Road (Ski) Trip - Part 7

And so to Seattle, their home for just one night this time and their first brush with civilisation in a week. GG (NAG) had booked them into the Westin a bit of a Seattle landmark with twin 47 storey towers and they were quite looking forward to enjoying the view from their 31st floor room.



A quick change and shave and they were heading down to the KeyArena to take in a basketball game between the local Supersonics and the Portland Trailblazers (about as close as it gets to a local derby in North American Sport).

The first disappointment of the night were the ID nazis at the bars who insisted on a) seeing ID for everyone and b) for foreigners insisting this was a passport. As all they had on them was GG (NAG)'s driving licence this was a problem as they could not get a beer.

They managed to spot an elderly black man (this is relevant) serving on his own and decided to try their luck with him. On seeing that GG (NAG) was born in Africa he became rather confused and assumed he must have been a brother and served them, presumably he missed the "South".

The match itself was a slightly one-sided affair with the 'Sonics running out easy winners but was at least enlivened by the mascot (clearly Teenwolf), the cheerleaders and the flying dwarves who all entertained at the various breaks.

Special thanks must goto GG (NAG) for sorting the tickets out which were right on courtside.

Road (Ski) Trip - Part 6

A relatively uneventful return to the USA although the border guards seemed very suspicious at their claim not to be smuggling tobacco and highly unamused at their reponse to "have you bought anything in Canada to import?"; the answer, by the way, was, "just some ski socks."

After supper in the local wedding chapel, again, they got yet another early night in the fabulous Inn at Mount Baker. As usual the matriarchal owners welcomed them with a fine breakfast setting them up a treat for a day on the slopes.

Having already ticked off all the slopes at Mount Baker they had just a half-day cruising around before jumping in the truck down to Seattle.

Road (Ski) Trip - Part 5

We apologise for the radio silence from Whistler but frankly even this correspondent cannot make a silk purse out of the sow's ear of them both being laid up in bed with flu. Somehow the two of them managed to spend the entire time in Whistler (party capital of North American skiing) dragging themselves out of bed to go skiing before having to return to said bed feeling rancid for the evening so there is almost nothing to report.



GG (NAG) insisted on justifying this behaviour on the basis that "we've been there, we've done that and now we are wearing the slippers"; our subject felt obliged to point out that he is 5 years older than GG (NAG).

Despite this they report that they had an excellent time in Whistler and now are heading back to Mount Baker.

Road (Ski) Trip - Part 4

Waking refreshed, and dosed up with horse tranquilizers, they hit the quite brillant slopes of Whistler with the sun beaming down on them. Sadly they had managed to book this element of the trip at President's Week which is by all accounts the busiest week here and so they got to spend much of the day in queues. Fortunately the scenery made up for this minor wrinkle.




Although the (man) flu is really beginning to get them down (Gay George (Not Actually Gay) in particular).

Road (Ski) Trip - Part 3

Well they really are not keeping their end of the bargain, they are so rock and roll that after their first day's skiing they decided to have a little nap about 1800...and woke up at 0700 the next day. We really do struggle to see how we can do anything with this material.

That said with ridiculous quantities sleep inside them they woke up to some amazing weather and a brillant day's skiing and they proceeded to tick off all the runs at Mount Baker.




Having skied themselves into the ground they steeled themselves for the marathon drive up to Whistler. A couple of hours later they arrived at the border which one would have thought with two upstanding young pillars of the community (are we shure about this? - ed) would be a swift and painless experience. Their hopes were raised even higher when the chap in the queue next to them replied to the question, "have you any criminal convictions?" with, "assault with a deadly weapon." Surely they would be ushered through whilst this ganster was directed to the back room and the latex gloves were produced? Obviously not, the thug was through before them. Thanks very much Canadian immigration.

Suffice to say 5 hours later they finally reached Whistler and walked into their appartment. One would expect an appartment sold as one that, "will comfortably sleep 4" would actually have at least one bed. Obviously not. A sofa bed and a pull down bed were the options. Sadly if both were set up at the same time there was absolutely no floor space.

As they were both suffering with (man) flu by this stage they could not be bothered to kick up a fuss and after a quick supper flopped asleep.

Road (Ski) Trip - Part 2

After a good night's sleep, well for our hero at least Gay George (Not Actually Gay) complained of being kept awake by a bear growling away in the room...a bear who stopped growling whenever our hero woke up, the boys were presented with a fantastic view from their room and with a first class breakfast inside them headed up to the slopes.

It is fair to say that Mount Baker is a rather small ski area but with some quite amazing views
and the boys ended up skiing some serious mileage in an effort to tick off every slope.

A few beers on the drive back to their B&B and everything is sweet.

Road (Ski) Trip - Part 1

For the life of them they cannot now recall why they decided not to go for the 9 hour direct flight and instead for the 16 hour indirect flight but what a treat they had let themselves in for. Having made it across the pond to Dulles and staggered their way through customs, immigration and all that jazz they were delighted to discover that those clever people at United had managed to give them seats miles apart from each other for the flight to Seattle, the 6 hour flight that is.

So a long and tedious flight was rendered even more long and tedious without their mutual witty banter (are we shure about this? - ed) to keep them sustained.

Eventually of course the plane had to finally get to Seattle and a relatively pain-free passage through baggage reclaim to the hire car company came to a juddering halt on the I5 motorway North to Mount Baker as they hit rush hour traffic. A 90 mile journey that takes 4 hours is rarely fun although our hero found the ideal way to get through it - fall asleep at the wheel, make Gay George (Not Actually Gay) take over the driving and then go for a kip in the back seat.

Supper at the local micro-brewery which, bizarrely, doubles as the local wedding chapel and a quick couple of beers had them totally wiped out and in bed asleep by 2200.

Road (Ski) Trip - Prologue

Well the great trip around the North-West corner of North America has finally arrived; somehow this trip has taken more planning than the trip round the world that started this reportage (and is costing enormously more).

He has, in homage to the great trip, insisted on taking his rucksack on all his other trips and this one is to be no exception. By some genius he found that a bag that got him round the world somehow was too small for all the stuff needed for a mere two weeks away and so has only taken enough stuff for one week. We pity poor Gay George (Not Actually Gay) suffering with the stench by the end.

What with his skis as well and the new tiny car there was no prospect of getting it all in and with an early morning start to get to Heathrow (after his Valentine’s supper (passim)) he found himself at 0445 trying to tie his rucksack onto the boot-rack. Of course as could be expected a second rate (that high?– ed) job was done and as he motored around the demonic expressway (shurely the M25?- ed) his glances in the rear view mirror became more desperate as the ropes slowly untied themselves.

Sadly the rucksack did not fall off and so he has actually got some kit to go skiing in.

Having parked up he received a text from Gay George (Not Actually Gay) to inform him that the queue was enormous which is certainly a good way to deflate a man’s spirit but having made his way to the terminal he was pleasantly surprised to find himself at the United desks with no queue in sight. He was less pleasantly surprised to find no Gay George (Not Actually Gay) in sight either.

Working on the assumption that he must have made the mistake rather than Gay George (Not Actually Gay) he explained to the bemused groundstaff that he was just calling his chum to find out where he ought to be. Gay George (Not Actually Gay) was by this time at the front of the queue for American and doubted that he could in all honesty jump in which caused a further sinking of the spirits however, and in a rather surprising and possibly first development, this was swiftly followed by a soaring of the spirits on the realisation that by some unholy miracle it was Gay George (Not Actually Gay) who was in error; his excuse “well we were flying to America so I just assumed it would be American Airlines” is a touch lame, presumably when he flies with the charter carrier Monarch he thinks he is flying to see the Queen.

From your correspondent’s perspective if Gay George (Not Actually Gay) has been infected with a level of buffoonery only usually seen by our subject then this promises to be a very fertile trip indeed.

Valentine's Day Romance

What a tragic loser he is, despite his usual blizzard of cards and attempts to obtain dates he has been blown out again. Mind he did manage to find at least one woman to have supper with…his mother.

Selfish BMI Bastards

Horrificly the source of our best material in years has dried up as those "customer service monkeys" (are we shure about the last word? - ed) have rolled over under the constant badgering and our refunding the price. We will of course publish their pathetic letters shortly but for the moment we can only apologise that we have nothing to write about again.

Well we say that but fortunately he is going skiing again...

with Gay George (Not Actually Gay)...

to the States...

and to Canada...

for two weeks.

Mr Ashton your boys took one hell of a beating

It is difficult to know what to add to the general feeling of happiness emanating from our subject following the result at the weekend. His splendid friend Rib Robs made the trip up to help him enjoy the game (Dafydd was supposed to come as well but cried off at 0630 (sic) with work related issues) and enjoy it they did.

That said they enjoyed wandering around town that evening in Welsh jerseys (with Gravy and his squeeze) even more.

We feel we can do little further justice to the weekend and so we have decided to turn over the rest of this page to some of the texts sent to him at the weekend.

During the first half

"It's going to be a massacre.." (Naughty Nigel)
"Wooden spoon mate. You'll be lucky to get past Italy.." (ditto)
"Enjoying the game?" (The Jaberwocky)

During the second half

"We are shocking!" (Chappers)
"Mind you Hooke is class" (Chappers)

After the game

"Congrats. Your game." (Chappers)
"Well done what a comeback m x" (The Mother)
"They may have won it but it has taken then 20 years to get there!" (TLSBSL Dennis)
"Confound my premature smugness" (The Jaberwocky)
"It's another new dawn. whohaaa!" (Hermes)
"Well we did have to substitute half our team and then the other half had to play out of position." (Naughty Nigel)
"By the end Ashton looked like a grandfather with Alzheimer's" (Anon)
"They were throwing the ball around like blinded netball players" (The Times)

Yet another open letter to BMI Baby

Ms Amy Stenson
Complaints Department
BMI
Donington Hall
Castle Donington
Derby DE74 2SB


31 January 2008


Dear Ms Stenson

Gosh. Well thank you for your letter dated 16 January 2008; we particularly enjoyed your failure to apologise for the problems, delays and appalling service we experienced on our flights.

In fact, of the eight specific issues raised in my letter to your CEO you managed to address only one and, amusingly, failed to redress even that.

So let us start with that issue. You tell me that your terms and conditions state that passengers are not entitled to a refund if they have paid for something which they do not then receive.

But have you actually read your own terms and conditions? Because (to both of our surprise) I have. And they say:

"10.2 On failure by us to provide carriage in accordance with the contract of carriage refund of the fare or applicable portion thereof shall be made by us in accordance with this Article."

So, given your failure to provide carriage in accordance with our contract (which you agreed to when you accepted the surcharge for pre-allocated seating), you do in fact owe us the money we paid. Please arrange a refund to our whole group very soon and spare yourself the torrent of letters that will inevitably arrive until it does.

On all the other issues... sigh. Shall we give up now for the sake of both our sanity? I shall sign off on your very sweet hope we have not been deterred from flying with you in the future; frankly my dear I don’t have enough green ink.

Kind regards


Christine H

PS. Do feel free to review the correspondence to date at http://thebogun.blogspot.com

No flies on him

Having acquired his new car (in light of the vitriolic comments when last we mentioned it we will say nothing more about it) he has been trying to off-load his old car aka the hunk of junk.

Having put it on Exchangeandmart.com he was literally inundated with one e-mail from some bloke called John Scott willing to pay the asking price having not seen it. Alarm bells began to ring.

He then said he would send a cheque and of course our subject was not stupid enough to fall for that old chestnut and made clear he would not release the car until it had cleared and "John" seemed happy with that. Then John said that his secretary had made an error and made the cheque out for £2,000 too much as she had included the "shipper's fees" by mistake and would our subject mind moneygramming that extra money to the shipper once received. The alarm bells are ringing like billyo by now.

Then the cheque arrives. Now our lad can be a bit of a naif on occasion and has been known to have occasional common sense bypasses but even he can spot that the London Borough of Enfield is unlikely to be sending a cheque for John's new motor. A quick call to the finance department at the council revealed that the cheque bearing that number was for £97 payable to a Mrs Duale and cashed in February 2003.

Unsuprisingly the boys in blue were called and the story laid out for them. Birmingham's finest did however turn up at the office to interview him leading to much speculation that he had been caught kerb-crawling (again).

We hold out little hope that the fraudster will be caught but we will keep you posted.