Wednesday, July 29, 2009

A WIZZ STORY. BY THE RUG.

This has been hard. As all stories have mainly been from our outings together, however, I do have one from many moons ago.
 
This was one year, I can’t remember which but defo early 90’s when Wiz, JohnT and I embarked on a summer holiday to Zante.
 
We had a ritual that every night we’d play the penalty shootout game that was popular on the Island.  Basically, score three out of three pens and win a bottle of bubbly (albeit the cheap nasty stuff, but pride came before all else).  Well, after a few drinks of the alcoholic kind, we ventured to the usual spot to participate in the daily ritual (no fun when sober) where the scorer of the least penalties amongst us had to down a drink of the winners choice.  On this journey one particular night, whilst intricately discussing tactics on how to score 3 pens a moment that would have been fitting for an episode of Only Fools & Horses occurred.  Engrossed in deep, combative conversation about what was about to happen, it was a case on one minute we were talking to Wiz the next he was gone.  As we turned around to suss out how he had magically disappeared, we discovered that Wiz totally ignored the big manhole that had been dug up at the side of the road and could just see some legs hanging in the air donning Wiz’s footwear.  Although in hysterics, we helped Wiz up and he duly dusted himself down and continued toward the challenge that laid ahead.  
 
The evening got worse for Wiz as he went on to lose the personal challenge (well Wiz & I both shared defeat but that doesn’t count as it’s Wiz’s wedding) and had to proceed in downing a drink chosen by the evenings winner, JohnT.  Wiz’s kryptonite had been found in the form of Red Eye which basically consisted of a pint of Bloody Mary (plus a few extras) finished off with a raw egg cracked into the glass (nice one Johnny).  The drink wasn’t completed in one swoop which made it harder to stomach with the raw egg slowly making its way towards Wiz’s mouth and gullet.  Well Wiz did eventually finish the drink whilst threatening to gag at regular intervals.  The chunder mouse would go on to make an appearance later that night.  To sober himself up, naturally still p’d as fart, whilst walking along the beach front to get back to our swanky 2 star accommodation Wiz decided to embark on a mini marathon legging it along the beach in pitch darkness.  Feeling very hammered ourselves, we had absolutely no chance of a. Keeping up with him, b. Trying to find him.  We just hoped that he knew where he was going and were optimistic he’d be crashed out when we eventually got in.  Well it’s safe to say at this point, Wiz in all his wisdom (excuse the pun) had no idea where he was heading during his beach marathon that resulted with him having to crash on a sun lounger.  Much to his annoyance, Wiz recounted that during his Olympic challenge, he had thrown off his most prized Ralph Lauren shirt only to never be found again.    What a warrior, what a night!!!
 
At this point, if all the boys are willing, we could chip in and buy him a Ralph Lauren shirt to replace the one lost all those years ago???
 

OH I HAVE ANOTHER QUICK ONE:

Although I struggle to recall most of our Wimbledon trips, I do recall one where we went on the fastest serve game and Wiz (bearing in mind his profession) recorded the slowest out of all of us.  Just to spice it up, didn’t a little girl go straight after Wiz and put him shame?  I don’t actually remember that bit and it may be fictional but worth adding in all the same!!

THE RUG.
  

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