Rob is in the diary room
“I don’t like those other two, they keep pickin on me, I’m so fed up that my bike has shown it’s true colours, it’s a lump of poo in the guise of a C90, I know I trashed the arse of it yesterday but it didn’t need to break down”
Yes its true, Halflife has virtually blown his engine, the man at “2 Wheels r us” told us so. He noticed yesterday that his amazing 62mph sprint had a bad effect on his floundering machine, and today it only got worse. As we continually heard about.
After making it to the keebab shop last night and spelling out at least a dozen times our order to the imigrant shop owners (We all ordered Keebab meals for Euro 8.50, Al had fish and chips, Paul had a sponge finger in brie, and Rob had a fondue chicken, we all drank coffee, not the tea we had ordered) Al had we got involved in funeral celebrations where we listened to “cracklin rosie” 47 times. Possibly a favourite of the desceased or maybe the 67 year old pool wizard who continually hammered the Euros in to the juke box with a palm tree printed on it. Apparently today’s funeral was going to be followed by another tomorrow so the congregation, including Father Donaghee, the priest who had 12 Jamesons while we were there, had unanimously voted to spend the time between services in the pub. A man with 4 teeth began talking to Al, “Wheres ye from?” He spat, “ The UK” answered the fish gigalo, “Ahh Feck, I used to live in Newquay” He exclaimed and then went about his Guinness with a fervour rarely seen in modern days.
The whole congregation took the mickey out of our sleeping arrangements for the night, pronouncing the habitant ghosts to be “wwwwooooooooooo!!” scarey.
After having the 1 euro tour of Tinhalla golf club from Humphrey our host for the evening we made like bananas and split, Apparently Tinhalla Humprey was on the board of directors for tourism for the local town of Kilkenny. “Now boys, its great for an hour” he said many many many times, did that mean it turned shit after that? Did you contract some horrible illness after 60 minutes in the town? We thought it was worth the risk.
We found a little spot on the river, Al got himself excited and pulled out his rod and Gollobski and Halflife slept by the river bank. It was glorious, 3 men and their chasers, where is montmorency? Al fishing, Rob worrying about his bike and Paul sleeping. Our fish expert caught a fish, an 8oz trout, he also caught a leaf and Rob caught a twig so combined the collective catch was 3 times more than Scotty caught in France 3 weeks ago.
We then had to make an emergency stop at the local hospital, Al had contracted texters thumb, a modern illness for a modern guy. We should add that the worst part of this trip has not been the inclement weather, the breakdowns or the Lorry drivers but the continual Beep Beep of Al’s phone till 5am every morning. Its like Chinese water torture after an hour or two. Al noticed his thumbs were swollen at 4.15am yesterday as he was enjoying his post text sex cigarette through a little hole in his tent.
After Kilkenny we hammered the life out of our chasers and surprising made it to Dublin port one day early, The feeling was very moving and for all the piss taking and crap we write on this blog I was moved at actually achieving this. The weeks been so hard at times but we did it, we did what Danny in Joeys bar said we couldn’t, we did what many of you thought we were stupid for doing, its not going to change the world but I personally will take this with me to the grave.
We got an earlier boat and are heading back to Matty’s for a curry we hope and a chill out.
There will be a full update tomorrow but till then it au reviour from the 3 of us as we sail out of port on our way home. And by the way Rob’s bike is still buggared.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Stand by your pint
Day 6 - Blarney to Waterford
Evening all
Before we start a quick shout to Laura, Waterford crystal has not gone bust, they are merely being bought out so you don't have to treble the insurance on them yet. x
Morning broke but was swiftly fixed and the previous nights frivolities with David, Declan, Kevin, John, Shaun, Jason and the rest at the Muskerry Arms in Blarney fading heavily into a Guinness haze we made our way back to the pub for our promised free full Irish brekkie.
Banger, Bacon, Black and White pudding and everything else washed down with cups of tea set us slowly on our way.
Out on the highway, the wind whistling past, against, at, up and across we ate the miles. The towns rolled by in a blur and our maximum top speed, previously 52mph, was smashed, the new record of 56mph was however to be shortlived.
At a set of traffic lights in Cork, halflife shouted a challenge at his fat friend and the fishboy, it was one that couldn't be rejected. "first to the workman" he shouted, a workman was approx 200yds away shovelling something from one pile to another, the lights changed, the engines roared (actually spluttered to life) gears were selected and the revs rose. Carpboy won the close race by a mere 0.108 seconds from a distraught Gollobski. Halflife on the other hand, having thrown down the initial gauntlet, checked his mirrors, neatly selected his chosen gear, straightened his tie, checked his oil and chain tension before gently pulling away to finish a close 17 minutes 32 seconds behind the other two.
To make up for this minor faux pah, Halflife then went for the landspeed record, with a prevailing wind, in a lorries (sorry Semi's) slipstream he smashed the previous top speed into the weeds hitting 60mph. The others closely followed similarly hitting the magical six zero.
The wind was incredibly strong, nearly blowing Gollobski off the bike a few times but the bikes were running really well and the miles to Waterford flew by.
Unfortunately in his haste to hit the 60mph barrier, Halflife had then begun to here clunking sounds, grinding sounds and banging sounds from his C90.
He discovered his exhaust bolt was missing and now feels a complete stripdown by a crack MotoGp team is needed. Jeremy Burgess (Valentino Rossi's team manager) is flying in Friday morning for a consultation session so Halflife can revisit his tour strategy. Gollobski quipped " he should get on and ride the damn thing, mines sounded like shit since saturday"
Carpboy found another energy drink today called Rockstar, twice the size, twice the punch and now our pee smells like Lucky Charms!!
During the day Gollobski came about as close to falling off his chicken as he ever has, A German Shepard, called Adolf or Killer or sythe or something like decided that he didn't like Gollobski's taste in over trousers. He ran into the road, attempted to bite and even though Golloski opted to fall and miss the dog, it was in the hands of the gods he didnt hit the kitty litter. a change of underwear was needed.
After repairing the bike we headed to Carrick on suir for a spot of fishing and keebab eating, no doubt ending in a pub somewhere till the wee hours. Strangely enough I now write this from a pub, after stuffing a keebab, the whole trip shortly following Carpboy landing 5 spratts, 3 stickleback, 14 lobsters and a toilet seat with his £1400 competition fishing rod.
Oh happy days
Evening all
Before we start a quick shout to Laura, Waterford crystal has not gone bust, they are merely being bought out so you don't have to treble the insurance on them yet. x
Morning broke but was swiftly fixed and the previous nights frivolities with David, Declan, Kevin, John, Shaun, Jason and the rest at the Muskerry Arms in Blarney fading heavily into a Guinness haze we made our way back to the pub for our promised free full Irish brekkie.
Banger, Bacon, Black and White pudding and everything else washed down with cups of tea set us slowly on our way.
Out on the highway, the wind whistling past, against, at, up and across we ate the miles. The towns rolled by in a blur and our maximum top speed, previously 52mph, was smashed, the new record of 56mph was however to be shortlived.
At a set of traffic lights in Cork, halflife shouted a challenge at his fat friend and the fishboy, it was one that couldn't be rejected. "first to the workman" he shouted, a workman was approx 200yds away shovelling something from one pile to another, the lights changed, the engines roared (actually spluttered to life) gears were selected and the revs rose. Carpboy won the close race by a mere 0.108 seconds from a distraught Gollobski. Halflife on the other hand, having thrown down the initial gauntlet, checked his mirrors, neatly selected his chosen gear, straightened his tie, checked his oil and chain tension before gently pulling away to finish a close 17 minutes 32 seconds behind the other two.
To make up for this minor faux pah, Halflife then went for the landspeed record, with a prevailing wind, in a lorries (sorry Semi's) slipstream he smashed the previous top speed into the weeds hitting 60mph. The others closely followed similarly hitting the magical six zero.
The wind was incredibly strong, nearly blowing Gollobski off the bike a few times but the bikes were running really well and the miles to Waterford flew by.
Unfortunately in his haste to hit the 60mph barrier, Halflife had then begun to here clunking sounds, grinding sounds and banging sounds from his C90.
He discovered his exhaust bolt was missing and now feels a complete stripdown by a crack MotoGp team is needed. Jeremy Burgess (Valentino Rossi's team manager) is flying in Friday morning for a consultation session so Halflife can revisit his tour strategy. Gollobski quipped " he should get on and ride the damn thing, mines sounded like shit since saturday"
Carpboy found another energy drink today called Rockstar, twice the size, twice the punch and now our pee smells like Lucky Charms!!
During the day Gollobski came about as close to falling off his chicken as he ever has, A German Shepard, called Adolf or Killer or sythe or something like decided that he didn't like Gollobski's taste in over trousers. He ran into the road, attempted to bite and even though Golloski opted to fall and miss the dog, it was in the hands of the gods he didnt hit the kitty litter. a change of underwear was needed.
After repairing the bike we headed to Carrick on suir for a spot of fishing and keebab eating, no doubt ending in a pub somewhere till the wee hours. Strangely enough I now write this from a pub, after stuffing a keebab, the whole trip shortly following Carpboy landing 5 spratts, 3 stickleback, 14 lobsters and a toilet seat with his £1400 competition fishing rod.
Oh happy days
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
What a difference a day makes.
We woke up in Knock this morning completely refreshed and still piss wet through. For Halflife and Gollobski this was because of the previous days rain but for Carpboy it was because he had pissed himself again. Our chef for the morning was the man of the house, the ‘lady’ having come in after midnight pissed as a fart and therefore in no condition to cook for three needy travellers. Breakfast consisted of 2 slices of anorexic bacon, fried tomato, crispy fried egg and some ’100% pork’ sausages. Gollobski just stared at the plate and we thought it was all going to kick off, fortunately he had vented all his anger the previous day on his chicken (the bike, we are not suggesting any kind of bestiality here), and in the interests of keeping the peace we let him eat all the toast. 8am and we were ready to hit the road, we had taken over every radiator In the house the evening before in a futile attempt to dry our sodden clothes. One of two things had gone wrong however, either we had underestimated the extent of the soaking the clothes had received that day or the owner had switched the heating off as soon as we went to the pub, we had our suspicions but nothing could be proved
We had managed to convince ourselves the night before that they would definitely take the credit card, it seems though that non of us remembered to convince the proprietor of this fact and Halflife needed to accept a lift into the closest village with a cash machine (some 6Km away). 90 Euro’s later and we were on our way. Soaking wet but spirits high to be finally leaving Knock, apparently ‘the single most visited place in Ireland’.
It took a few miles before it dawned on us all….no rain…whats going on? Today we were going to do some miles. Now I hope your all sitting down reading this, Gollobski’s bike didn’t break down all day! Perhaps it was because the night before we had stayed in the holy town of Knock, perhaps it was because no one could be that un-lucky, or perhaps it was because Gollobski’s kicking and castration of his chicken the day before had finally worked and it decided to behave, what ever it was, we had a cracking days riding.
We even managed to overtake a few things today, and I’m not just talking about the odd push bike either, I’m talking powered things like cars, 4x4’s and trucks. Gollobski attempted an overtaking manoeuvre at 45mph on a Toyota land cruiser with horse box which culminated in a 3 mile neck and neck drag down the N18. No one was willing to give, Gollobski with his head on the clocks and the land cruiser driver never getting out of second gear. The race was finally settled when, laughing to the point of wetting himself the Toyota driver missed his change to 3rd and Gollobski claimed a moral victory.
There was still a bit of wind but we were on fire seeing 52mph on the speedometer at several point (Halflife’s speedometer anyway, Carpboy’s does not work and Gollobski just lies about how quick his goes). In an attempt to make some progress we changed the riding formation, Halflife taking the lead, Gollobski in the middle and Carpboy pushing from the rear. This didn’t make us ride any quicker but it did at least stop Gollobski stopping every 5 minutes. After about 100 miles we stopped for the second time for fuel and Carpboy treated us all to an energy drink called ‘monster’
It promised to be the most powerful energy drink on the planet, we are disappointed to report however that it didn’t make us ride any more aggressively but just made your wee smell like sugarpuffs.
The reward for a days hard riding was to make it to Blarney to kiss the Blarney stone.
Although something that definitely needed ticking off the list I can report that I have kissed better for 10 Euro. Carpboy went first and we were a little concerned how long he spent down there with the polished piece of igneous rock, later he confessed he was’ just practicing his technique’. Gollobski went next and much to Halflifes disgust confessed he had just tongued the famous rock but was now eloquent, the words “Foresooth“ “By Jingo“ and “I say Mrs Pickford, Its merely a turnip“ are now part of his vocab . 
Finally it was Halflifes go, he can report that the shape of the rock prevents you getting any really suction but at least it never resisted.
Anyway, we are all in the pub necking a well earned Guinness, check back tomorrow to see if the hapless threesome can keep it running to another whole day.
We had managed to convince ourselves the night before that they would definitely take the credit card, it seems though that non of us remembered to convince the proprietor of this fact and Halflife needed to accept a lift into the closest village with a cash machine (some 6Km away). 90 Euro’s later and we were on our way. Soaking wet but spirits high to be finally leaving Knock, apparently ‘the single most visited place in Ireland’.
It took a few miles before it dawned on us all….no rain…whats going on? Today we were going to do some miles. Now I hope your all sitting down reading this, Gollobski’s bike didn’t break down all day! Perhaps it was because the night before we had stayed in the holy town of Knock, perhaps it was because no one could be that un-lucky, or perhaps it was because Gollobski’s kicking and castration of his chicken the day before had finally worked and it decided to behave, what ever it was, we had a cracking days riding.
We even managed to overtake a few things today, and I’m not just talking about the odd push bike either, I’m talking powered things like cars, 4x4’s and trucks. Gollobski attempted an overtaking manoeuvre at 45mph on a Toyota land cruiser with horse box which culminated in a 3 mile neck and neck drag down the N18. No one was willing to give, Gollobski with his head on the clocks and the land cruiser driver never getting out of second gear. The race was finally settled when, laughing to the point of wetting himself the Toyota driver missed his change to 3rd and Gollobski claimed a moral victory.
There was still a bit of wind but we were on fire seeing 52mph on the speedometer at several point (Halflife’s speedometer anyway, Carpboy’s does not work and Gollobski just lies about how quick his goes). In an attempt to make some progress we changed the riding formation, Halflife taking the lead, Gollobski in the middle and Carpboy pushing from the rear. This didn’t make us ride any quicker but it did at least stop Gollobski stopping every 5 minutes. After about 100 miles we stopped for the second time for fuel and Carpboy treated us all to an energy drink called ‘monster’
It promised to be the most powerful energy drink on the planet, we are disappointed to report however that it didn’t make us ride any more aggressively but just made your wee smell like sugarpuffs.The reward for a days hard riding was to make it to Blarney to kiss the Blarney stone.
Although something that definitely needed ticking off the list I can report that I have kissed better for 10 Euro. Carpboy went first and we were a little concerned how long he spent down there with the polished piece of igneous rock, later he confessed he was’ just practicing his technique’. Gollobski went next and much to Halflifes disgust confessed he had just tongued the famous rock but was now eloquent, the words “Foresooth“ “By Jingo“ and “I say Mrs Pickford, Its merely a turnip“ are now part of his vocab . Finally it was Halflifes go, he can report that the shape of the rock prevents you getting any really suction but at least it never resisted.Anyway, we are all in the pub necking a well earned Guinness, check back tomorrow to see if the hapless threesome can keep it running to another whole day.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Day 4, Rot sets in
Im wrtiting this from a small room in an irish B and B where the very handsome team have decided that enough is enough, were sick of rain and wind and have hankered down to recharge their batteries. The scene is reminissent of a WW1 action movie as the team mingle themselves into some strange kind of human stew mixed with dirty clothes and mud.
The day started brilliantly, Sharon (She with the barn) woke us early with boiled eggs and tea then set us off on our merry ways with packed lunches and an invite to return whenever we wanted to. Last night was amazing, sleeping in the barn (I promise to do it again someday) warm (via a heater stolen from the set of the Star Trek Enterprise) and refreshed. Rob was strangley missing, he had made a comment about needing the toilet but that had been an hour before, we thought he had maybe had another one of his "incidents" and had maybe once again been arrested for it. He's famous for it in Buckley you know and locals just put it down to him being eccentric.
What we discovered on further investigation was Rob, full of boiled eggs, toast and hot tea, chewing the fat and discussing Jeremey Kyle with our hostess. He had clean forgotten his two team mates in his rush for the showers, toilet and food.
We waved our goodbyes, played with Teaser the worlds cutest dog a little and we were off. 45 seconds later it was like the previous 14 hours hadn't happened. We were wet, cold, being thrown around the road like a flea on a dogs testicles and we were still in sight of the farm house.
Now I must explain, you don't really ride these bikes, the weather, the wind, the rain, medium to large bugs etc all have an input into how the bike rides you, they're not fast but you kind of try to control them in these conditions but the truth be know you go where they take you. I tried to ride mine like Martin Finnegan used to ride his superbike yesterday, head down, bum up but I was kidding myself, I still got a puncture so the chaser won again!!
We hit Donegal an hour later, Sligo 2 hours after that and the trip was rolling, the miles were sweeping beneath our wheels and we all laughed heartily at a coffee break (ring out your gloves and try to get warm break) as we hit another milestone as we all overtook the same vehicle for the first time on this journey. I'm not sure the tractor driver saw us coming but the 2 fingered salute and mouthed "Feck Off!" kinda told me he wasn't so happy. The current score on the overtaking boards is Chicken chasers 1, Population of Ireland 13,423.
Hammering down the country lanes, rain lashing your face is a great way to spend a precious week of you holidays, it does get worse however as you suddenly lose control of the back wheel (again) and you realize your running on the rim for the 4th time this week. Yes, Gollobski (me) had punctured again. The following tantrum was of epic proportions, much worse than the previous day. The bike was thrown into the hedge, then kicked, then told to go do things to itself usually saved for specialist dvds bought in Amsterdam. After we flagged a tractor down to remove the bike from the hedge, we then flagged a transit van down and got a lift to a town called connemararoughneeesomething.
We got it fixed, for free again, and headed off into the wilds. At 5pm we had basically had enough and looked for a B and B. After being told that there was no room at the inn a couple of times we found a room at a house owned by the worlds most religious woman. She was on her way to a funeral but we could have a room, I apologized for her loss but she said "Ahh Jeez, I didn't even know the Fecker" Maybe she's the priest??
We all laughed as she got in her neighbours car (I hope the neighbour knew) and whhoooossshhh, she was gone. Her husband, who had been a shining example of good manners then let go about 18 "F" words in his first sentance, I think he was glad just to have some to swear with.
The B andf B is in a place called Knock, its very religious here and I feel a little guilty and the holy mother wall bust looks down on me with slitty eyes. She knows Im talking about her! We decided that we had had enough of all this unhealthy eating and a restaurant would be good. We walked to town and the first one was closed, as was the second, the third, the fourth and the next 3 pubs. Halflife commented he may look to open somewhere over here as the business they do in the day must be so good they don't have to open at nights. This town is DEAD!
We searched for somewhere to eat and ended up in a pub which advertized all day breakfasts, unfortunatley 8pm is not classed as day so we were offered a toastie but opted for the meal in itself pint of Guinness.
Walking home again we happened across a little diner type place run by Danny DeVito's doppellganger. Once again we made our way thru the order, reciting the C90 story and comprehending 1 word in 5. We laughed at what we thought were the right places and were doing fine till we realized he was talking about the dog he just had put to sleep and was actually crying. Why do some people do that, laugh at times they shouldn't? beats me.
So here I lay, on my left hand side, cuddling a very attractive pillow, Halflife is snoring like an asthmatic pit pony, Carpboy is scratching himself.
Im off to listen to some Beyonce
Peace be the Journey
xox
The day started brilliantly, Sharon (She with the barn) woke us early with boiled eggs and tea then set us off on our merry ways with packed lunches and an invite to return whenever we wanted to. Last night was amazing, sleeping in the barn (I promise to do it again someday) warm (via a heater stolen from the set of the Star Trek Enterprise) and refreshed. Rob was strangley missing, he had made a comment about needing the toilet but that had been an hour before, we thought he had maybe had another one of his "incidents" and had maybe once again been arrested for it. He's famous for it in Buckley you know and locals just put it down to him being eccentric.
What we discovered on further investigation was Rob, full of boiled eggs, toast and hot tea, chewing the fat and discussing Jeremey Kyle with our hostess. He had clean forgotten his two team mates in his rush for the showers, toilet and food.
We waved our goodbyes, played with Teaser the worlds cutest dog a little and we were off. 45 seconds later it was like the previous 14 hours hadn't happened. We were wet, cold, being thrown around the road like a flea on a dogs testicles and we were still in sight of the farm house.
Now I must explain, you don't really ride these bikes, the weather, the wind, the rain, medium to large bugs etc all have an input into how the bike rides you, they're not fast but you kind of try to control them in these conditions but the truth be know you go where they take you. I tried to ride mine like Martin Finnegan used to ride his superbike yesterday, head down, bum up but I was kidding myself, I still got a puncture so the chaser won again!!
We hit Donegal an hour later, Sligo 2 hours after that and the trip was rolling, the miles were sweeping beneath our wheels and we all laughed heartily at a coffee break (ring out your gloves and try to get warm break) as we hit another milestone as we all overtook the same vehicle for the first time on this journey. I'm not sure the tractor driver saw us coming but the 2 fingered salute and mouthed "Feck Off!" kinda told me he wasn't so happy. The current score on the overtaking boards is Chicken chasers 1, Population of Ireland 13,423.
Hammering down the country lanes, rain lashing your face is a great way to spend a precious week of you holidays, it does get worse however as you suddenly lose control of the back wheel (again) and you realize your running on the rim for the 4th time this week. Yes, Gollobski (me) had punctured again. The following tantrum was of epic proportions, much worse than the previous day. The bike was thrown into the hedge, then kicked, then told to go do things to itself usually saved for specialist dvds bought in Amsterdam. After we flagged a tractor down to remove the bike from the hedge, we then flagged a transit van down and got a lift to a town called connemararoughneeesomething.
We got it fixed, for free again, and headed off into the wilds. At 5pm we had basically had enough and looked for a B and B. After being told that there was no room at the inn a couple of times we found a room at a house owned by the worlds most religious woman. She was on her way to a funeral but we could have a room, I apologized for her loss but she said "Ahh Jeez, I didn't even know the Fecker" Maybe she's the priest??
We all laughed as she got in her neighbours car (I hope the neighbour knew) and whhoooossshhh, she was gone. Her husband, who had been a shining example of good manners then let go about 18 "F" words in his first sentance, I think he was glad just to have some to swear with.
The B andf B is in a place called Knock, its very religious here and I feel a little guilty and the holy mother wall bust looks down on me with slitty eyes. She knows Im talking about her! We decided that we had had enough of all this unhealthy eating and a restaurant would be good. We walked to town and the first one was closed, as was the second, the third, the fourth and the next 3 pubs. Halflife commented he may look to open somewhere over here as the business they do in the day must be so good they don't have to open at nights. This town is DEAD!
We searched for somewhere to eat and ended up in a pub which advertized all day breakfasts, unfortunatley 8pm is not classed as day so we were offered a toastie but opted for the meal in itself pint of Guinness.
Walking home again we happened across a little diner type place run by Danny DeVito's doppellganger. Once again we made our way thru the order, reciting the C90 story and comprehending 1 word in 5. We laughed at what we thought were the right places and were doing fine till we realized he was talking about the dog he just had put to sleep and was actually crying. Why do some people do that, laugh at times they shouldn't? beats me.
So here I lay, on my left hand side, cuddling a very attractive pillow, Halflife is snoring like an asthmatic pit pony, Carpboy is scratching himself.
Im off to listen to some Beyonce
Peace be the Journey
xox
Monday, May 4, 2009
Welcome back to the award winning Chasing Chickens round Ireland blog where you can follow the exploits of our Honda heroes. 
We left you hanging in obvious suspense as our loveable, cuddly and insanely handsome threesome were heading towards the Giants Causeway thru storms, rain, hail, sleet, organized homosexual demonstrations, house fires, beached whales, volcanoes, eurovision song contest winning skirtless queue jumpers and force 324 gales.
After cramming our huge backpacks and in Gollobskis case, front pack too, onto the bus (as we're too lazy to walk) to get to the stones, we made our way onto the world famous ignious rock formation. Carpboy was first to hit trouble, hassled by an obvious ladyboy, he hid himself away in a small cove, arms wrapped round his knees, rocking backwards and forewards shaking his head.
Halflife was next, after helping a small group of mexican schoolboys onto the rocks he then exposed himself to a group of american tourists, who tried to recruit him for the next series of American Cripple hosted by Ryan Seabreeze, they felt his walking movement could inspire a new dance craze, they got as far as naming it "The Thud"
As we queued for the bus to return to the visitors centre we noticed a celebrity queue jumper at play. Cheryl Baker had obvioulsy made her mind up (apologies ok?? but what did you expect when such an obvious pun presents itself) that she was taking our spaces. One for her and two for her massive ego.
As the fish boy routinely blew up the hand dryers trying to warm his gloves Gollobski went and knocked on the door of the queue jumpers limobus. “Is Cheryl Baker in here?” “No” the overly officious peak on the bridge of the nose, tosspot driver replied obviously oblivious to the fact she was sitting 4 inches from where I (Gollobski) stood. “Yes you have, she’s right there!” Anyway, shortly afterwards she was being photographed by the bikes with Halflife and Gollobski, she wanted some autographs and Halflifes home phone number but he denied her advances. She was dragged away by the ears and the local Garda needed to be called.
After locating a handy camp site, and Carpboy acquiring the pitches for free by a) failing by using charm, b) Threatening the owner with Gollobski’s 6ft 6 formidable frame and finally c) Succeeding by showing him Halflifes scarred arms, we set the tents and got ready for the ride to Joey Dunlops bar in Ballymoney.
After and during the Guinness, Gollobski met Danny, a life long friend of the brilliant but unfortunately late Robert Dunlop, well I thought that’s who he was, how do I put it??….I know, he was leathered and I only understood one word in 5. He showed me his zippo lighter and invited me to visit his family but I had other things on my mind, we all needed food.
After paying £476.27 for 3 steak Keebabs we were offered free cups of tea as the girls took pity on Halflife and Gollobski and took a shine to the ever increasingly handsome Carpboy. We think their love of the fish loving fiend came from the cctv footage of his “kiddie piss”, you know the ones where you have to have your pants round you ankles and you arch your back making patterns with you urine stream. The one girl, who resembled Gengis Khan with a redwine hangover really liked him, offering him her phone number and a picture of her taken at work in her other job as a lobster fisherman.
We drove back to the site thru the sleet and were soaked to the skin by the time we reached our tents. Gollobski was happy to find he couldn’t lie down in a position without touching the sides of the tent, Carpboy soaked his sleeping bag by catching his head on the tent and flicking the water inside and Halflife assumed the lotus position, lit his aromatherapy candles, pressed play on the cd player and fell into a deep meditative state with Kenny Gee echoing round the tent, Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Day 3, Portrush to Donegal
On waking, Gollobski discovered he had slept the night in a puddle of dirty water and was kinda upset and wanted revenge on his ridiculous sleeping hovel. The team decided that it was time to kill the tent so after a short trial the “tent” was accused and successfully convicted of crimes against camping and sentenced to death by Manmaid ridden chicken chaser. Carpboy hopped with glee and fired up his C90 in anticipation. The ensuing ride thru was not pretty and the tent began a fight but Al made it thru and the tent was pronounced dead at 10.09 by a local shop owner. It was buried in a local dustbin by Gollobski after a short service where Gollobski made a moving speech “Now F**k off”
After a major Full Irish breakfast we set off for Londonderry………
The ride was eventful, the wind reached mammoth proportions and actually had the front wheels off the ground at certain times but we carried on ringing the necks of the bikes, buffeted to hell, blown all over the place but attacking the roads like Martin Finnegan used to.
Seriously this is the only way to ride this weather on these bikes, after a 2 hour ride to Letterkenny we felt like we’d raced 3 TT races back to back but it was the most exhilarating ride of the trip so far, then we met Eamonn.
Now Eamonn is a character, he sat in his white van, mumbling away about Honda c90’s, restaurants, The Euro, the Pie he was eating, the price of cheese in Lithuania, how to artificially inseminate a goat, the pie he was eating, Chickens, goats, pies, goats and pies.
The type of person you meet sitting in a white van can be judged solely on the state of the inside of the interior. If you meet a stable, normal run of the mill type person, its usually clean ish. If you meet someone who was potty trained at gun point their interior is spotless. Eamonn on the other hand sat beneath at least 4 inches of crumbs, the back of the van had an oil drum, a sheeps head, a strimmer and a saxophone in it. On the dash board lay 14 empty special brew cans and a copy of Hello magazine from 1998. I think we can deduce which group Eamonn resides in, he resides in the mental group, he was as mad as 3 trout.
With Letterkenny in the distance behind us we went on our merry way, riding them like ye stole them till once again, Gollobskis back wheel let go and another puncture was located.
A tantrum of monumental proportions was then embarked upon where Gollobski kicked, thought about it, kicked again twice, put on the stand and dragged 4 feet backwards, kicked again twice more and threw his helmet on the floor. Halflife and Carpboy helped by laughing their arses off.
Then came our angel, Sharon Lafferty, a local mother of 5 drove past and asked if we needed any help. Little did we know this help would consist of ham sandwiches, lifts, a farmyard barn for the night, Many cups of tea, showers, food, and a whole load of support.
We currently sit in the U drop in, in Ballybofey writing this blog update, the journey is continuing, the laughs are getting more, the love by the Irish is increasing and the Guinness is going down easier than ever.
See yous our friends
We left you hanging in obvious suspense as our loveable, cuddly and insanely handsome threesome were heading towards the Giants Causeway thru storms, rain, hail, sleet, organized homosexual demonstrations, house fires, beached whales, volcanoes, eurovision song contest winning skirtless queue jumpers and force 324 gales.
After cramming our huge backpacks and in Gollobskis case, front pack too, onto the bus (as we're too lazy to walk) to get to the stones, we made our way onto the world famous ignious rock formation. Carpboy was first to hit trouble, hassled by an obvious ladyboy, he hid himself away in a small cove, arms wrapped round his knees, rocking backwards and forewards shaking his head.
Halflife was next, after helping a small group of mexican schoolboys onto the rocks he then exposed himself to a group of american tourists, who tried to recruit him for the next series of American Cripple hosted by Ryan Seabreeze, they felt his walking movement could inspire a new dance craze, they got as far as naming it "The Thud"As we queued for the bus to return to the visitors centre we noticed a celebrity queue jumper at play. Cheryl Baker had obvioulsy made her mind up (apologies ok?? but what did you expect when such an obvious pun presents itself) that she was taking our spaces. One for her and two for her massive ego.
As the fish boy routinely blew up the hand dryers trying to warm his gloves Gollobski went and knocked on the door of the queue jumpers limobus. “Is Cheryl Baker in here?” “No” the overly officious peak on the bridge of the nose, tosspot driver replied obviously oblivious to the fact she was sitting 4 inches from where I (Gollobski) stood. “Yes you have, she’s right there!” Anyway, shortly afterwards she was being photographed by the bikes with Halflife and Gollobski, she wanted some autographs and Halflifes home phone number but he denied her advances. She was dragged away by the ears and the local Garda needed to be called.
After locating a handy camp site, and Carpboy acquiring the pitches for free by a) failing by using charm, b) Threatening the owner with Gollobski’s 6ft 6 formidable frame and finally c) Succeeding by showing him Halflifes scarred arms, we set the tents and got ready for the ride to Joey Dunlops bar in Ballymoney.
After and during the Guinness, Gollobski met Danny, a life long friend of the brilliant but unfortunately late Robert Dunlop, well I thought that’s who he was, how do I put it??….I know, he was leathered and I only understood one word in 5. He showed me his zippo lighter and invited me to visit his family but I had other things on my mind, we all needed food.
After paying £476.27 for 3 steak Keebabs we were offered free cups of tea as the girls took pity on Halflife and Gollobski and took a shine to the ever increasingly handsome Carpboy. We think their love of the fish loving fiend came from the cctv footage of his “kiddie piss”, you know the ones where you have to have your pants round you ankles and you arch your back making patterns with you urine stream. The one girl, who resembled Gengis Khan with a redwine hangover really liked him, offering him her phone number and a picture of her taken at work in her other job as a lobster fisherman.
We drove back to the site thru the sleet and were soaked to the skin by the time we reached our tents. Gollobski was happy to find he couldn’t lie down in a position without touching the sides of the tent, Carpboy soaked his sleeping bag by catching his head on the tent and flicking the water inside and Halflife assumed the lotus position, lit his aromatherapy candles, pressed play on the cd player and fell into a deep meditative state with Kenny Gee echoing round the tent, Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Day 3, Portrush to Donegal
On waking, Gollobski discovered he had slept the night in a puddle of dirty water and was kinda upset and wanted revenge on his ridiculous sleeping hovel. The team decided that it was time to kill the tent so after a short trial the “tent” was accused and successfully convicted of crimes against camping and sentenced to death by Manmaid ridden chicken chaser. Carpboy hopped with glee and fired up his C90 in anticipation. The ensuing ride thru was not pretty and the tent began a fight but Al made it thru and the tent was pronounced dead at 10.09 by a local shop owner. It was buried in a local dustbin by Gollobski after a short service where Gollobski made a moving speech “Now F**k off”
After a major Full Irish breakfast we set off for Londonderry………
The ride was eventful, the wind reached mammoth proportions and actually had the front wheels off the ground at certain times but we carried on ringing the necks of the bikes, buffeted to hell, blown all over the place but attacking the roads like Martin Finnegan used to.
Seriously this is the only way to ride this weather on these bikes, after a 2 hour ride to Letterkenny we felt like we’d raced 3 TT races back to back but it was the most exhilarating ride of the trip so far, then we met Eamonn.
Now Eamonn is a character, he sat in his white van, mumbling away about Honda c90’s, restaurants, The Euro, the Pie he was eating, the price of cheese in Lithuania, how to artificially inseminate a goat, the pie he was eating, Chickens, goats, pies, goats and pies.
The type of person you meet sitting in a white van can be judged solely on the state of the inside of the interior. If you meet a stable, normal run of the mill type person, its usually clean ish. If you meet someone who was potty trained at gun point their interior is spotless. Eamonn on the other hand sat beneath at least 4 inches of crumbs, the back of the van had an oil drum, a sheeps head, a strimmer and a saxophone in it. On the dash board lay 14 empty special brew cans and a copy of Hello magazine from 1998. I think we can deduce which group Eamonn resides in, he resides in the mental group, he was as mad as 3 trout.
With Letterkenny in the distance behind us we went on our merry way, riding them like ye stole them till once again, Gollobskis back wheel let go and another puncture was located.
A tantrum of monumental proportions was then embarked upon where Gollobski kicked, thought about it, kicked again twice, put on the stand and dragged 4 feet backwards, kicked again twice more and threw his helmet on the floor. Halflife and Carpboy helped by laughing their arses off.
Then came our angel, Sharon Lafferty, a local mother of 5 drove past and asked if we needed any help. Little did we know this help would consist of ham sandwiches, lifts, a farmyard barn for the night, Many cups of tea, showers, food, and a whole load of support.
We currently sit in the U drop in, in Ballybofey writing this blog update, the journey is continuing, the laughs are getting more, the love by the Irish is increasing and the Guinness is going down easier than ever.
See yous our friends
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Vivaldi Bikers and 2 days in one
(photos to follow)
Arriving at Dublin Port at 5.45am our heroic trio set off on their ride of a life time unbeknown of the trials ahead.
After getting themselves onto the M1 and fighting the lorries back drafts it was time for a break. Halflife cleverly mentioned to Gollobski that his chain looked loose so 1 hour into the trip the seal was broken on the extensive tool kit and the fiddling began. After successfully addressing the chain issue, Gollobski then managed to strip the thread on the lock nut making the following hours motorway ride extremely nervous.
Some great moments as we were recognized at the motorway toll station by fellow bikers and people blowing their car horns as the overtook us at speed..
We were on our way and the world was good, that was till 2 miles from Tandragee where we had places in the VIP box. Siomha, Gollobskis bike, then decided it had had enough and spewed the rear wheel bushes all over the road rendering the Hapless Gollobski bikeless. After some swift thinking and some 2 up’s the team went to the races as planned, watched a few and had a bloody good time with Ian and Shelia from the organizers of the meeting. Carpboy and Halflife decided to go find someone to rethread the spindle and ended up in Armagh at the worlds most scary cycle shop owner. “Ee were 85, and Arr wooden buy a bark of im if ee were givin emway” Quipped the fish loving teamster but P**s taking aside the bike would be fixed and would be on the road again.
After 2 hours fixing Gollobski had his fat arse back on his speedster and the team were on the road again.
By 10.30 in was raining cats and dogs, we were on the motorway, avoiding massive trucks trying to kill us and soaked, the first rule of the trip (only use what you can carry) was smashed and we opted for the BandB route. £39, 3 sausage rolls, 6 pints of Guinness and some crisps later we slept like babes till the sun rose.
Day 2, Not again
The early start oddly didn’t materialize following the fight with the Guinness and only after a full Irish breakfast, tea and a perv at the waitresses did we get on the road.
It amazes me (Gollobski) the reaction we are getting, While once again filling with fuel a top guy called Paul Gervin from Manchester came and talked to us about out bikes. He donated to the cause and was on his way but it really touched me that someone believed in us enough to give us a good sum of cash on the side of the road. I would soon be amazed again.
As we reached Martinssomething or other (cant remember the name) Al suggested I put a little air in the tyre, I thought, after examination, that he was correct, the tyre was flat. Now normally this would cause so much heart ache but to ensure the new spindle didn’t unload me into the armco barriers on the motorways we had used some liquid metal provided by Simon, John Burrows’ mechanic, to weld the new lock nut into place. The horror that we couldn’t get the back wheel out if we wanted to was obvious to all.
Luckily enough we then bumped into Hugh, who worked at Stockton and sons, he said not to worry and began eating a cheese and onions sandwich. He said he would sort it out and don’t worry about the liquid metal because to quote “Art’ll be nay problem”
Unbelievable as it sounds he sorted the lot and once again I was stunned as he flatly refused to accept any money from us, Thank you my friend, you helped us keep this going. The hospitality shown to us here is amazing, everyone really wants us to carry on and “get Ireland” for them,
We will.
Tomorrow we will continue day 2 where Gollobski punctures again, Carpboy get thrown out of the Giants Causeway, we get 4 seasons in an hour, we visit Joeys bar and talk to Ireland maddest man, we meet Cheryl Baker from Bucks fizz ( actually that’s not any of my usual bulls**t) and we camp out in the wilderness for the night.
Arriving at Dublin Port at 5.45am our heroic trio set off on their ride of a life time unbeknown of the trials ahead.
After getting themselves onto the M1 and fighting the lorries back drafts it was time for a break. Halflife cleverly mentioned to Gollobski that his chain looked loose so 1 hour into the trip the seal was broken on the extensive tool kit and the fiddling began. After successfully addressing the chain issue, Gollobski then managed to strip the thread on the lock nut making the following hours motorway ride extremely nervous.
Some great moments as we were recognized at the motorway toll station by fellow bikers and people blowing their car horns as the overtook us at speed..
We were on our way and the world was good, that was till 2 miles from Tandragee where we had places in the VIP box. Siomha, Gollobskis bike, then decided it had had enough and spewed the rear wheel bushes all over the road rendering the Hapless Gollobski bikeless. After some swift thinking and some 2 up’s the team went to the races as planned, watched a few and had a bloody good time with Ian and Shelia from the organizers of the meeting. Carpboy and Halflife decided to go find someone to rethread the spindle and ended up in Armagh at the worlds most scary cycle shop owner. “Ee were 85, and Arr wooden buy a bark of im if ee were givin emway” Quipped the fish loving teamster but P**s taking aside the bike would be fixed and would be on the road again.
After 2 hours fixing Gollobski had his fat arse back on his speedster and the team were on the road again.
By 10.30 in was raining cats and dogs, we were on the motorway, avoiding massive trucks trying to kill us and soaked, the first rule of the trip (only use what you can carry) was smashed and we opted for the BandB route. £39, 3 sausage rolls, 6 pints of Guinness and some crisps later we slept like babes till the sun rose.
Day 2, Not again
The early start oddly didn’t materialize following the fight with the Guinness and only after a full Irish breakfast, tea and a perv at the waitresses did we get on the road.
It amazes me (Gollobski) the reaction we are getting, While once again filling with fuel a top guy called Paul Gervin from Manchester came and talked to us about out bikes. He donated to the cause and was on his way but it really touched me that someone believed in us enough to give us a good sum of cash on the side of the road. I would soon be amazed again.
As we reached Martinssomething or other (cant remember the name) Al suggested I put a little air in the tyre, I thought, after examination, that he was correct, the tyre was flat. Now normally this would cause so much heart ache but to ensure the new spindle didn’t unload me into the armco barriers on the motorways we had used some liquid metal provided by Simon, John Burrows’ mechanic, to weld the new lock nut into place. The horror that we couldn’t get the back wheel out if we wanted to was obvious to all.
Luckily enough we then bumped into Hugh, who worked at Stockton and sons, he said not to worry and began eating a cheese and onions sandwich. He said he would sort it out and don’t worry about the liquid metal because to quote “Art’ll be nay problem”
Unbelievable as it sounds he sorted the lot and once again I was stunned as he flatly refused to accept any money from us, Thank you my friend, you helped us keep this going. The hospitality shown to us here is amazing, everyone really wants us to carry on and “get Ireland” for them,
We will.
Tomorrow we will continue day 2 where Gollobski punctures again, Carpboy get thrown out of the Giants Causeway, we get 4 seasons in an hour, we visit Joeys bar and talk to Ireland maddest man, we meet Cheryl Baker from Bucks fizz ( actually that’s not any of my usual bulls**t) and we camp out in the wilderness for the night.
Chasing Chickens team make it to Ireland....just!
Well the boys made it to Ireland but only just. The day we were due to set off more problems were discovered with Halflifes bargain ebay purchase. First, the exhaust fell off, (probably the seller never had any putty left to hold it together). This brought the best out of the team though with Gollobski and Carpboy springing into action. Gollobski put his extensive group of friends on the case which left him looking for an exhaust on his own. We wasted 3 hours in the morning explaining to Carpboy what an exhaust was leaving Halflife to source the offending item himself from the Chester Honda Chester.
After a lengthy explanation to the lads at the Honda center using words and phases such as 'crisis', 'help', 'its for charity' and 'think of the children, wont someone please think of the children', exactly 0% discount was provided. Thanks Chaps.
The exhaust was fitted only to find (with 3 hours to go) that the bike would not go more than 15 mile per hour. A quick run (well actually a very slow run) up to Lee Hughes' who had previously saved the day with the putty piston and the problem was sorted. It was discovered the previous owner had tightened the tappets right down leaving no compression. We started to suspect that the seller was trying to sabotage the trip but then finalised on the fact that he was just a village idiot with all the mechanical know how of a toddler and his first Fisher Price Laugh and Learn Tool set.
Against all the odds we made it though. Halflife turned up at the castle car part as arranged at 6pm with Carpboy and Gollobski turning up moments later at 7.30pm.
As expected there was a crowd of well wishers there to see us off, we were worried at one point that a police escort may be required but the six strong crowed were well behaved and ‘just there for the crack’.
The ride to Hollyhead was fairly uneventful. A first fuel stop took place just outside Chester. The team got a little concerned though that they may not have brought enough money to get them to the ferry with Halflifes bike taking £0.57 of fuel (Buckley to Chester to Sealand road on £0.57 of fuel!!!). To try and offset the high cost of fuel Halflife ‘accidentally’ stole a £0.60 snickers bar and was later heard to say that it was ‘the voices in my head’ that made him do it.
We set off up the coast road but soon realised that the cars were holding us back and we needed to unleash the speed and power of the C90’s if we stood any chance of making the ferry that was due to leave in only 7 hours time so we joined the A55. Carpboy once again rubbed our faces in it with his mint eBay purchase, easily the fasted bike of the three leaving us to suspect that he had fitted a 125cc pit bike engine. Gollobski commented that his bike ‘was the slowest of the three’, and the other two consoled him by agreeing it was the bike!
Fellow work colleague Matt White met us by the bridge into Anglesey taking us back to his house for a curry and well earned cup of tea and then it was off at 12.38 for the final push to the ferry. After a couple of pints of Murphys we settled down for a few valuable hours kip on the ferry. On awaking at Dublin Carp boy commented that he did not remember removing his trousers to go to sleep but the three burley builders that were sitting next to him convinced him that he had although he was not able to question them any further as they disappeared rather quick.6.00 am on the morning of the 2nd May as we had made it. Only another 1200 miles to go.
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