Arriving at Corby (for all those people who missed the Trouser Press reference) I tracked down Chalk kneed Porsche worrier, Powley, who was in charge for the weekend's proceedings and informed me that I had a very important and wicked cool job to do...
Here I can be seen, in my important (some might say vital) role for a large portion of the day: Chief Vans Waffle Maker Guy. By my reckoning, I must have churned out about 100 tepid, half-set doughy waffles to fat kids and pro skaters alike using a variety of different sales pitches including "Have a waffle, you know you're hungry" to an overweight 12 year old and "Eat one, you cunt" to pretty much everyone else.
Here you can see Powley holding £40 of my takings and pondering the depths one man will stoop to at the very hint of "free shoes"...
After a short spell, word must have gotten round that I was straight up killing it at the Waffle stall, and, inevitably, we ran out. This couldn't have happened at a better time as frankly, its fucking boring making waffles, especially when the collected UK Skating Scene is kicking just out of view behind a sea of helmet-wearing fat kids eager for doughy treats, so, having served my time behind a waffle iron, I fucked it off and went to check out the Gnarshredding...
Stu, the inky fingered genius behind the Lovenskate brand and fellow tea enthusiast, made the journey from the big city to stand in front of a Vert ramp so big I'd disgrace myself just peering over the coping. Here he is, looking concerned while Sam Beckett floats a BS Air in the background like its the most natural thing in the world to be dangling 8ft above the coping and 22ft above the floor. A short while later, Beckett pulled a 720 in a run (bearing in mind that he is the first Englishman to do 'em and is still unable to legally drink)
For non skating lurkers: this is a big deal. Hence Stu's concern. Bless him. To cheer him up, we had a bit of a skate: I won my very own "Longest Slappy Noseslide" Competition as everyone else was too scared to enter (that and I didn't tell them) then we went to play in the foam pit. These things are fucking amazing and despite Grosa trying to put me off with stories of Skateparks finding enough used johnnies to refill a bath in the bottom of one, I still couldn't get enough of the foamy bastard and tried, with some degree of sucess to learn Judo Airs before managing to throw some serious shapes with some kind of Airwalk type thing. Either way, it were pretty rad.
With all the skating for the day taken care of, it was time to relocate all 150 odd sweaty arsed skaters (not me, I had a wash) from the skatepark, to the Rugby Club. For those of you unfamiliar with Skateboarding events, I should point out that it would be a lie to say these things were overpopulated with women. By our very nature, the type of place that we would need to hold these events in in order to attract women, wouldn't let us into the carpark, let alone the bar, which is why we end up in Rugby clubs that look like they were used for the interior shots of Phoenix Nights... and skating being a 98% male passtime, these shitty rugby clubs end up with more blokes in them than Steven Gately...
Powley decided that it would be a good idea to get some music and hired a wedding disco, then deciding to do away with any pretence that it was going to be in any way "straight" and requested "the gayest songs you've got" then pointed at me and said "play what you'd play if it was our wedding." The DJ exceeded himself and managed to step it up to 11 gaying the night away with YMCA, the Spice Girls and the Pet Shop Boys whilst watching the Great & The Good of the UK Skate Scene Conga Line Bum each other and dry hump the shit out of anything with testicles... Good times...
Here I am dancing to Copacabana. Look at my little face, I fucking love it...
Rob "Wob" Smith, Gay Night MVP, decided that stage diving would be a good idea so jumped off the balcony...
...right into YMCA... aka "Too Many Dicks On The Dance Floor"
No caption necessary... just look how scared Fraser looks...
A sausage party cocktail...
Mr Nicholson and I keep it civilised...
...while Powley looks like a sexcrime waiting to happen...
This marked the end of our night. I went to bed feeling surprisingly upbeat only to be woken a few hours later by a stoned, inebriated youth, who promptly informed me that he was "going to be sick now" and proceeded to cough up his tiny little stomach all over the bedroom floor of our hotel room. I then went back to sleep, as best as anyone can in a room full of someone else's sick, only to be woken by the same youth kneeling next to my bed trying to put his trousers back on. The reasons for him taking his trousers off in the first place were not entirely clear until the morning when I found a mystifying inch long skidmark on the sink and one of the bathtowels inexplicably smeared with the remnants of a brown sitdown. I did take a photo but shame and desparation forced him to delete them for fear of turning up here... Dear oh dear...
Struggling to come to terms with the atrocities of room 4, I had a quiet sit down and read a magazine from Cockleg's car...
...then went inside and pissed off Cates by not opening up the waffle stall for round 2...
Then loads of stinging skateboarding maneuvers went down and I kind of got distracted watching them... Sorry. Although, to make it up to you, I did find a Scoody Doo outfit. So I put it on...
That was pretty much it. I also got a Mini Vans Keyring of an Authentic which I was pretty stoked on. Then I went home and slept for about 12 hours.
Same time next year...
Next post: I haven't decided yet...
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