The Sack of Avon

    Chunkolini here. I have a report to file. The visit to stRATford on Avon, birthplace of William von Shakespeare was a blinding success.

    We rocked, maaan.

    Eight of us on freak bikes. Nothing will be the same again. The skate punks had to dig us because their chicks did! Ha Ha. Forty+yearolds being cooler than teenagers. Ha Ha Ha.

    Three gangs, no bloodshed, no attitude. Just a mutual thing.

    The two crazy americans, Tory and Jared stayed at my Ma and Pa's place. Tory is like one of the Waltons cute as pie and dig those shoes, he came dressed as an American (his check was a little quiet but dig those shoes).

    Martin from Manchester, worked until 6.00am then drove 150 miles to mill round town with a bunch of idiots he had never met before. Maybe the biggest loony I have ever met. Charlie a nice boy, rides silly bikes has bad ideas check out . The bikehotrodders serious boys worried about stuff see . Oh yeah and Mr M23 and myself. The recipe for a day to forget.

    After an hour of carpark stuff we hit town. A town over 500 years old, wiggly streets and all. I popped out the alley of doom on Godzilla into a busy street of shops, after getting my ass stuck on the roof, followed by a pack of Ratbikes. Good reaction. Through the designer shopping mall, Gucci, marble floors and all, the security droid took one look winked and ran away. Warm beer in the 'Pub' (an english thing) see the barman stickered up wearing my RatHat. A queen among men. Group shot well we showed up. Martin is crazy, his neighbour confiscated the football off some kids, says what do I do with this? Martin makes a helmet out of it, and the thing is a perfect fit! Some people can do this.

    Pack riding is such good stuff. We saw your St Ratricksday stuff. Cool.

    Ta ta, Chunkolini.