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Hi,it's me again.
What a week ! Now I love foreign travel and me and the gang get away at least twice a year. By the gang, I mean of course, me and Trace, mum and whoever she’s currently knocking around with, Earl, Shane, Gran, if she isn’t in prison, and sometimes Lionel but he’s funny about his food.

Anyway, two weeks ago we had a trip booked to Haiti. We chose it because it was hot, sunny and Fat Francis, down at the Getaway travel agents got us a really good price. Apparently he had booked a large party for the trip and then they all got banged up for GBH after a little disagreement down the Social. So Francis, he’s a guy by the way, got onto the tour company and fixed for us all to go instead.

By the way the name of his travel agency, ‘Getaway’ is a bit of a laugh. Francis was inside himself more than once for driving getaway cars. He specialised in it Whatever kind of job you were pulling off, Francis could always provide the right sort of vehicle. He was known for it. 

Of course like a lot of criminals, once he’d made a pile he went straight. He even joined the local Conservative. club. He met all his old mates there, Sid who did houses, now he sells them, Maurice, whose forged fiver fooled even Interpol. He’s now an accountant. Oh yes and Posh Nigel who used to have whole fleets of white transit vans shipping in fags and booze from France.

Nigel, never did live on the trailer park. He had what he called a suite at the Railway Hotel down my the goods sidings. Suite ! Two rooms at the back overlooking the car park at Tesco’s. Of course the real reason he lived there is the landlord fenced the booze for him and let him used his cellar to store it.. When the pub was sold and became the Rat and Railway, Nigel had to get out. These big companies aren’t as flexible in their attitude as small business men. Nigel went into legitimate beer importing and is now the UK agent for a very fashionable beer from Botswana. He’s always writing letters to the local paper calling for a crackdown on imports from France. 

Anyway we got these tickets really cheap and were really looking forward to ten days in the sun. We all went to Gatwick in a mini bus Francis had laid on and although we did get stopped but the police on the motorway, it was OK because Francis had got Maurice to knock up a pretty good Insurance certificate and MOT. and apparently the owner who normally kept the bus in a lockup, hadn’t even reported it stolen. Francis said that was because he was away spending some time with Her Majesty.

The plane was late taking off so we had plenty of time for a few drinks. Everyone was in a great mood when we actually got on the plane but looking at some of the miserable buggars on the flight, really was depressing. Still we ignored them and got stuck in. We kept those trolley dolly busy I can tell you. Drinking a pub dry is one thing but I think we set out to drink the plane dry 

The a couple of miserable sods sitting in front of us started to complain so Earl whacked them. Only playful like, but Earl is a big chap and maybe he didn’t know his own strength. The Head Trolley Dolly, a real queen judging by the way he kept looking at Lionel and fluttering his eyes, told us he wouldn’t serve us any more drink.

We told him, not to worry we’d got lot’s of duty frees. ‘That’s illegal’ he said and Mum chipped in ‘So is what you do with your boyfriend’ and that really set him off. You know how queens get when they lose their tempers.

Anyway, we started on the duty frees and next thing we know the Captain is on the intercom saying we have to strap ourselves in as we are making an emergency landing.

I was scared I can tell you. We didn’t know if an engine was on fire or the on board computer was up the spout. Then the big queen came and with a silly smirk on his face told us we were landing so we could be evicted from the plane. The rest of the po faced passengers even cheered so Earl smacked him one as well. That brought two more Dollies to the scene and one of them handcuffed Earl to the seat.

We landed at some small town airport on the East coast of the United States. There were Police waiting, TV crews and crowds of people. It was great, we were celebrities. The plane took off without us with the other passengers having a whip round for the crew. We watched it go with mixed feelings, a holiday with that miserable lot would have been hell, so we decided to make the best of a bad job and started selling our story to anyone we could.

We made a bomb and the Americans gave us a visa for two weeks and we used the money we had collected for interviews to stay at the local Hilton Resort. We had a great time. we went on TV and met some really nice people who lived in trailers just like ours. We even got a call from Fat Francis to tell us he had done a deal with Carlton TV for our story when we got back with a fee big enough to pay for half a dozen trips to the Caribbean.

A local Lawyer got in touch and offered to sue the tour company on a no win no fee basis so we had some of that.  Can’t lose can we ? He told us we could get millions. Of course the downside is that the tour company might sue us for the cost of landing the plane and the Trolley Dolly Earl wacked has already been on TV saying he is suing us for damages.  The lawyer said not to worry, we can work out the pluses and the minuses and if it comes out bad we can file for bankruptcy and he can handle that too.

So it’s all been quite a week. When we got back to Gatwick, We paid for a first class ticket so the airlines were all over us trying to offer us seats. Of course in First class they are used to passengers getting happy what with all those pop stars and politicians travelling. They like their booze and at the price they pay for seats, no airline is going to kick them off.

The TV cameras were all there when we landed and Lionel really camped it up for them. He bcame a bit of a celebrity around the clubs in Brighton but met the Big Queen from the airline one night in what he called a backroom and they had a bit of a set to. They made it up later, however and over breakfast Lionel asked him to see if there were any vacancies for cabin crew.

Finally, there was a phone call, from the Police. Gran had been arrested again this time for soliciting in Safeways. Missing Mad Marge I expect.

Ah well ce la vie as they say in Spain.


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