PISS 2000: Bulgaria - Day Nine
- Narwhals attack !
Bloomster was off early doors to get back to fleece students and OAPs at a book-fair, so kindly woke Andy and I up far to early with his extended packing/ humming/ singing session. Breakfast was at Dunkin' Donuts and lunch at an Irish pub. Andy bought clothes and Simon bought trainers. I looked in a scary gun shop and god only knows what that freak Dan Webb got up too.
The night then descended into madness……There is no official record of the drunken night Andy, Simon and Dan had in Sofia, but I will attempt to explain.
After wandering about Sofia, we decided that more food and some beer was in order, so we wandered about and stumbled across an Irish pub. This was a bastion of normal food lost in a pig-swill mess of spunk cake and rakia. I enjoyed a large club sandwich and a pint or two of beer before the festering cold that Bloomster had kindly given me took over and I retired to bed for an early night. It was left to Tigers 2, 3 and 3a to keep the good name of Pendle alive in the Bulgarian capital.
The three of them decided to drink themselves stupid during which Dan got very drunk and threw a load of drinks on the floor. This drew some attention towards our heroes, namely that of some girls sat nearby. They apparently joined the now quite pissed tigers for some tequila shots amongst, I suspect, other drinks and the night wore on. Dan eventually left the pub and headed back home, but Andy, along with Simon and the two (or maybe more) Bulgarian girls went on to a night-club.
It should be pointed out at this point that none of us could speak a useful word of Bulgarian and Simon was carrying all his important belongings in a rucksack, including Dan's' camera, their passports, credit cards and wallets. Simon was initially refused entrance to the night-club, but apparently told the bouncer that "I am English, we take rucksacks into night-clubs". This got them in.
To our boys surprise, the club played loud Turkish techno music. Apparently Andy pulled a Bulgarian stunner and Webbo was left to his own devices, during which he escaped the club, walked back to the hotel from even he doesn't know where and managed to get something to eat on the way home. Also, he withdrew some cash during his travels. Andy left sometime later and I became aware of his presence when he crashed into the room we were sharing and told me all about his night out. Only, I could barely understand him through his drunken slurring and my cold-ridden head. It was 4am and I was quite impressed they had all made it back alive.
Day Ten - Ski Vitosha
For some reason Andy insisted that the Narwhal from the night-club was a raving beauty, a Bulgarian princess, a Sophian stunner. Despite all the alcohol I can recall just how frightening she was. Anyhow, I rest my case with the state of Andy the following morning.
First, both of Andy's cheeks (his facial ones) were rubbed raw from pressing against the barnacle-encrusted flesh of the she-whale. Second, his irritable itching and twitching is symptomatic of scale lice, which typically infest semi-mature Bulgarian female narwhals. These are flesh burrowing lice which lay eggs in the groin and fin-pits of the whale, but will survive equally as well on human blubber.
The real give away was Andy slipping off the chair lift the following day. His body was smothered in whale blubber which stayed solid in the mountain air of Vitosha, but was liquefied by our visit to the mountain hut/oven. Well lubricated by the liquid blubber and other body secretions, he was unable to maintain position on the lift, slipping to certain ridicule in the snow below.
Andy and Simon on the pull
Andys Bulgarian girlfriend
We drove up Vitosha mountain in a motorised shed that Yoda had borrowed from an Albanian museum. Every time he moved the steering wheel, the oil light came on. On arrival at the ski-resort we skirted around the back of some tumbledown shacks, where behind a pile of stones was a hidden door.
This led to a dimly lit tunnel and onwards from there into the very heart of Vitosha mountain. This lead to a series of low chambers which housed a complete colony of freaks, social rejects and facially deformed dwarfs. These were to be our hosts for the day.
These feral beasts survived entirely on fermented dog scabs known locally as "Bogka". They emerged only during the twilight hours, but today, under the guidance of Yoda, they were to face the sunlight. Emerging from their burrows, they blinked and squinted in the morning sun, scavenging a few tasty morsels from the rotting wood and detritus of the mountain-side. Communicating with a series of semi-audible grunts, clicks and squeals, these things attempted first to kill us and when that failed, to teach us how to ski.
"I've got a brand new croftbine harvester" - By Simon Webb.
I drove my croftbine through the moguls last night,
I drank Rakia until I lost all my sight,
But Yoda's telling me, that you want to ski,
come on now crofters, you learn by watching me.
'cause I've got a brand new croftbine harvester,
It cost me levlets, three.
We'll muller all the good snow slopes
and make it all ic-ey.
We'll catch scabby pig-dogs and fry them for tea
and we have a great big croftbine harvester,
That'll make it hard to ski !
Madness Ski-Vitosha style