos all the way up to that oil tanker you "borrowed" ...
( , Thu 1 Nov 2012, 19:34)
Scaryduck hasn't changed the question because he's away drinking on a boat. So.
Tell us your stories of drinking and sinking, in piddly little pedalos all the way up to that oil tanker you "borrowed" ...
( , Thu 1 Nov 2012, 19:34)
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We decided it would be an awesome idea to go out for a boat ride up the river one night,
The only problem we had was a lack of a boat.
Well, after a couple of drinks, some genius pipes up and says "well, there's a boat yard down by the meadow, It's got a pretty tall fence, but between the four of us I bet we could get s little row boat out if we're careful."
Excellent, so, a bit more dutch courage, and off we go. Find the yard fairly easy, me and another chap hop over the gate, and start a search for a suitably light vessel, with space for four.
"Fuck, they're all fucking chained up, that's bullshit"
"ssssshhh, there must be one without a chain, bring that torch here"
"hang on, look, under this tarpaulin"
"looks a bit battered, Fuck it, its all we've got"
Cue 30 mins or so of 4 of us trying to manouvre a fairly hefty wood hull rowing boat over a 5 foot fence, with a break to sit down after Joe took an oar to the face. Complete accident.
"brilliant, where do we launch it from?"
"looks like a slip way just up the path come on"
We get the boat down in to the water, everyone jumps in, except Joe, who in more bad luck gobs it, and gets a wet left leg, and we're off. We are gentleman now. Calmly rowing our boat out on to the black glass water of the Thames. It's everything we'd hoped it would be, we light a smoke, crack open a beer, and marvel at our genius. Then I notice my boots are wet. Then Joe notices his ankles ate wet, then James notices his bum is wet, and we all realise, there might have been a reason this boat wasn't locked up. We start frantically trying to bail out with our hands, Dan on the oars hits out for the bank with all the strength in his weedy vegetarian arms...but no. We sink. Beer gone. Phones dead, wet through stood in the boat, water just above our waists, and sadly wade back to the bank. Disheveled, cold, wet and defeated.
( , Sun 4 Nov 2012, 11:12, 1 reply)
The only problem we had was a lack of a boat.
Well, after a couple of drinks, some genius pipes up and says "well, there's a boat yard down by the meadow, It's got a pretty tall fence, but between the four of us I bet we could get s little row boat out if we're careful."
Excellent, so, a bit more dutch courage, and off we go. Find the yard fairly easy, me and another chap hop over the gate, and start a search for a suitably light vessel, with space for four.
"Fuck, they're all fucking chained up, that's bullshit"
"ssssshhh, there must be one without a chain, bring that torch here"
"hang on, look, under this tarpaulin"
"looks a bit battered, Fuck it, its all we've got"
Cue 30 mins or so of 4 of us trying to manouvre a fairly hefty wood hull rowing boat over a 5 foot fence, with a break to sit down after Joe took an oar to the face. Complete accident.
"brilliant, where do we launch it from?"
"looks like a slip way just up the path come on"
We get the boat down in to the water, everyone jumps in, except Joe, who in more bad luck gobs it, and gets a wet left leg, and we're off. We are gentleman now. Calmly rowing our boat out on to the black glass water of the Thames. It's everything we'd hoped it would be, we light a smoke, crack open a beer, and marvel at our genius. Then I notice my boots are wet. Then Joe notices his ankles ate wet, then James notices his bum is wet, and we all realise, there might have been a reason this boat wasn't locked up. We start frantically trying to bail out with our hands, Dan on the oars hits out for the bank with all the strength in his weedy vegetarian arms...but no. We sink. Beer gone. Phones dead, wet through stood in the boat, water just above our waists, and sadly wade back to the bank. Disheveled, cold, wet and defeated.
( , Sun 4 Nov 2012, 11:12, 1 reply)
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