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Captain Johnsy's address

22nd February 2012

Three Revealing Conversations …………… and Three F*ck ‘Ems!

I have battled with my conscience since taking this ride, hence the delay in getting this report on line, but have come to the conclusion that it is probably best out in the open.

The following three conversations give an insight into the kind of person our Captain is. The truth behind the jovial, fun loving exterior is very different.

On the afternoon of the ride I was called by the Captain. The conversation went like this:

Cap: Alright butt, what sort of ride you got planned, Owg?

Spindles: Well, the weather is pretty sh*t, but I thought we could do a fair bit of singletrack interspersed with some solid lane work

Cap: Sod that, get in the pub early and make a night of it, son.

Spindles: But what about the boys John, they deserved a tidy ride, mun?

Cap: F*ck ’em! I am the Captain and what I say goes! I’ve had ‘ell of week in work; I’ve had three specials of Harry Hill’s TV Burp to record and had two Elvis tribute gigs as well ; one in Gabalfa and one in Ton Pentre. Both audiences jeered me off stage calling me a man who pleasures in fondling himself??!

Roll on another four hours ………………………………

So we headed for the Risca House Inn, nestled in a quiet corner of a picturesque town situated on the eastern flanks of the South Wales coalfield. And what a quaint little watering haven it turned out to be; lovely décor, even better ambiance, engaging clientele and attentive bar staff.

Risca people are known as ‘cuckoos’ but on this occasion it was the Moos who took over this native little ‘nest.’

After a few pints, the first Moos started to leave. After a few more the second batch of Moos left, heading up the steep side of Ochre Wyth, and eventually the T.A, where Ashley was adding the garnish to the culinary offering of the night.

By now there were the ‘magnificent seven plus one (Crock)’ Moos left, and at this time also the second revealing conversation took place between the Cap and Ride Leader, via a chance meeting in the p*ss house.

Spindles: Cap, we better start thinking about heading back to HQ butt, it’s going to take a while to ride over to Machen.

Cap: Don’t worry you pr*ck, I called the landlord of this pub this afternoon and he said he could give two of us a lift home.

Spindles: But Cap there’s eight of us left, we can’t leave the others to ride over when we are getting a lift.

Cap: F*ck ‘em! They were dull enough to follow us over here, let ‘em ride home, it’ll do ‘em good. Anyway I am the Cap and what I say goes!

Spindles: I can’t agree to that Cap. Bl*ody hell it wasn’t like this in the old days, the Cap is supposed to look after the boys.

Cap: Listen Spindles, if you don’t go along with this I will personally see to it that you are banished from the club for good, you spindly legged tw*t! Your having Tw*t of the Month as it is!

Roll on till shut tap …………………………

The last six Moos, except for Cap and myself, left the pub. I was wrought with guilt but obviously didn’t want to lose my treasured Moos membership.

The third, and final, conversation between the Cap and me took place just after Griff came back into the pub, concerned about our whereabouts.

Spindles: C’mon Cap, this has gone too far now, let’s go with the rest of the boy’s mun.

Cap: I told you already Spinds, F*ck ‘em! They’ll probably all fall off anyway, especially that dull tw*t Griff he can’t ride for toffee. I am not scraping them off the lane this time of night. Have another pint and we’ll catch ‘em up in the landlords van!

Well as you can imagine I was gob smacked. I was so disgusted that I had a job to finish my pint!

The rest, as they say, is history!


The White Rivaldo

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