Rubbing shoulders with the stars

I met him at the candy store,
He turned around and smiled at me
You get the picture?

(yes, we see)

Twenty hours on and I've just about recovered from my first adventure as pillion rider on my brother's throbbing 1200cc machine. Fuck, it was scary, but once I'd got over the initial fear for my life, it was pretty exhilerating. The cunt didn't half give it some revs and bank round corners. Shithead.

Things that go through your head when you're a passenger, sat behind your semi psychotic brother on his rather powerful motorboke:

• Am I going to die?
• Will they show mercy and switch off the life-support machine, or leave me a dribbling cabbage?
• In those seconds prior to meeting my doom, will there be opportunity to jump clear of danger?
• Which way should I jump?
• Will it hurt?
• How do I scratch my nose with these big gloves on?
• Can I let go of the grab rail to scratch my nose?
• Where is my nose?
• I wish I could put my specs on properly through this fucking helmet, the side is really digging into my head. I wonder if I'll remember to put my contact lenses in next time?
• When will the feeling return to my lower legs and feet?
• My shoulders and knees and ankles have seized up.
  
• This is fun!

So the purpose of this harem scarem adventure? Well, some bloke had really gone to town on decorating his house with Christmas lights and there was a gathering for the switch on. Funds were being raised for the Hospice charity that will benefit from the main Bikers' toy run and some of the Bikers turned up to show support, along with Coronation Street actress Bev Callard, who was doing the big switch on....

So you see, being a "biker chick" (oh yes!) not only allows you to ride around on a tonne's worth of vibrator, you also get to meet minor celebrities such as soap actresses, Bob the Builder, giant snowmen AND inflatable Father Christmasses.

Bev and her hubby own a pub and they kindly provided coffees for the bike gang after the switch on. There we were, blocking entrances on a busy Friday night while all the punters were awaiting the start of the pub's own talent show, "The Eccles Factor" (no lie), when who should turn up as guest of honour? No, not the Pope, it was fellow soap star Bill Tarmey (Jack Duckworth). Whatever next? I might try and wangle a part.


Friday night
It's been such a long time since I've found myself in a pub, let alone a normal (not city centre) pub on a Friday Night, that I'd forgotten what they were like. Lots of women with highlights and tans, all in their best clobber and jewellery, drinking God knows what - what do women drink? Not pints, that's for sure.

And there I was, in a pub - not a "nice" pub, but a decent, working class pub - on a Friday night in Salford and I was thinking, I could quite happily do this again. I could quite happily go back ten years in time and go to a pub like this, get pissed and have a laugh, maybe even get on that stupid stage and sing in front of my mates and minor celebs alike.

I wrapped myself up in my biker gear, squeezed myself into the helmet, struggled to get my fucking bastard specs on, slapped my driver on his back and off we sped into the chilly, windy night.

Hey ho.

Return of the musical mystery
Song title and artist if anybody can be bothered...

Oh, yeah,
Oh, yeah,
Oh, yeah,
Oh, yeah you got to,
Oh, yeah,
Oh, yeah,
Oh, yeah,
You got to get it right......

Too tricky? Try this festive one then:

"Bah, humbug!" No, that's too strong
'Cause it is my favourite holiday