G Day Report

G Day stands for Gay Day...... so says the assistant Grudgemeister, and he wasn't far wrong. A day that promised so much in the end delivered three parts of bugger all.

The AG leading from the front....

To begin, the boys had the honor of 'teaching' an English class at the local high school. Let's just say all high schools should be this good. ASBO was unable to communicate, a mutant beast incapable of speech, being left to dribble as he czeched out the racks on the local underage totty. Not sure what these girlies eat for breakfast, but they do not want for milk. The AG stunned the audience with his mastery of the Czech language, responding to a question "What do you do for fun?" with "You!". That poor girl was apparently Sticky Beavers little sister, but more on that later.

A lunch at Tomas grandparents, followed by an impromptu accordion concert which had ASBO polka crazy, we went in search of coke. Seemed like Choceň is a Pepsi town.

Following his sterling performance in front of 22 nubile Czech wenches, the AG retired to the Grudge suite for a bit of R and R. Grudgemeister and the two competitors headed off in the GrudgeSkoda to find Brad Pitt, on location in a town not far away.

Brad Pitt, on location...beer in hand, porno on PC....what life!

After hooking up with Brad, and taking tea with Brads mum and dad, who incidentally, is the scale king of Czech, we rolled back to TomasTown to pick up the AG and head off into the night. The boys made a bee line for Club Sticky Beaver, a potato pancakery with possibly the happiest waitress this side of Mick Hills missus after the AG has dropped over. The AG entertained the locals by explaining how Santa Claus lost the league for Arsenal in 1999.

400 beers and 2 quid later, with the come hither smile of Sticky Beaver indelibly etched in our minds, we trudged off into the balmy evening to Chinatown, a seedy Russian mafia run gambling den whose roulette wheel refused to allow the ball to drop on 35, despite Grudgemeister investing a fortune on the possibility such an event occuring. ASBO used his best Czech to chat up the town bike and his abo thieving skills to tea leaf a few baguettes from behind the bar. Grudgey, distraught after losing small fortune, passed out at the bar after muliple semtex infusions. Brad Pitt was in his element, playing wingman to ASBOs increasingly desperate efforts to impregnate the local slapper, Angelina Jolie. The AG had meanwhile cleaned up on roulette, and Tomas still, after 12 hours of trying, been unable locate a working dart board and darts to allow the Grudgeathlon to commence.

In short, it was a day like any other. We got shit faced, and the Grudgeathlon was what its always been, a couple of pissed twats talking bullshit.