30th September 1988 - Prowlers BC
And it came to pass that the loyal followers returned again to that land overlooking a section of the thoroughfare known as the M25, to partake of intoxicating beverages of uncertain potency, food of uncertain age or origin, music of uncertain provenance, and scantily clad ladies of uncertain, though in many cases quite decent, backgrounds.
As is usual in rallies at this time of year, plenty of firewood is available for individual clubs to have their own fires, although one club decided to build a shelter out of some of the larger pallets provided. This was the Vegetable Liberation Front, from 'Welwyn Toxicated', who campaign against causing the death of innocent vegetables and usually bring a pig to roast over their fire. Burning wood doesn't count as vegetation, apparently.
After this, the Friday night continued much as any other, with people climbing poles and stuffing straw in each other's clothing. There may have been beer and music involved, but you can never be sure.
There were quite a few entrants for the bike awards on Saturday. One thing about this rally was that you could be sure of some quite tasty customised and restored classic bikes, and ones that were ridden, not just for show. There were awards for these paint jobs, but not for the painted faces of many attendees, of which there were quite a few.
The games were well contested, as was the bit of mucking-around afterwards. The trouble is, riding with the passenger sitting on top of the rider is not recommended in a field with such a slope as this one, (or maybe it was the beer again?)
Pete Snow was up to his old tricks of covering himself and others in shaving foam and mud, and a friend showed me she was prepared, (probably that beer again), for the competition later.
A rally-virgin got tied to a tent pole, and there was a Beer Belly competition, followed by the girls showing a fair bit more than their bellies.
For a change, the music was supplied by a Blues Brothers tribute group, (who's name escapes me for the moment), instead of Ivor's Jivers. A fair bit more of that beer was consumed and some more messiness occurred. Last orders at the bar caused a mad rush of rallyists to one end of the marquee. Actually, if memory serves, the bar only really shut when people stopped buying drinks.
Around at least one of the bonfires later, more than the usual number of full moons could be seen.
- Phil (the Spill) Drackley