I love old people. They just don’t give a s**t do they and often take the liberty of lecturing the ‘younger’ generations. There’s me innocently filling up my water containers here at Warwick Racecourse and some old chap starts on me about the evils of tattoo’s, how they scar you for life and stop you getting decent jobs and don’t I regret mine? Err no I don’t and it’s a bit late now if I did. I could have wheeled out the old chestnut that I’ve worked at The Times but who wants to admit working for News International anymore? People would be less disgusted if I said I lap-danced for a living. This coming from a bloke who had a bird on his forearm from his spell in the army purely cos there was ‘nothing to better to do’. Yep I think my reasons were a hell of a lot better than that.
You’ll notice The Beast has its vile fibreglass bumper back in place. As soon as I find somewhere to store it it’s coming off again. The garage also kindly removed the metal structure bolted to the vans arse that the motorbike rack was fixed to and which had an annoying habit of scraping on the road if you weren’t level. It’s now contributing to their scrap metal Xmas beer fund.