*Pokes head into 4 Blokes 1 Blog*

...

You're still here? It's over!

....

Go home!*

Brenda update: spent the past year bouncing from pub job to pub job, barely earning enough to pay rent. Then the following happened:

• Dad comes home and says I can get 6 weeks temp work at the Oxford University, no pay but good experience in an office environment
• One week before job starts: 'Oh by the way, you'll be getting paid but probably only £5 an hour or so'
• First day of job: New boss: 'Right, you're on pay grade 4.1, that means £13 an hour'
• After first week: 'Oh by the way we're going to put you on a 6 month contract'

Goes to show it's not what you know, it's who you know. Maybe who you suck too.

Peace bitches, I'm going to go drink cocktails on sunny beaches during business trips**

- Brenda

*10 points if you get the movie reference

**Sit behind a desk 9-5 and smash my face into the keyboard to see what phrases come out

The end of time

So here's to the end of another year, and my God what a year it has been. Apart from whatever jobs or studying we claim to do in our free time, we've actually accomplished a fair amount. Besides breaking the land-speed record for a battery powered car (Charles 1) and constructing a raft that clearly would have floated us to safety in the likely event of the apocolypse, we managed to fit in a lot of kart. Oh we cycled round the Isle of Wight, but you wouldn't know about that becuase George STILL HASN'T WRITTEN UP HIS DAY. But I don't think 'a lot' of kart does it justice. Here are some stats to try to get across the extent to which we played that game:

Closing scores:

Luge - 32 (1 tech.) - 21%

Oli - 115 - 77%

Gay - 3 (14/9, 24/1, 26/2) - 2%

That makes:

150 championships.

~ 2400 races.

~ 6 days 6 hours of straight kart. That's nearly a straight week.

and God knows how many laps. I definitely did 2, Luge probably about 4, Gay... I don't even dare guess!

Closing targets:

Luge - 3

Oli - 4

Gay - 2

Bearing in mind they fluctuated by roughly 1 in each direction throughout the year.

Oh and I just noticed that I never failed to reach my target of 4. Both my laps were when my target was 5, and on both occasions I scored 3. Odd.

And somehow despite all that, we managed to spend a substantial amount of time in the Gordon's, and even occasionally went out to this place called Jesters. Whoever would have thought.

So just to top the year off, we thought we'd have a killer house party. After brewing our own beer, then drinking it all before the party, we decided toget some booze in. A trip to the cash and carry and the local brewery later, we came to realise we'd way, way overbought. Not to worry, as it's actually sitting next to me right now. All 50 cans of it. Anyway, the party was great, but due to a few early leavers, we decided to take the party to Jesters. Then, according to my memory, nothing happened until we'd left Jesters and decided to pay the Death Swing on our way home. Big mistake. After turfing some randoms off our swing, we dicked about, searched for Luke's phone, and generally made a hash of standing. However, no one as much so as George. In one ambitious gymnastic movement, he managed to backflip off the Death Swing and land on his feet. Unfortunately in doing so, a dodgy landing had left him sobbing in agony while the rest of us laughed and called him a big girl.

A few piggy-backs later we were home, and even after an hour of playing Luke's 'gayer or straighter' card game, George's ankle was still swolen and still causing him agony. I made the executive decision of sending him to bed, and we all hit the sack. Somehow, Luke made his bath run the following morning, after about 3 hours sleep, but on his arrival home was confronted by a demand to be taken to A and E. It soon transpired George had broken two bones in his ankle and would need surgery. Balls.

Not the way we'd planned to end the year, but hey that's life. We'd had it coming all year, well at least George had.

Good work, it's been an incredible year.

Cycling the Isle of Wight - Day 3

We awoke for the final time on this trip, apprehensive of the day ahead. We packed up all our equipment, although laziness had started to take it toll. Folding things to a size where they could fit into the rucksacks had become far too much effort so most thing found them selves either tied to the outside or strapped on with bungee cords. Our legs feeling pretty stiff and we were fear full that last night's hideously under cooked sausages may make life even harder.
Luckily however, our fears were not realised and as soon as we had gotten under way our legs limbered up and in no time at all we were flying along. We maintained this great pace with a high level of determination…. for about 20 minutes, before we decided that we needed a cup of tea.
So, in the lovely costal town of Yarmouth we set out to look for a tea room. I don't know what the owner thought when three raggedy, sweaty, unkempt, and definitely smelly youths turned up at his pristine and neatly kept tea room, but he could defiantly tell that we were in dire need of some tea as he welcomed us in.

Pumped, charged, and loaded with tea, we set off again. Down deceptively tranquil leafy lanes, we rode three abreast heading straight towards the Danger Zone.
In reality, we didn't see much evidence of a Danger Zone except for a sign that said "next left for the Danger Area" but this didn't put a stop to our marathon of Top Gun quotes.
Having all made it past the danger zone without inadvertently finding ourselves in a 4G inverted dive with a MiG 28, we decided to find a pub and stop for lunch.

After lunch, we headed due South-East through lush country side towards Carisbrooke Castle. Brimming with energy and enthusiasm we were not perturbed, even by the fact that the castle was on top of a rather steep hill, although bugger cycling up. So we ditched the bikes in a car park and set off on foot.
Venturing through fords, vaulting stiles, and crossing moats we made our way to the entrance of the castle still unperturbed. Until we found that it cost about £15 to get in, so we took some photos of the out side, and buggered off again.

We were now on the home straight, all we had to do was get to the centre of Newport, find the cycle path and stay on it all the way to Cowes. We got to the centre of Newport ok, however, we though it would be a much better idea to, instead of finding the cycle path, cycle round the park area for a bit asking people for directions who obviously didn't have a clue themselves. Eventually though, we got there. The cycle path was every thing we needed: flat, straight, but most importantly, had pubs at the end.

With plenty of time to kill before the ferry back to the main land, we carefully calculated what time we needed to head off at, locked up the bikes and got ourselves settled…. however… perhaps too settled. A generic amount of pints later, we went and got ourselves some fish and chips and then made our way to port. Before getting to the port we had to cross the chain ferry to get to the other side of Cowes, this is where our calculations fell down. We miss timed it and got to the chain ferry while it was dicking about on the other side of the river. Our time to departure was ticking away and still we could see no movement from the chain ferry. Eventually though, it started heading in our direction, and came to pick us up.
Time was of the essence, this had to be a slick operation, and there was no margin for error.
We were poised are ready, the second the chain ferry docked we would be off. The only thing we had over looked was our monumental ability to fail.
Firstly, on exiting the chain ferry the bag of fish and chips fell off Georges handle bars and he promptly rectified the situation by running them over shortly followed by him throwing his bike to the ground.
Secondly, as Oli zoomed past he unknowingly jettisoned his wallet but there was no need to worry as I was on hand to pick it up. I drunkenly reached down to pick it up, but the slippery little git was too clever for my dulled wits and I dropped it again, spraying Oli's bank cards and the ferry tickets all over the road.
Some how, we made it to the ferry port, flustered, drunk, and clearly panicked, we threw our tickets at the poor lady in the booth and raced to the boat, getting there just in the nick of time.
Once safely on the boat we found a sheltered spot on deck and had our fish and chips. Venturing out into the gale force winds only cos we were drunk and we thought it would be funny.
All that was left now was to cycle up through Southampton, get to our house, turn the key, and settle down with some Kart.
The perfect end to a phenomenal trip.


In loving memory:
of my old friend who was cruelly and prematurely taken from us.
My bike, who many a time helped me back from the pub when it was too far too walk, and only occasionally decided to throw me off into a hedge or discard it's chain while I was too drunk to put it back on.
It got me to bath runs at 6:30 in the morning, when I had been plastered the night before and was probably still too drunk to drive.
Got me all the way up to college, then to a brewery on the other side Winchester, and back home, and even had time to pick up dinner half way round.
Only some of the gears worked, and the ones that did took a few attempts to get into. The brakes squeaked horrifically, except when they were wet, and then they simply didn't work at all. The handle bars steadily work their way up until they eventually fall off. YET, despite all of this, it was still the best bike a man could own I'm glad I got to share this epic trip with it.
Many thanks old friend for all the times you gave me, your presents will be sorely missed.

My Bike 1994-2010

HALT, I AM LIBTOR

I hate politics

I hate the broken system in which the conservatives get a disproportionate amount of seats in parliament, where the lib dems don't. I'm trying to care less, but it's difficult. Maybe I should move to Canada or something.

So hey, nobody has blogged since late Feb. AND THAT WAS ME. You shits. Maybe our lives are just so mundane and boring that they're not worth blogging about.

Also, I'm only blogging right now because I'm drunk.

ALSO I just got a £25 speeding ticket for not wearing my seatbelt. Epic bullshittery.

Ugh.

I'm going to bed.

Cycling the Isle of Wight - Day 1

Up at 9 and ready to leave by 11, George and I were raring to go. We'd made the sandwiches, the sun was shining and the trip was set to be nothing short of incredible. Just as we picked our bags up to test ride around the block, Luke appeared on his way down the road. Despite his hangover from the Jonathon Creek drinking game, he was ready quickly and we left in about 15 minutes. The cycle ride to the ferry was pretty easy, and we took the first of many scenic detours in the wrong direction. Luckily, I had my compass on my bike, although it was refusing to point anything other than north.

We arrived at the ferry terminal in good time and were the first ones aboard, shortly joined by two other cyclists. Instantly dumping the bikes we made our way straight to the bar for the first (and possibly the priciest) pint of the trip. One hour, some sandwiches, and some chav entertainment later, we were the first off the ferry. As we cycled out of Cowes we were greeted almost instantly by quite a few hills. Halfway up one we passed the girl who had caught the ferry with her old man with her bike upside down, and a few minutes later her dad who hadn't bothered to go back for her. They must have been playing by Top Gear rules.

We soon turned off the main road towards a town called Fishbourne, stopping off at a garden Bazaar to pick see if we could pick up a mug. Luke, being the spanner that he is had forgotten his. After a bit of searching we found a pretty, floral tin mug to do just the job. At 50p, this was on offer he just couldn't refuse. We told the old ladies where we were heading and they strongly advised we visit an Abbey just up the lane. Unconvinced, we set off down a muddy cycle path instantly forgetting their advice. Barely a minute later we turned a corner and a huge Abbey appeared in front of us, so impressive there was just no way we could cycle past without taking a look. We took a peek inside, just about managing to stop Luke stealing a pencil Monkey Island style; simply because it was there. After a very civilised cream tea, we were back on our way.

The next area of interest on our itinerary was a vineyard spotted on a leaflet while we were on the ferry. We headed in what we thought was the right direction until we admitted defeat, stopped and checked the iGay. Looking up from the route, we saw a 50-foot spoon-like construction sticking straight out of the field next to us and bending in the wind. After a bit of guessing, we concluded that there could be no possible use for such a giant spoon and got back on our way.

Reaching the vineyard, we were glad to drop our bikes and bags and take a rest. We headed into the shop and quickly learnt they were doing free wine, mead and liqueur tasting. Many shots later, our light-headedness had lead us to the decision to buy a bottle of mead which we stashed and moved on.

Past Ryde, we decided to cut the Eastern most corner of Bembridge, and head south towards Sandown. However, little did we realise this would involve cycling across some of the steepest hills the Isle had to offer. On the route we encountered the toughest cycling of the trip, even though it was all on-road, but somehow managed to overcome it. Finally reaching a sign saying 'Welcome to Sandown', we were knackered and headed for the first signposted campsite. Despite being marked on our OS map as a camping and caravan park, it was closed for tents as it was out of season :(

At this point morale was low. We grabbed some food from the closest shop and had a brainstorm session. After a lot of phone calls and swearing, we'd found a farm that would have us, only problem was that it was a few kilometres down the road. With a last push of strength we made it to the farm at about 6pm, thankful that we could pack it in for the day. As we rode through the front gate, we were greeted by possibly the second largest collection of garden gnomes and disco balls we'd ever seen. These Isle of Wight folk were strange, strange people. Luke went off to sort out our arrangements with the farm owner while George and I pitched the tent. Only thing was, half an hour later, Luke still hadn't emerged.

We waited and waited until eventually came out of the farmhouse. Apparently, the bloke who owned house had ignored his wife and dinner, and constantly explained the same directions to the nearest pub. At least that's Luke's story and he's sticking to it. Some beans on toast and a cup of tea later, we'd (thankfully) Googled the nearest pub, only to learn it was in the complete opposite direction to what the farm owner had told Luke. We spent the rest of the evening in a nice, quiet pub, but to be honest, we didn't last much past 10pm.

Monkey Sabotage

I know it was on the weekend 8th of Feb, but nobody has blogged about gay's birthday.

So here is a blog about gay's birthday. It's full of words and recollections about past events.

Most important thing first: four-man kart returned to the house. I'm well aware that Katie has played (as Toad.....boo) to fill the Brenda-shaped void, but surely that's three-man plus one-woman kart. Just doesn't have the same ring to it. Two sessions of Kart were had, the first seeing Luke do a naked lap up to the bottle bank and making a bottle deposit in not only great fashion, but great speed. One thing that was noticed is that monkey hadn't been on the track in quite a while, and as such, was a bit sloppy. Taking out people left right and centre, over-taking others only to crash out in front of them in dramatic style, and making noises of general dis contempt for his painful predicament. He failed to get a championship, but avoided naked runs, and that's what counts at the end of the day.

George's birthday, unsurprisingly, involved a trip to Jesters, which, unsurprisingly, involved us getting overly drunk, which, unsurprisingly, involved us getting torso-naked towards the end of the night to the Bay Watch theme. It was the Bay Watch theme, right? I really can't remember, I mean I assume it was the Bay Watch theme as that's the traditional thing to do, but it might have just been a mass Jesters strip session. Wouldn't be the first time. Anyway Katie bought me two shots of Gin and I almost vommed, throats were made hoarse by much shouting, and nobody fell into a bush on the way home, so job well done. Gay's penis cake was also fantastically made by Katie, and I'll try to attach a picture of it in a later post (unless somebody can do this ahead of me).

As for Brenda, I've returned to working in a petrol station 40 hours a week, and am currently enjoying two days off. Also considering indulging in cheese and wine at some point.

- Brenda

4 Blokes, 1 Blog, 1 Year

Here at 4 Blokes 1 Blog we like a good a good stat; so here goes:

81 posts (and 2 unpublished works of Brenda),

18 posts referencing Mario Kart (4 of which were character descriptions),

2 holiday snaps (snore),

1 dead pheasant,

3 followers gained,

and too many rants to count...


So to wrap up, not a huge amount has changed. Yeah, Brenda has moved to Brendaland, and yeah, our targets are now 3-3-1, but the blog still stands strong. I leave you with a good pie representing posting commitment over the past 12 months.