Suprisingly, there was a good turnout on Wednesday night, despite the damp conditions in pretty much the whole bottom of the bowl. There was just enough room between the slickness to do the usual flyout lines off the nuggets (are there any other lines?). However, the deep end even proved to be to wet for puddle enthusiast Shane, hard times.

Most people decided to grumble and drink rather than ride, Simon managed to grumble and ride, obviously. Dye, Jimmy and the Witch turned up fashionably late, blaming Arsenal traffic - most of which fresh office boy Pete probably caused, by dodging a cold night at the bowl for a Champions League match. Punter. Some Child Catching peado made an appearance, much to everyones delight. Then we went to the pub, that was the best bit.

Team 2000 mainstay, Dom, managed to pull the first Rupert of a Wednesday night (see previous blog for jargon explanation), although the jury is still out on weather it actually counted. Chris and Rob bought some shit chips from the shit Falafel King. Then we advised their prospective (Swedish girl) customers that the Kings chips were in-fact shit and that they should go across the road to buy the better ones. Falafel king man did not look happy. The Poof then decided to live up to his name by telling us that he didn't like the Swedish girls because they didn't look enough like boys. Talk about digging your own grave.