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There once was ten bogans who road tripped to München in Germany for a little party they heard was gonna be off the chain. The party had a name.
The ten bogans piled into one small van-type bus in London and set upon their way. Google maps said it would take them 12 hours but they were all prepared with lollies and choccies and a couple of bottles of vodka for sipping in the back- but only beer for the driver. They were pretty responsible when it came to their safety and such. After one hundred toilet stops, a quick detour through the Netherlands and 25 hours the bogans and their little bus arrived.
“München!” they all said in perfect unison together. “We made it! Huzzah!” And they promptly patted themselves and those nearest to them on the back. They unpacked their shit at a campsite which they had found with the help of a device which could apparently talk to the satellites, and they purchased beers from a vending machine- which was a first for all of them- and they bought some chippies with mayonnaise on top and they prepared for the big party, which was fancy dress. All of them had lost their invitations because they had not printed them off Facebook but it soon became clear that everybody at their campsite was also headed to the party so there was a special bus they could jump on to get right there.
When they got to the party the ten bogans were so pleased. This was a big shindig. Unlike any shindig they had seen ever before. Matt had a sister, Sharon, who once had a really big wedding for her second marriage- but even that couldn’t compare to this party. Beers were served in the most ginormous glasses which Barry found out were actually 1 liter big: “That’s like a carton of milk!” He grinned.
Everybody had got right into the spirit of dressing up- all the girls had tight bodice type dresses which almost looked like fancy lingerie outside of fancy white blouses and the boys had all went right out with button down shirts and nice corduroy shorts and suspenders and the lot. It was just a great vibe at this party. Whoever’s birthday it was must’ve been totally stoked with the turnout too.
“I’m starvin’ marvin’ fellas,” Said Jacqui. “I’m off to find meself one of those pork knuckle things. They look farkin’ good.” And she was off to find herself a pork knuckle. And they didn't see her until midday the next day coz apparently she found a pork knuckle and some free beers and some new friends and then she had found the bus home but she had missed the stop outside the campsite on account of her having a little kip on the way. When she got to Austria in the wee hours of the morning she made some more new friends who asked if she wanted to stay at their house and then they drove her home the next day. Jacqui was pretty lucky really ‘cause it would’ve been a right pickle to get back with no money all the way from Austria. Jacqui was pretty lucky a lot. Sally said she must’ve had an angel type watching over her shoulder at parties and social occasions.
Well, Jacqui’s angel was not present while the other nine sank pints and danced on tables and annihalated pork knuckles and made strangers do pushups for saying random words which they never had any hope of avoiding. There was a lot to be said for peer pressure and yelling at strangers. But, Jacqui’s angel was certainly not present when they left that night: Danny had lost his dignity in the back of a beer hall, Matt had lost his flip flops, Barry had a black eye from an unfortunate prosting, Sally and Tara and Megan were all short of phones, cameras and sunglasses because Sally had left her bag under a table of beers. Then they couldn’t find it. The other five didn’t get home- they were all caught urinating in public and were taken immediately to jail and weren’t released until Brent’s rich uncle Bill wired through €10,000 for bail in two days. No. No lucky angel for them.
But, they still had pictures of the event on Matt’s camera and so, later when they all perused the Oktoberfest album on Facebook they remembered the adventure with grins and fond memories.
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