weird cunt

Spend a few days going to the beach, eating cous-cous, smoking spliffs, playing four player pro-evo against the computer and applying Rupert's ridiculous factor fifty sun block. I get my car fixed, it costs me one-hundred and thirty-five pounds and ninety-five pence becuse they insist on me getting new brake discs aswell as new brake pads, which is what I originally sought for. I miss the first bus to the garage cos it is a saturday and not a weekday. I then sit in Robin's room while he rolls us a spliff. He manages to make the joint with atrocious precision as to coincide with me leaving his room to get the next bus. which arrives late. I drive out of the garage with my new car listening to Limp Bizkit and a chick winks at me. I get petrol and that costs thirty quid.

Back at maritime Rupert is watching the FA cup final in Lakers but Laker and Andy are in Robins still, watching The Lion Man. We pack the car choc-a-bloc with camping stuff and people and drive to Tesco to get 18 bottles of Carlsberg Export each and some doughnuts for snax. We drive to the beach and we cant fucking stand it. some people are rubbish at the beach. Me, Laker and Andy go for an explore, we skim stones for ages, drink a few bottles and then Andy goes for a piss. Me and Laker find an archway on the cliff made from bushes and brambles and we go through it; deciding it would be nice for a blowy; and it comes out into a field with yellow flowers and a dissaproving couple. Andy has done one, and he pretends that he walked for miles past a house, but we just say he has taken a shit.

At the beach again with everybody else - we have a swim - not the girls - so it is just the boys - but Wood, Chris and Stu have gone on a Ray Meares in the rockpools, killing fish and chopping wood like real men. the waters cold. the tides coming in. so we move our stuff closer to the rocks - which is further away from the tide. Me and Andy have a chilling sesh in my car cos Laker is taking a poo in the field. he is using my Dawlish Town AFC magazine as paper.

Later on we sing twit twoo around a fire, eat chicken dippers and throw rocks at people who take a leak on the beach. Stuart pulls me a few times, but I have to keep my wits about me because he is drunk and is acting like an outrageous flirt. But Im a one track lover, down a two-way lane.