‘I say, your engine’s nice and tight,’ says Surfy Steve. ‘And the steering is sensitive too…but that might just be the used tissue on the drive axle. Did you leave that there on purpose as a talking point?’
I glance over at this pie-faced young perisher in the driving seat and groan inwardly. This is looking like an awfully long journey; earplugs can drown out only so much.
‘Shall I write a guest blog?’ he continues intractably, oblivious to my monosyllabic responses. ‘It would be brilliant. I could write about this journey…Oh hang on, we’ve got an incoming prick. Some Johnny Foreigner overtaking, don’t you know. Good Lord, it’s a burly woman driving – she looks like she could wrestle a thousand apes.’
I bury my ears further into the duvet and feign a light snore; there’s a limit to the dross a sane man can take. But to shut him up, I do agree to publishing his highly self-acclaimed masterpiece. Bear in mind he’s using this medium principally as a means to meet girls, though. So, should you be the sort of delicious creature that loves a well-schooled, rugged, charismatic adventurer, then email me. Whoops, I mean him. His address is budesurf@hotmail.com. As P.G. Wodehouse would have said, I’d love to give two fond hearts a leg-up..
“It is a glorious day. Spring has sprung, and I’m on the road again
, heading south to Madrid from Paris with the venerable Barnaby Davies. I, Steve Maclure (surfer extraordinaire) am here in Barnaby’s truck – also known as Hotel DAF – to help (or hinder, depending on your view) navigate ourselves and Taylor Swift’s equipment to Spain. Then we’re off northward to Blighty – to the dizzy heights of Birmingham for the first of her UK shows (yes, Taylor is a she).
At this point in the guest blog, I must point out that Barnaby has to suffer my company for six days; the suffering is in the form of listening as I happen to talk quite a lot. In fact, almost non-stop. Hence some of my nicknames past and present: Chatty Steve, Jibba Jabba, Talk A Lot, Jackanory etc. So I’d like to take this opportunity to thank him for his patience and hope that his blood-stained ears heal up quickly.
So, where were we? Ah yes, on the road to Madrid. It’s been a smooth and event-free trip into Iberia. {Well, why fucking mention it, then? – The Editor} My only complaint is that Barnaby’s truck suffers from ‘American Steering’. You know, how you see the movie stars constantly steering left to right just to go in a straight line? This thankfully is giving me somet
hing to do on the tedious plains of Spain – namely, steer non-stop to keep us off the rumble strip to avoid waking the sleeping Barnaby who doesn’t like to drive outside daylight hours. Subsequently…”
Me again. Well look, it drones on like this for a bit longer and doesn’t go anywhere at all. And even the above I’ve had to tidy up grammatically. Sorry Surfy, I know you’ve already heavily edited, but better luck next time, my old silver tureen. Tell you what, though, I’ll promote your new, all-speed-no-limits “vehicle movement and management” website instead – it’s worth visiting, folks! See you in Belarus on Shakira…
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