103. Unruly behaviour

The trouble with alcohol abuse is that you either see the good side or bad side of people. Some people like the Cabin Boy become so laid back that they almost fall over. Some people like the Captain get more silly and outrageous, if that is at all possible and some people get aggressive and are prone to foul and even fouler bad language. The person in the latter character was one amongst us, but shall remain anonymous but he is of middle order crew status concerning this boating excursion. Being called a “racist” is an accolade in certain people’s mind and is worthy of praise  but when such a persons’ retaliation involves the “C” word  aimed at the landlord, and scoring a direct hit, it does not go down too well in some circles. In essence, Big Phil was told “to behave himself” and in Phil’s own way, he replied with “I may do and I may not do, but don’t push me”

102. Wog grub, wedding rice and the PORG bird

Wog grub, defined by the Captain is any food dish that   comes from north of the Pennines or south of Dover and doesn’t containing anything that hasn’t been home grown or anything that ends in a vowel or has more than three vowels its title is classified as foreign muck. The fact that he has eaten food in 122 countries that he has visited has nothing at all to do with the argument.

The crew were lucky to find an acceptable curry house in Wallingford where the food was of an acceptable standard. The patron of the place was both pleasant and could actually speak English which makes a change for such foreign restaurants. The only downer is you can’t get proper real ale and are ripped off by having to order up   expensive Indian brands of lager such as Cobra and Kingfisher. How can words such as lager, cobra and kingfisher possibly be used together in the same sentence is a definite abuse of the English language and should be reported to the Society for Proper English.

In quite a large number of countries it is now illegal to throw rice at a newly married couple, apparently because people can slip on this sticky substance resulting in a law suit and it has also been blamed for the death of a large number of birds. The Captain, who is very fond of wedding cake, having had several wives accidently, knocked a whole container off the table when speaking of the trials and tribulations of marriage which upon reflection turned into tales of wedded bliss.

In the same restaurant we also treated to a hitherto unforeseen treat, an oversized Porg of the female variety and above all a runt with a gammy leg, now that’s a rarity.

101. Another beard

Having already met a bearded person, it was a real bonus to meet another while walking trying to find another eatery for our supper.

Taking a short cut through the back streets of Wallingford, Phil and Jimmy spotted another bearded personage named Dan. Sailor Dan, a sweaty sock had been born in Dundee and had gone away to sea as a young man. He retired to Abingdon some 20 years previously .Dan was using a walking stick and was therefore no match for our intrepid  pair, who  homed  in on the disabled old man.

Having learnt from previous experience , Jimmy quickly engaged the old boy in conversation, while Phil in his favourite position snook up from the rear and without even thinking about his personal safety even though his prey was fully armed with a working walking stick, quickly popped the question “Have you anything living in that beard?”.As quick as a whistle Dan retorted “I don’t think so but last week in the mirror I did see a couple of pairs of hands poking out of it”.

The Captain asked Dan, “Why did you grow a beard then”? “Well” said Dan “Its the single most manly, and great thing a man can do. To have a beard is to be a true man. If you have a beard, you can show it off proudly, and enjoy the satisfaction of the envy in the eyes of people around you who don't have beards such as you two. If you don't have a beard, grow one. If you can’t grow one and I assume that you and your mate are past the age of puberty, go and get a sex change.

We talked for several more minutes and bid Dan farewell. As we did Dan shouted “Watch out there’s plenty more beards about”. Phil laughed and said “Your missus got one then?”

100. Pub on the green

Pubs on the village greens are a traditional part of English country life and so when we found such a pub in Wallingford we were delighted. The pub is   the Coach and Horses and the land lady was called Tina.

When we entered the pub, Tina asked us “What would like gentleman?”. The Captain joked “What about a quick one darling?”” A voice behind us said “Do you want a drink or not” We turned around to see a huge guy with hands the size of plates “” You offering to buy then “asked the First Mate.”To diffuse the situation the Cabin Boy asked “Would you like to join us for a drink sir?” “Sorry “said the big fella ,” I’m just about to go back on duty” We then realised that under his coat he had a police uniform on .We ordered our drinks, three pints of London Pride and Billy asked Tina “Who is the big fella?”, Tina smiled and said “O that’s my hubbie Tom, the local police sergeant” Billy laughed and said “ I almost joined the police force myself, but they  found out that my mum and dad were married !”

 What was a bit strange was that we were the only gentlemen drinking in this pub and after all it was at least four o’clock in the afternoon.  We sat outside and just watched the world go by or leered at a couple of lady cyclists who rode by.

Being a bit of a literally chap, Billy reminded us of the poet laureate, John Betjeman’s piece of  erotic prose concerning bicycle saddles :

“I think I would rather like

To be a saddle on a bike”

99. Darts players

Darts or “arras” is still a popular pub game and has over the past ten years reached TV  status and has like in all sports, got its band of followers and a number of celebrities.

When in the Dolpin we met three darts players who had just returned from watching The Professional Darts championship in Las Vegas .These professional darts players can earn up to £50,000 a year while those at the top of the profession can earn over a million pounds a year in prize money.

It is interesting that quite a few number of these famous darts players have nicknames and when making their entrances to do battle like gladiators of the ochre line, they have a piece of “walk on music”. Phil Taylor known as the Power enters to The Power by Snap, Dennis Priestly known as the Menace, enters to Hell Raiser by the Sweet and Denny Smith known as Smiffy enters to You really got me by van Halen.

Denny Smith is personally known by the Captain. Denny still lives in Hungerford where the Captain used to live. Smiffy can still regularly be seen playing darts with his mates in the Borough Arms and Hungerford Town football club. He is a big old boy, with a pony tail and although has dark hair he has bright blue eyes. He must have changed his nickname for in Hungerford he was known as The Barcardi Geezer because of his fondness of the Barcadi logo- the black, flying bat or something like that.

The three darts players that we met were Andy, Ed and Eddie but who was more interesting than the three of them put together was the darts team mascot. More on this  little fellow will be found elsewhere in this book.

98. Spotting a PORG

Because of their diminutive status, spotting a Porg ( a person of restricted growth)  in a crowd can be very difficult. They are often felt before they are seen and this is due to them poking their noses into other people’s business whether you like it or not. While in the Dolpin in Wallingford, one of these endangered species was spotted. We  did manage to get photographic evidence .There is a whole chapter devoted to this little person elsewhere in this book.

97. Where have all the breweries gone?

As each year goes by , we lose a bit more of the heritage left behind for us by our forbears, And another example of this is the loss of many breweries, even the one on the finishing line of the Oxford and Cambridge University boat race at Mortlake, closed a couple of years ago.

Loss of breweries is allegedly caused by a number of reasons such as over capacity resulting from falling sales caused by mergers, rise in beer duties, and people not being able to afford it and the smoking ban.

Isn’t it strange that when breweries are bought in more affluent areas that they suddenly become of interest to the property speculators. Examples of this includes Morrells in Oxford, the Stag Brewery at Mortlake and  Morlands in Abingdon. In the case of the latter brewery, the prestigious blocks of flats at least have roof lines reminiscent of old oast houses used for the roasting of hops.

96. Shops of bygone ages

Proper shops which sell proper things are hard to find these days. The supermarkets, the development of glitzy shopping centres and retail parks found in the backwoods have caused the demise of the proper English shop for the more discerning shopper. If one wishes to buy oneself a new topper or  perhaps a new Tam O shanter   to replace the one you lost at last week’s ferret-legging competition then you need to seek out a proper hat shop. And if your care to buy your ageing aunt a new Easter bonnet to ensure that you are remembered in the old girl’s will or you wish to gain brownie points with your latest floozie  and make her more  forthcoming in the bedroom department , then once again you need to seek out a proper hat shop.

It happens that Wallingford processes two such shops, both of which have a vast stock of tiffters in all shapes, designs and colours to make even the most country rogue look a bit of a dapper or make the most wilting of wallflowers seem attractive to the untrained eye.

Of course it is well known in upper-crust circles, that hats and violins go hand in glove together when it comes to style. Nothing can catch a young ladies eye more than a man strolling along a river walk with a violin case casually placed beneath his arm. Once again Wallingford has its own shop selling violins for the up and coming young virtuoso or just the gentleman who likes to adorn himself with the latest fashion accessories. Billy being a master dandy   himself, has both a winter and summer collection of such instruments which he uses in the pursuit of deaf women.

95. Wallingford

Arriving at Wallingford you have great expectations but mooring is a problem. First of all,   there are limited moorings on the town side and these have to be paid for and on the opposite bank, the Crowmarsh side, there are again more council moorings but these are situated next to a public campsite, which tends to encourage the Blackpool Kiss me Quick hat brigade. The pub next to the bridge called the Boat house has as much character as a soggy cardboard box and the price of the beers is exorbitant.

When you walk from the river towards the town you pass through the town centre of   Wallingford which has the feel of a typical old market town. The large open market square consisting of a war memorial, a 17th century arcaded town hall and a church, St Mary-le-More. The square is flanked by numerous independent shops. There is also a statute of a heron encapsulated in a water fountain like structure and this appears to have significance at all.

The town is famous for a number of characters. King Alfred the Great, of burning cake famed built the castle here to defend himself against the Viking raiders. Dick Turpin , the highway mean used to frequent the George and that super sleuth the  Agatha Christie lived on the outskirts of the town.

Agatha Christie was a bundle of fun, she never drank, and never smoked, disproved of sexual matters being discussed in open but she did like dogs. After her husband had gone off with a younger model, she herself created a mystery of her own by vanishing for an eleven day period.

Dick Turpin apparently used the George for resting, periods between his bouts of highway robbery. It was said that he was the instigator of the chat line to young maidens” My name’s Dick, do you like it?

Wallingford , fictionally speaking, must have the highest murder rate be capita of anywhere in the world , since it is often featured in “The Midsomer  Murders”

94. How to save a fiver

Trying to reduce the National Debt can be achieved in three ways. First, paying cash to avoid tax , secondly by paying in kind, and thirdly obtaining something for free while other others have to pay for goods or services. It is the latter that we successfully employed at Wallingford by positively not increasing this ever increasing burden on society.

There is a £5.00 charge for mooring at the council owned moorings at Wallingford but if the mindful boater advances slightly north along the towpath, there are a number of bushes and trees. Some kind, public spirited gentleman had attacked these with a bow saw and rip hook and created a number of free moorings for boaters. At these moorings you can safely relieve yourself at any time of the day or night and also the steep dangerous bank which you have to climb or down to get to your vessel, acts as a deterrent to potential thieves.

93. Three legged dog

During the first leg of our trip from Caversham to Oxford, we twice spotted our three-legged friend Rosie, once outside Abingdon and another time at Sandford lock. Rosie was a three year old Yorkie who was deficient in the leg department by a factor of one.

Her owner Pikey Pete told us “She was a rescue dog who was born with a wasted muscle in the hind quarters but this doesn’t stop her from running around but this is often in circles.”  In conversation with another couple of river gypsies from up North, the male of this parasitic species told us about a friend of his who had a two legged dog who used to walk upright on its two remaining hind legs...and then he woke up.

It is sometimes said that owners look like their dogs example includes Sir Winston Churchill who had a bulldog; Norman Tebbit a.k.a. the Chingford Skinhead owned a Rottweiler and Peter Mandleson who has had several French poodles as well as owning a Shiatsu.

Some people can take this too far, for there was  a once a  one legged woman  who was often seen in the High Street , Marlborough walking  a three legged dog, but a bit of self- amputation just to look like your favourite pet seems to take it a bit far.

92. River Folk

When a couple of narrow boat boaters were confronted directly by a question from Phil” Are you a couple of water gypsies?” he was greeted with the reply” Certainly not, we are River Folk”. So we wanted to know what the differences were between the two. These people own a permanent mooring up north in Cheshire, their boat’s license was up to date, their faces were relatively clean shaven and that applied to the woman as well, and they had have a pet Yorkshire terrier. Now in the case of water gypsies they move from place to place on a daily basis, having probably thieved from the locals, started fights in the local pubs with the locals   and threatened to set up permanent moorings at the locals favourite beauty spot spots.

Gypo’s synonymous with didicoys, tinkers and pikeys don’t believe in paying their taxes in any shape or form and any such licence disc seen on one of their boats will no doubt be a collector’s item. And as to their dogs, you will never see them with a nice little doggie; they prefer the sort, which like themselves are ugly. Such favourite breeds are lurchers for the illegal getting of game, pit-bull terriers for their illegal gambling sessions and Rottweiler-Alsatian half-breeds for their protection when engaged in criminal activities.

And don’t forget, when such people are about, you need to lock up everything because the type of key that can open up anything is a “pikey”

91. Smiling canoeists

Men in canoes think that they own the river and can always easily spotted by the red knob head helmets that they wear in a pretence of safety. Rowers on the other hand are fit, brave young men and women who never were helmets and have the distinct advantage over boaters in the sense that they can hardly ever see canoeists in their path and only realise their close proximity after ploughing straight into a group of canoes.

But young gentlemen in canoes are a joy to behold and love to be swamped by speeding boats producing large wakes and they find it a real thrill when they get rocked from side to side. It is generally safer for canoes to enter a lock last and if you are fortunate to  have a group of canoes behind you, your prey is then trapped and cannot escapes your waves, if you decide to rev up your engine ...accidently. We were indeed very fortunate to take part in this bit of boy’s play when both entering and leaving Sandford lock, the squeals, of course, brings joy to your ears of the boater who has caught them in his wake.

90. Kashmir poppy

During the trip down river, we spotted an attractive new motorised skiff named Kasmir Poppy and the second mate was even more attractive, a woman in her early forties named Gloria. Her husband was although he was called Ernie with a very large tonsure, was a pleasant fellow. The couple were travelling all the way to Twickenham and had set off the day before from Witney. Jimmy had gleaned this information when he had spotted Gloria alone whilst attending to the lock and had offered to help her to man the lock at Days lock.

When were waiting for the lock to fill up, the Captain asked Ernie about the name of the boat.”Well up until two years ago I was working for The United Nations and I was based in Kashmir. Every day I would look out of my bedroom window and I could see the Himalayas in the background and in the late spring time you would see flashes of red on the mountain sides and one day on an excursion, I found out that the red I could see were poppy fields and that unlike in Afghanistan, the world’s leading producer of opium which partly funds the Taliban insurgency there, Kashmir’s poppy cultivators grow the crop as a means to supplement their meager agricultural incomes”. Billy said “You mean they allow these farmers to sell the poppies to drug dealers then?” “Something like that “, answered Ernie” They convert the opium to heroine but there’s been a big government surge to stamp it out” he added “”.So they should, drugs like that ruin people’s lives “said The First Mate”

Just as we were leaving the lock the Captain said “Did you see what his missus was wearing?” “No” said Billy, “What?” A poppy red cashmere top””You don’t suppose they’re a couple of drug runners then? “asked  Billy” The First Mate looked at the Captain and said “He’s been reading those adventure comics again !”

90. Kashmir poppy

During the trip down river, we spotted an attractive new motorised skiff named Kasmir Poppy and the second mate was even more attractive, a woman in her early forties named Gloria. Her husband was although he was called Ernie with a very large tonsure, was a pleasant fellow. The couple were travelling all the way to Twickenham and had set off the day before from Witney. Jimmy had gleaned this information when he had spotted Gloria alone whilst attending to the lock and had offered to help her to man the lock at Days lock.

When were waiting for the lock to fill up, the Captain asked Ernie about the name of the boat.”Well up until two years ago I was working for The United Nations and I was based in Kashmir. Every day I would look out of my bedroom window and I could see the Himalayas in the background and in the late spring time you would see flashes of red on the mountain sides and one day on an excursion, I found out that the red I could see were poppy fields and that unlike in Afghanistan, the world’s leading producer of opium which partly funds the Taliban insurgency there, Kashmir’s poppy cultivators grow the crop as a means to supplement their meager agricultural incomes”. Billy said “You mean they allow these farmers to sell the poppies to drug dealers then?” “Something like that “, answered Ernie” They convert the opium to heroine but there’s been a big government surge to stamp it out” he added “”.So they should, drugs like that ruin people’s lives “said The First Mate”

Just as we were leaving the lock the Captain said “Did you see what his missus was wearing?” “No” said Billy, “What?” A poppy red cashmere top””You don’t suppose they’re a couple of drug runners then? “asked  Billy” The First Mate looked at the Captain and said “He’s been reading those adventure comics again !”

89. Saddle angel

The Thames path is a trail that follows England’s longest river for 213 miles between its source at Thames Head, near Kemble and the Thames barrier at Woolwich. It passes through contrasting landscapes varying from the picturesque, rural tranquillity of the Cotswold countryside at the river’s source, occasionally departing from the riverbank in the middle reaches to the paved riverside promenades of the towns and cities that it passes through.

When the path was established as well as physical hindrance such as marshy banks and islands, the Thames Commissioners faced uncooperative riparian owners who tried to cash in on the piece of English heritage and tried to charge exorbitant sums of money to allow access across their land. This is why the path often passes from bank to bank from bridge to bridge and in older times from ferry to ferry in order to cross the banks.

When cruising along the river, one will often see young ladies pedalling their cycles along the river path. In all most cases , the cycling lady is of younger years, fit and often wears tight fitting clothes revealing their true form and in summer ,to the trained  eye it is often possible to see a little more  than an outline but dare, I say it “Naked flesh at its best, pure and white and rippling with intent”. Such was one angel we admired on the tow path at Iffley but due to the drop in temperatures she was fully dressed, more's the pity!

88. Encounters of the unnecessary kind

When boating with such an experienced Captain as ours you can of course expect him to hit obstacles which suddenly jump out of the wood work , concrete and galvanised metalwork.

These sneaky creatures will take you by surprise often because when you are heading straight for them they remain stubborn and fail to get out of your way. The alert Captain is well aware of their treachery and will have no option but to bow to their superiorly and plough straight into them at no expense concerning damage to his beloved vessel. This is where a Captain may use a strong language like, serves the fucker right, waste the mother fucker and that bastard had it coming to it any way. These expletives are also often followed by remorseful statements like it could have been worse, we may have killed some innocent bystander, sunk our ship or even worse one of the crew may have sustained a scratch or two. A Captain under these circumstances is in no way, shape or form to blame and any mention of never turn the engine off when the boat is in motion, will result in a severe reprimand and the sulking of the aforesaid for several hours and the accuser being left with a string of unpleasant duties such as licking the toilet bowl clean and removing pubic hair from blocked waste pipes. And dependent upon the severity of your offence against the Captain., you may forced to steer the boat yourself for several hours whilst enduring an ear blasting every minute for things that you have done wrong while under the supervision of a much superior being such as the captain The only fool that the Captain suffers is himself.

97. Mad Gareth

There is a certain boater on the Reading stretch named Gareth Evans, no not the former Australian politician ,no not the British Philosopher or even the professional footballer who plays for Bradford City, if it can be called that these days but our very own local one, known as Madog. Yes he is mad and has an even madder four-legged friend called Taffy.

When drunk, Gareth is not shy to reveal his interesting past, which makes James Bond and Sty Stallone look like a pair of fairies. Gareth freely tells people he has seen active service in the SAS, The Special Boat Service and the 2^nd Parachute regiment. He also was a high ranking officer in the Irish republican revolutionary military organisation, the IRA. In reality, Gareth’s only army service had been when his duties were cleaning out the toilets during his stay at the local Salvation Army hostel after he had been on  a two week bender on scrumpy cider-meths cocktails.

During one drinking session  he was seen to be moving in his boat, around  and around Fry’s Island in ever decreasing circles and was told off by another boater (who name shall rename anonymous  (Dave the Gypo) to stop it. Gareth taking the hump,  produced and threatened Dave with an unloaded air gun. A public minded citizen phoned the police and within minutes the Thames Valley police helicopter was hovering overhead together with a dozen members of the armed police support unit. The net result was that Gareth was captured alive, trussed up like a chicken, given a good talking too and because of his “poor state of mental health” was let off with a caution. The cost of this operation was of the order of £20,000 and we are sure general tax payers would happy to find out how some of their tax is wisely spent.

86. Gypo Dave

The Captain recognised Dave the Gypo from the many years that Dave had moored his barge  outside the Captain’s house  at Caversham with  his dog- Oscar. Phil asked him about the breed of dog and was informed that it was a Dutch Mountain Dog. Phil then pointed out that there are no mountains in Holland, and Dave replied “Aren’t there?”

We engaged Dave in conversation for about thirty minutes and we got all the latest goss from this river gypsy. It transpired that he knew all about the guy that Phil found dead in a boat at Purley a couple of years ago and that the new owner of the boat Micky the Gypo gave Gypos a bad name by not paying their annual licence fee, not paying mooring fees for months on end and avoiding such fees by continually moving on. Coming to that we couldn’t see any such current licence disc on his boat and he had only been moored at Oxford for a month or so instead of the allocated twenty four hours.

Dave sounds like a typical cockney having a gravel voice somewhere between Louis Armstrong   and Rod Stewart  probably caused  by smoking fifty  Woodbines a  day when younger and a life time sniffing in the smoke from a wood burner stove.

85. Nice,nice nice girl

It is funny that us chaps ogle young girls when the young, normal girl would never even look at old duffers like us but there are exceptions to every rule. When walking down St.Algates in Oxford to make our way back to the boat, a  really, really, really attractive looking dusky maiden walked in front   of us to  across the road and the girl smiled at Jimmy who gave her a hello like wave to which she replied with  a similar wave. She then stopped while the traffic eased by and then gave another unsolicited wave. Jimmy mimed H E L L O  again and then she did it again, smiled  and waved.

We then walked on, and Jimmy turned back to see if she was looking back to see, if he was looking back at her and she was and once again she gave a small wave and disappeared without a trace into the magistrates’ court.

It was something from Candid Camera or You’ve been framed. All things being equal, it was a pleasant experience for the Captain. The First Mate said “There’s no accounting for some people’s taste “and the Captain added “Some of us have got it gentlemen and some of us haven’t but in any case she was “tasty, tasty very very, very tasty” as the advert goes.” I remember it now Captain “said the Cabin Boy “That’s the advert for Kellogg’s All Bran, isn’t it.

84. The Boys' new socks

Bo Diddley’s song of the early sixties “You can’t judge a book by looking at it’s cover” may be true and judging a man’s shoe choice is often regarded as a gateway to his soul but if you wish to gain a real insight into a man’s personality it is more straightforward. Just look at the socks he wears.

Unmarried men or known by their better name cock virgins, boast about their purity and wear white ankle socks. Ageing, obese gentlemen of a certain age wear long blue socks in order to conceal their road map of varicose veins while those men on an economy drive who try to avoid washing their socks at all, wear dark brown or all black socks. Scout masters seem to like knee length green socks to match their very tight, figure hugging pants and people who suffer from athletes foot wear special socks that will support several layers of Odour Eaters.

On our trip, Billy was often seen to wear a pair of socks which consisted of orange, green and brown hoops, but what was funny was that he never wore the matching regimental striped tie. Could it be that he didn’t want us to know that he was a past member of The Rear Gunner Squadron, or once a The Rear Admiral in the Brownies, no the ties livery was that of the Secret Society of Worshippers of Traffic Wardens who wear stockings and suspenders under their uniform.

While in Oxford Billy bought a pair of pale blue socks indicating that he was a Man City fan, who voted conservative, bought Cornflowers for his sweetheart, his birthstone was  Sapphire and therefore he was born in September. Yes a lot can be told from the colour of a man’s socks.

92.The long short cut

These days a lot of cars and boats have global positioning systems, well on our travels   we did not have to resort to such modern day technology, because we had our very own specialist navigator on board aka The Captain, who couldn’t find his way out of a wet  paper bag even it was already open.

We set out to find the quickest route, crow -wise, to our destination, of course another pub. Well the route took us at thirty  minutes instead of the statutory ten because instead of operator error of behalf of the Captain .The Captain completely  exonerated himself, accidently on purpose , by taking us via a circuitous route, again on purpose , via  Oxford Prison, which now is used as an alternate but interesting hotel offering rooms for the night, a bit like Hotel California .The only difference being the absence of candles and  pink champagne  on ice and the opportunity to leave once you had inspected the daily tariff you have to pay for consented interment .The route itself was like the maze at Hampton court, but without the league of Nations on your heals  and  a concrete jungle instead of hornbeams...now “not a lotta people know that” ,unless you’ve read the books of that Cockney  chappie Maurice Micklewhite, namely  Michael Caine. He never forgot his roots and the name he was born with, and when gonged in 2000 he became Sir Maurice instead of Sir Michael.

82. Late night boozing

When you decide to have a few beers on board at night, it requires careful planning. First off all you have to remember, where the beers are kept, you need a source of illumination so you can see where they have secreted themselves without your permission and thirdly you need to be able count over three.

On returning to the boat for a late night bevy, it is assumed that you are already three sheets in the wind and that a top up session is of paramount importance for your continued good health and bonhomie  .As an aide de memoire, try to always put your beer in the same storage place for easy finding, otherwise you will be cussing like a trooper opening all manner of unnecessary  cupboards only to find that suddenly  the boat floor is littered with things that have tried to defend themselves by falling out off the cupboard often onto  your hands and feet inflicting great pain,  at your  expense.

Secondly, you need a source of illumination such as a headlight carried by our trusty First Mate. The absence of such a light may cause the late night drinker to consume by accident Bog Blue, engine oil, cooking oil or washing up liquid or a cocktail thereof.

Finally it is a very drunken crew member who opens up more beer cans or bottles of beer than can be simultaneously drunk by the crew and any excuse offered such as futuristic planning is mere piffle!  The main culprit causing this unwarranted behaviour is a beer from   the Charles Wells   brewery called Bombardier. This full strength beer is available cheaply in many supermarkets and is a preferred purchase of down and outs and other such social security parasites. 

81. Holes

Like people, holes come in all shapes and sizes, some large are large and some are small. The ones I refer to those are large enough to accommodate most persons.

When arriving at Christchurch Meadow, Oxford, Billy spotted such a hole and brought it to our attention, and said “When we return tonight, we’d better not forget about   the perils of falling down such a hole. Billy having a been a prominent  Boy Scout in a former  life even pointed out that he would bring along  a source of illumination.”There’s no need to tell us Billy, we’re not stupid “said The Captain, “Well that remains to be seen” added the Cabin Boy.

After each consuming at least a gallon of a variety of excellent ales sipped in several pubs, our intrepid crew advanced slowly in the dark to their mooring. On arriving at our mooring, there was heard a string of expletives consisting   mainly of four-lettered words. Yes Jimmy had no recollection of the of the hole and promptly disappeared down the hole .Billy peered down the hole and said “Told you so”. The Captain gazed up and shouted “Get that fuckin’ light out of my eyes and give me a hand up”. The First Mate helped the Captain out of the hole and said “You could do with a beer old son”

80. Paul and Poles

While watching some sports results on the TV a guy sidled up to catch some golfing news and we engaged him in conversation about golf and football. He was then joined by his entourage of young ladies all of whom were Polish. The connection between Paul and the bevy of beauties  was that he was their boss at BMW‘s head office in Cowley, just outside of Oxford,  and  he was taking them out for the night as a thank you present for all their hard work and support over the past year. Inquisitive as ever, the Cabin Boy” asked Paul “What do you do   at BWW and Paul replied “I’m the head chef there and these girls are my cooks and waitresses”.

The girls were very friendly and one of them Anya was very, very friendly and loved her photograph to be taken. Jimmy played with his zipper on his new ill begotten Barbour coat and Anya teasingly played with hers on the black leather jacket she was wearing and with a helping hand, from someone who will remain anonymous, a pair of lovely, round and firm dumplings were revealed. Being married men, we didn’t take the matter further and Billy commented “I thought I was going to have to beat her off with a forked stick. Mentioning sticks, we had had more beers than you could have thrown a stick at.

79. Aussies

During the trip one of the more senior members of the crew had been giving a rendition of  a few lines of  some of the bawdy songs written by the  infamous comedy song writer Australian Kevin “Bloody “ Williams .Such prestigious titles  include “Grandad’s got a boner, My Dick’s on the Dole and his favourite “Do ya fuck on first date

The crew had been discussing how we could get the later title into a conversation with a complete stranger. We initially thought that it may be possible to bring it into the general conversation with one of the Eastern European bar maids from Latvia at The Head of the River pub by Folly Bridge, but they all looked cold and stoney faced  just like their fatherland.

Opportunity presented itself later in the evening, when we heard an Australian drawl. Jimmy surveyed his target, and without any hesitation, walked straight up to this guy and said” Are you from down under? “,”Yes mate came the reply” to which Jimmy said” Do ya “ and was pleasantly relieved  when the guy beat  him  to it and said ” Fuck on first date . Yes, sorry but I’ve already got a date tonight mate”. Great laughter ensued. We were then introduced to Bruce’s two other mates and the evening continued with even more beers and ribaldry. It turned out that the Aussies  were here on a conference being held at Harwell  to do  with some aspect of water, and so Phil was then up to his chin discussing water  based topics.

All in all the Aussies were good fun to be with and we saw them leaving the pub early in the morning, of course that hadn’t been drinking there all night, they had been staying there at their company’s expense, including their bar bill.

78. Grills galore

There is a chain of pubs owned by JD Wetherspoon that provide the choice and value, in both food and drink. Both of these encourage the hungry and thirsty boat person to become more self-indulgent and Big Ol’ Boys such as Phil can really “fill their boots “in both the drinking and eating departments by a factor of two compared to more slimmer personages such as the much shorter Jimmy and hence more dense and the much taller but less dense Billy.

The Swan and Castle in Castle Street, Oxford is one of these establishments selling a range of real ales often at half price compared to conventional public houses, in essence even those of a most modest purse can easily get pissed in such a place.

The mixed grill and the even larger mixed, are indeed of such gastronomical proportions that they are not suitable for personages of a delicate disposition who don’t like seeing a plateful of dead animals adorning their plates.

77. Singles club for the elderly

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76. Lost i-phone

Hi-tech products often attract a high price premium. This is because the Japanese, the N/S Koreans and Taiwanese have learnt how to circumvent patent law to their advantage and copy all of our products. We cannot think of a single invention that these countries have invented during the technological advancement of our society in general.

True the Japanese did invent Prisoner of War Camps, the Koreans did invent the Loss of Human Rights and the Taiwanese did invent the art of plagerurism in the physical sense by learning how to copy and manufacture everything, without the use of a single brain cell and the investment of a single cent.

Such a high value article was left  charging in the men’s room at the aforesaid mentioned pub by 

a certain person who’s Christian name is found between the 1^st and 3^rd letters of the alphabet .Unnecessarily panic ensued and the  missing iPhone was found intact, and we wonder why. There was not a single Eastern European or DHSS sponger within ear-shot and why? Because there are still some pubs that have standards and one of these is honesty. Long live the Duke’s Cut in Oxford.

75. Botanists

Whoever said “that flowers are boring” was probably untrue, what they should have said was “that people who study such wonderful creations of nature are”.

After tramping around Oxford like headless chickens for an hour or so,  we eventually espied a suitable establishment in which to we could wet  our whistles .These days we doubt if the average school boy or girl either possess one or knows how to use such a long standing toy, instrument of salvation  or item of annoyance.

Fiona was the “voice” and Mike “was the brain with a leaning towards all creatures green”. Apparently they were a double act. Fiona  told us that they were “Doing the Introduction  and “Speak” to Botany classes in the Extra-Mural Department of The University of Oxford , while unassuming Mr. or probably Dr.Mike , was the botanist on hand to confirm the guide’s lack of knowledge in all matters green, growing and accounting for over half a million organisms. Prior to studying plant life, Mike being slightly deaf due to being a rampant pudding puller when a youngster, heard orgasms instead of organisms, and embarked with gusto on a botanical career.

74. Busker

Buskers are people who perform in public places for tips and gratuities, in essence musical beggars who often can’t sing or play a guitar. Most of our cities have a few  buskers and these are often found  performing in high profile places such as tunnels found on the  London Underground and tourist spots around the country such as the M1 motorway, Spaghetti junction and Vauxhall Bridge to name a few.

We listened to this guy grown for a few minutes and on taking his photograph, he said “That will be a fiver mate” .Jimmy said” I’ll give you a tip old son,”When you learn to sing I’ll learn how to put my hand in my pocket”. Billy mockingly said” I don’t suppose you’ve got change from a five pence coin have ya ?!”

73. Fork Handles

Trying to find a specific pub by name in a city such as Oxford should be a relatively simple task or so it should be provided that you can find a person who actually speaks English or better still actually understands what you are saying. The first person we spoke to, who  could actually string two words together was a young girl with a purple quiff in her hair and a ring through her , nose who didn’t know but asked her friend, a snotty nosed, spotty faced youth who “Fort is down by bacca  black buss sweet”, which roughly translated meant “thought it  was down by the back of Black Bush Street. It wasn’t surprising that they were of no help. If you had a father who was a peacock and a mother who was a pig, you would have been in the same predicament and only slightly better if your father had been a block of wood and your mother a disorientated dyslexic.

Eventually when we arrived at the Four Candles it was shut for a make-over jobbie and Billy said “Does anyone remember that Two Ronnies sketch?” asked the Captain.  The First Mate said “You mean the one where the Big Ronnie winds up the shopkeeper played by the  Little Ronnie and asks for fork handles and gets four candles and then he asks for plugs and gets plugs for the bathroom instead of electrical plugs and then he asks  for some hose and gets letter ‘O’s “Yes that’s the one” replied the Captain, “He then goes on and asks for ‘P’s and gets tins of peas instead and when he asks for pumps at the counter he gets a water pump instead of a pair of pumps” .”Great stuff eh Captain, it’s a shame that they don’t make proper TV programmes like that today”. I wonder whatever became of the Two Ronnies Captain ? The Captain answered “Ronnie Barker died about five or six years ago and I think he lived somewhere around here in Oxford and I always remember him on some chat show when he was asked “Why did you become an actor?” and he replied by saying that” I became an actor because I didn’t have a personality of my   own and I was only happy when I was someone else. And as for Ronnie Corbett, he must be pushing eighty now and  must almost be fully retired by now but I did see him hosting that  Come Dancing  show a year or so ago” .The Cabin Boy giggled out loud  and said” I bet you’ve done that a few times Phil!”.