S4E18

The Insider

Saturday, April 11th, 2009

Sick of him
Chesney (WarmUp) was fortunate enough to take a lady home this week for some loving. It was a evening that went ‘well’ in his books, until half way through doing the act, she felt the urge to be sick… you’d think it would be some kind of sign or deterrent to get a good nights sleep, but instead they changed the sheets, and finished off the deed.

April fool
A few people around town got stung on the 4th April, and Jimmy (Foret) was no exception. The Foret boys together with Jonny (Dicks manager) thought it’d be a splendid idea to take Jimmy out, get him so wasted he didn’t remember anything, and when he woke in the morning tell him Jonny wanted a ‘meeting’ with him. After waitin an hour to go in, an anxious and terrified Jimmy was sat down and interrogated by Jonny for chatting up Jonny’s girlfriend Sam, a furious Jonny drilled him, and while he apologized profusely the boys and sat and chuckled, they kept him going for a good hour before finally relieving him of his pain.

The Animals went in Two by Two
George (ex-Mark Warner) and Tom (Dicks) picked up two nannies and took them back to their place, all ending up in the same bed together. George then broke the slightly awkward silence by enquiring whether either of them would care to go south with the mouth. I would name and shame the nannies in question but when asked, neither George nor Tom could tell me which company they worked for, or even what their names were.

Dunnit at it again
It appears from the photo page that Dave (Moris) has been ‘on it’ of late. Ed decided to by around of black sambuca shots, including on for a very drunk Dave, then unraveled a dropped a condom into Dave’s shot glass. Dave demanded a new one, but when refused by Matt (Blue Note) unless he paid for another, Dave picked up the glass, and swallowed the sondom in one gulp. Not remembering anytihg the following day, they though it best to inform him, unless he had a surprise next bathroom visit, or some kind of ‘rare stomache disease.’

My oh my
Henry (Dicks vestiere) works long nights in the cloak room. Whilst on a wee nap, Mark (Dicks floorboy) put a melted Twix bar down his pants. To this day Henry hasn’t said anthing. So don’t stress Henry, it was a joke and appears you didn’t actually shit yourself.

Record time
Jamboy (Saloon) has woken up twice this week in his own sick, must be the end of the season!

2/4 busboys from Saloon have ended up in Bourg hospital of late, and it hasn’t been gnarly riding accidents, no it’s been drunken behaviour. Morten was taken down after being found by the Geane Darmerie in an unresponsive state. Quite impressive however, he woke up in hospital the next morning not remembering a great deal, and was back at work that night.

The challenge is off
The Saloon Long Island Challenge is no longer! This is because Will (chalet rep) managed 12 long islands in 2.5 hours. After an hour he was found dancing on his side (thinking he was standing up) on the dancefloor as George belted out the beats. He was later taken hom by his chalet friends on a state too messy to mention.

An early birthday
Phil (Bar Alexander) has decided it’s just not fair for all those who birthdays after the season to not be able to celebrate with friends. And so, on Saturday 18th April, his having his birthday a month early, it’s rumoured Mullit will be playing to help celebrate this momentous occasion, kicks off at 9pm.

Bed hopping
Hannah (Saloon) has been fired and barred for 2 weeks for reasons we will not share. Ever since, she’s been getting messy, one particular morning she woke up in La Daille next to Harry (Dicks). She’ gone home with one of his housemates, done the deed, then decided his bed wasn’t very comfortable, so jumped in with Harry. According to the lads, during her bed swapping she relieved herself and pissed in a ski boot too.

Finnish Skiing

Friday, April 11th, 2008

It was April 2005 and I had been invited to a ‘northern oil symposium’ in Lapland. Having arrived in Helsinki the night before, we boarded the connection to the town of Kittila, 100 miles above the Arctic Circle. The population up there is 0.6 people per square kilometre. Safe to say if Santa does exist he must be the principal employer.

Landing at one of the more remote airports I’ve ever been to, I was encouraged to find their facilities were still better than the charter side of Geneva. We were met by a rep, lead upstairs into a room and told to put on a flame retardant suit and helmet. We watched as the minibus I was convinced was our transfer drove off with all our bags in it and we were taken outside to discover that we’d be transferring to the chalet by skidoo. Finland being the country of rally drivers and speed freaks, there were about as many instructions given on how to make them work as there are on a clitoris and once all ten had been switched on, off we went, quickly discovering that speed limiter is also not a word that exists in the Finnish language.

Taking the long route to the ski resort of Levi via about three bars, a frozen lake and one trader going over his handlebars and into a tree, we arrived at a Husky dog station. Husky sleds look like sturdy contraptions when you see them on TV loaded with goods and being lead across frozen wastelands, but they’re basically recycled wicker chairs and about as robust as a chocolate oven glove. The owners had been cross-breeding their dogs with wolves for better performance and I was told mine were racing dogs moments before they released them, dragging me out onto the ice with all the aplomb of Stevie Wonder taking a typing test.

The next morning it was finally time to ski. Levi is basically a 400m hill with runs going off in every direction but champions itself as having the only bubble in Finland. You won’t be challenged by the runs but you will be challenged by the après-ski as multiple shots of vodka come marching out onto the lunch table as routinely as an SS platoon with OCD. Reindeer is the local animal and the local food so prepare for Rudolf sausages, steaks and stews. It’s also the moniker of the local nightclub, the Crazy Reindeer Arena, allegedly the largest bar in Europe. There we were treated to a band I can only describe as looking like Madness in shorts, and a variety of shots as oil traders from various countries in Europe tried to outdo one another with their respective local moonshines.

I boarded the plane back to Helsinki with a hangover the size of Mexico and nine other broken traders. It might not be the biggest ski resort in the world, or even the best equipped, but it still follows the tried and tested ski, drink, sleep and repeat formula. If you want to one-up your friends when they talk about the more unusual ski resorts they’ve been to, not to mention pick up some branded merchandise that looks like it’s a cheap knock-off of a popular American jeans company, then consider stopping by.