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Apparently he was an anti-aircraft gunner for the Germans in the War. So he must ride an old BMW flat twin with a sidecar complete with front mounted heavy machine gun!
Donate – Or Imperial Data will have you sorted!Heard Radar Love by Golden Earing on the radio! Bostin!!
Donate – Or Imperial Data will have you sorted!they sped along the Queen’s highway. Then in their mirrors they spotted the beam from a blazing headlight, no it was two…three….four. Suddenly the air around them began to reverberate and a wall of sound hit them. The type of noise you don’t merely hear, but feel right in the very pit of your stomach. Thumper stamped on the TDR’s back brake hard, the pads dug into the disc and the Yam slewed sideways drunkenly. Radar followed suit. As one they snapped open their visors and the sight that greeted their widening eyes simply beggared belief.
Roaring towards them with Imperial Data as the spearhead aboard his GPz900R was the entire forum. This was no less than a true motorcycling army, coming to claim what was rightfully theirs, The Golden Pot Noodle.
Gixer, Hoolie, Diablo, Scouser, Toggs, Digger, Barmy, GSF, Pingu, Cookeye, Speedy and even Lex, they were all there. Bike after bike after bike, the formation stretched as far as the eye could see. Many bikes waved flags bearing their Avatars.
ID pulled as hard as the GPz bulging brake hoses would allow on his brakes and he squealed to a halt, pulling a neat stoppie at Thumper’s feet as he did so. Behind him the whole formation drew to a halt as one and everybody began to rev their engines in unison. The ground shook. The road was cleared now and the turf was theirs to command.
Then, just as suddenly all the engines fell silent, except for Thumper’s and Radar’s. All that could be heard now was the burbling 2-stoke idle of the pairs’ bikes.
ID lifted his visor;
“We thought you might need some help to go and reclaim what is truly ours!”
With that the entire forum fired up their engines and once more the air shook with the sound of biking power and might.
Radar and Thumper now KNEW what they MUST do and snapped their bikes into gear and flicked back in the direction of their destiny. They screamed off with the front wheels of both bikes clawing at the sky.
Behind then moved the entire forum, Digger, Wheelie, Wild One, Sidevalve, Towcrowe, and Prezzo. So many names, so many bikes. Even Kitty had finished tidying her garden to join the fleet and Deltic had left his class 2 DMU in the siding. This mission meant everything, to everybody! All were here on the quest, for a quest is what it truly is, the hunt for the Golden Pot Noodle!
For hour after long hour the forum roared through the night, nothing could stop us now. We moved as one, many bikes but a common cause and a kindred spirit. How could victory not be ours for the taking?
Day became night and headlights combined to show the forums path to the hallowed ground that held the target of their quest..
Once people called it the Millennium Dome, but after the government sold it for 50p to Golden Wonder the things changed and now it was the most scared site on earth: THE NOODLE DROME!It stood now at the end of M1 highway and was bathed in an alien like green light. The pylons that soared from it like pins from a huge concrete pin cushion clawed at the sky and each one housed dozens of searing, powerful searchlights whose beams criss-crossed the night, making a pattern to send even the most stone hearted person crazy with fear.
Roaring around the base of the Dome was an army of thousands of ‘Cagers’. These are crazy men in crazy battered wrecks of cars. They are defenders of the Dome. The cars are relics of an industrial age, before bikers ruled the world. The engines are huge exposed V8 monsters, topped with massive snarling supercharger intakes, snorting angrily and sucking away the very air we breathe to feed their hungry masters.
They were waiting for the forum….
Back on the highway Thumper brought the TDR to a halt with a long skid, laying a 100 metre darkie on the tarmac. The forum once again rolled to a stop just behind him. Kill switches were hit and silence fell. In the distance the hum of the waiting Cagers could be heard, carried on the gentle breeze that stroked them all.
Thumper pulled off his crash helmet to reveal and face streaked in oil but filled with purpose. He got off the TDR and walked over to the waiting, hushed forum that stretched before him…
“We may have our bikes, our freedom even.”
The forum hung on his every word….
“But…” he paused.
“WE DON’T HAVE OUR POT NOODLE!!”
“ARE YOU WITH ME?” he roared, his now almost God like in tone. At this moment everybody knew they had picked the wrong Pope!
In answer to his question every bike engine started and above storm clouds began to gather as lightening bolts streaked across the night sky in a seemingly drug induced haze. If you listened really hard I swear that Hendrix could be heard, playing riffs from beyond the grave. One way or another it was obvious that tonight history would be made…
Thumper jumped on the TDR wrenched the throttle to its stop and then plunged off the highway to towards the Drome, screaming like a man pocessed.
Radar was on his right and ID on his left and whole forum followed as one
Below the Cagers saw the mass of machinery approach and turned to meet them.
When Two Tribes go to War…
The two armies smashed into one another in sickening clash of steel, plastic, bone and flesh. The fight was on. All around now was noise, chaos, fear as Cager fought forum in desperate battle for ascendancy. To the victor, the spoils.
One by one they fell; Scouser, Katana, Gixerlicker, Mattzappa. They lay besides their twisted bikes. But nothing could stop the forum this night. Cagers lay strewn like discarded rag dolls around the base of the dome. Steam was rising from their wrecked cars, fluid draining away into the dirt like blood.
Ever closer the Forum fought to THE NOODLE DROME, but the price was high. Gixer lay by her shattered Suzuki, in her hand a conrod and piston, it had all been too much on the 29th day.
For hours the fight raged on, many heroes were made and died in one night. But when the final cager was slayed only ID survived, his GPz barely running. If only he had bought fresh petrol. Almost as if it were limping the sick GPz carried ID through the doors of the huge doom and there before him in the centre of the room was a huge marble pillar. On the top was the holy grail, THE GOLDEN POT NOODLE! A blue light picked it out, smoke from the battle had drifted inside and made strange, surreal patterns in the beam. ID stood transfixed for a moment and he knew it had all been worthwhile.
His blooded hand stretched out and took the GOLDEN POT NOODLE. The plastic of the carton felt good in his hand, right. He cupped it in both hands and then in horror the awful truth hit him, the blood drained from his face. He fell slowly on to one knee and then the other. The Pot Noddle fell from his grasp and rolled across the floor.
He had forgotten the kettle…
Donate – Or Imperial Data will have you sorted!I will vote. Not saying for who.
However does anybody have any info about the various parties attitudes towards bikes/training/power outputs etc.??
Road tax for bikes HAS dropped under Labour.
Donate – Or Imperial Data will have you sorted!Had snails cooked the Spanish way a couple of weeks ago. Looked like snot, didn’t really taste of anything much.
Donate – Or Imperial Data will have you sorted!quote:
Originally posted by gixerchicNot too far from Anglessey either is it?[:p]
LOVE IS GIVING SOMEONE THE ABILITY TO DESTROY YOU, THEN TRUSTING THEM NOT TO.
Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, But rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, Vodka in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming…….WOO HOO, what a ride!
Or Great Yarnmouth…
Donate – Or Imperial Data will have you sorted!
