Well, I've been back since midnight on monday but the mist has only just started to clear.
Firstly can I thank the ACO for f**king up the allocation and allowing me to spend one of the best Le Mans ever with some truly great people.
Upon arrival ice cold ones were thrust upon us by Rick Cutler, tent erection help was given by Steve Zarse, Andy built our BBQ and then the lovely Melans took up refuge on my three piece suite to provide the necessary eye candy.
A few ales later and it was time for the Brethren DJ Mash up which by all accounts (once we had managed to prise Sgt Major Chop away from the decks) went down a storm. I was unable to see at this point so can't comment (thanks Rex!)
Andy was again on hand saturday to deal with a very temperamental generator (I don't think she liked that French diesel sh*t - it's yellow FFS) and then, after several very pleasant naps on my sofa, off to
Azerbaijan the DfH party. Great night as per usual but the evenings more amusing events didn't occur until back at Team Zarse. The less said about that the better I think sufficed to say for a well aged man I thought he was particularly under developed
What happened saturday? I think I went to the track then turned back for another sofa session followed by the Poo Bar. Reasonably enjoyable then moved on to the Guinness Bar where I think it's fair to say things got out of hand. I hope that photographer took it all as a joke
Back to the Zarses again and things get very sketchy here, a theme that continued for the rest of the weekend.
Sunday was going to be a quiet day wasn't it Vicki? Good job we didn't start the red wine at lunchtime then. Unfortunately missed the piano wrecking on saturday night but myself and Lead Pianist Steve Brown managed to get some wonderful tunes out of her in the afternoon before the ritual burning in the evening. Which I missed. As I was taking a nap. Something to do with Sausage and a "special cigarette" I think. Woke again a few hours later raring to go, just in time to burn the sofas with Weena and Claire dancing around the fire (wearing VERY flammable wigs) like some sort of fire fairies. Bob wasn't there and definitely didn't do anything inappropriate
Shame MB was so far as didn't get to see JPC and DfH very much but the HA Nord posse more than made up for it.
Thoroughly superb weekend with some rather unpleasant images now burnt into my brain. I will definitely never be the same again.
This summary, largely, is my recollection of events in approximately the right order.
The race was the best for years, those Audi chaps are masters of racing tactics and beating cars who were six seconds a lap faster in qualifying has to go down as an amazing feat of strategy. Loved the Group C, it made me feel very old, and of course standing opposite the Aston pit at the finish brought a lump to my throat.
We arrived later than planned, and the Zarses pitched in with BobU, Niclivs lot, the Frogeyed folk and of course our old pals from the SPS. Our communal camp at HAS was, by popular acclaim, a huge success. So thanks to all and sundry for making it what it was. Enjoyed St Saturnin very much, a nice dose of civilisation and thanks to Doris for driving us there. Someone left some bacon and sausages in our freezer, what would they like me to do with them? I guess I could have them sent on?
Other than that, on the social side, some terrible things happened. Terrible terrible things. The Brethren set on the thursday was banging, had an amazing time, spoilt only by having to listen to Paul Zarse's rap rubbish, and worse still, his cantralto version of Ladies Night. Dreadful, I've a video somewhere of him doing it twenty years ago wearing a hoody!
The DfH party was equally a highlight, thanks for the hospitality ladies and gents, Mr Vice was at his finest. Got home on the beer scooter somehow, I think Chris was wearing a dress and Weena was by this stage sporting an exceptioanlly rude teeshirt. I found a pink feather boa in the back of the van when cleaning out last night. I can only assume it's got something to do with this, alternatively I was paid a visit by John Inman in the night. Regret the only L'pool Boy I met was Chris, mind you, he's looking fantastic these days! Loads of other people we didn't have enough time with, a function perhaps of MB being sooo far away from HA. Still, I'm glad we made the switch. Delighted JPC is still with us, sorry to hear of Jimmy and anyone else who had a small tale of woe.
As Rob says, matters nearly got out of hand at the Guinness Bar on saturday. This incidentally has become the new poo bar, like it used to be three or four years ago. We first met The Brethren and Melans late afternoon (very impressed with Weena's staying power, she appeared to be very close to maximum refreshment level, yet got her second wind and stayed out til close of play about twelve hours later). We had a few cordial pints before heading off to watch a bit of racing and back to base camp on HA for tea. Then more racing and off to the Poo Bar, which was good of course, but not quite like it used to be. We decided to cut our losses and moved on to the Guiness Bar.
Rob mentioned the French photographer. What a nasty little man, unannounced he stood on a stool amongst us to take snaps with his big telephoto lens of the idiots dancing on the tables with no clothes on (have they never jeard of youtube for God's sake?). Anyway, he kept showing us close-ups of other mens' winkles. What a pervy old sod, taking candid nude pics is not an attractive trait IMO. Finally, his presence became somewhat tiresome and the steps taken to remove him involved written curses, fire and finally what I can only describe as a whirlpool of liquid hatred. Even so, he took a little while to wander off. Oh, and Brad; you're in!
Presently, Rex Chris and myself decided, for reasons which remain uncertain, that what was required was the services of a wheelybin on the dance floor. Clearly we needed a dancing girl too adorn this unique mode of transport, Weena being selected for the task. After a little while, a path was cleared and in we rampaged onto the dance floor. The general hoypoloy went berserk and were upon it like a herd of babboons, whooping and screaming. We left them to it, also leaving them to explain matters to Security. All good clean fun, nothing got broken and nobody was hurt. After that, things really livened up. If only I could remember what happened, I think Hieronymus Bosch did a painting of something similar, it certainly looks reminicent, especially when Nicliv lit the thermite!
The Zarses want to say a huge thanks, a completely vintage year in all respects, sides still hurt from the laughter created by a fantastic bunch of fellow lunatics, we can't possibly name them all, but if we met you at Le mans, you probably made us laugh, or gave us a beer, or did summat ridiclous so whoever you are, well done and see you next year.
For the entirely seperate Commer story, I'll put something on the MCR thread in a day o two.
TEAM ZARSE - It's our pleasure!
