Ah yes, the international language of drunks. The ability to communicate on any level, with anyone, anywhere in the world and in any language. I'm sure the Israel/Palestine question could be resolved if Yasser Arafat and Arial Sharon went to Le Mans and met up at the Champagne bar. They could be Twated and then take the Brethrens Chilli Challenge too.
All I know about silage is that when I stood up from the MB lav, there was about a gallon of it staring back at me. God help Bog-woman.
Incidentally, something reminded me last night about THE most revolting story involving a tramp. This happened on my first Le Mans trip in 1988. I'll post it in the depths of winter when we all need cheering up. It'll get you all retching up big stylee!
