So here is the Extreme Trifle “Who’s Who” of banger rallyists. You all know one of these, and if you’re honest there is a bit of you in each of them:
“The Luvvie”
This is the sort of person you clock straight away and make a mental note to avoid like bird flu. The first clue is a voice that is irritatingly louder than everyone else’s. Even though it’s the first day “The Luvvie” has already been to the local market and decked themselves out in ethnic clothing and beads. This has nothing to do with their appreciation of local custom and everything to do with trying to persuade you they are a seasoned traveller and intellectually superior.
Somehow everything reminds them of “the time I was caring for lepers in Jaipur” or when they “reached nirvana on a mountain top in Nepal”. The Luvvie has no mechanical aptitude to offer, never buys a round of drinks and is constantly on the scrounge for a roll up. By the time you reach the end of the rally they will probably have converted to Hinduism/Buddhism/Islam etc…
At the closing party avoid at all costs since this is where they stalk the room looking for anyone willing to become a Facebook friend to make up for their lack of real ones.
“The Health & Safetys”
Usually found in DIY stores on bank holidays The Health and Safetys are reaching way beyond their comfort zone and doing this “for the experience”. Their neighbours in the suburbs back home think they are completely wacky and its been all the talk at the golf club. There’s even been an article in the local paper.
The wheels normally start to come off during the opening party when they complain at the lack of canapés and bucks fizz. Their idea of roughing it means no en-suite so the realisation that there are no showering facilities in the Sahara comes as something of a shock.
They are always up at first light to make a point of tut-tutting at those individuals who are still lying in their own vomit having got rinsed on the local home brew. Later in the day they will comment on the “irresponsible” behaviour of the afforementioned vomit dwellers who are now handbrake turning their vehicles at every opportunity.
The “experience” means that next year they’ll be sticking with the self-catering villa in Tuscany.
“The Showbiz Slacker”
This one comes in two forms. The photographer and the documentary maker. In either case they assume that holding some expensive camera equipment absolves them from any form of mucking in. They rarely have their own vehicle, preferring instead to freeload by riding aboard with various teams (at least those they think will make for a good feature)
The SS is always there to capture your grief when you are digging your way out of a snowdrift/sand dune or trapped under the wheels of your own vehicle, but they couldn’t possibly help or they might not “get the money shot”. The one time you want them to be filming like when you roll your vehicle 15 times and cheat death, they either had the lens cap on, ran out of tape/battery or were filming themselves doing a dramatic voiceover.
And don’t be fooled by the wild claims about “The Documentary”. In Showbiz Slacker speak, Channel 4 = I hope I can flog this to Bravo…
“The Dump Valve”
So called because they are a total waste. Mercifully this type is more commonly found doing donuts in supermarket car parks after dark and if they do venture abroad it’s usually to pick up some sexual disease in Ibiza. Their rally car is only a slightly crappier version of the Nova/Saxo/Punto they drive to work. You know, it’s the one fitted with clear rear lenses and neon under-lighting just so we know they are a complete tool. Once on the rally they fly the flag for the Brits by wearing a Union Jack around their shoulders and variously refer to the locals as “rag-heads” or “darkies”. Justice is usually served when they break every motoring law to find that the local Police don’t do ASBO’s and prefer dishing out a good kicking instead.
“The Missed-the-point-ers”
They’ve turned up in a Landrover Defender, roofrack piled high with spare wheels and jerry cans, winch, sand ladders, snow tyres, army rations, and that’s just for the trip to Dover… Every seasoned banger rallyer knows that cable ties and gaffer tape will suffice for every eventuality except open heart surgery. You’re in the wrong place lads. Chop in the Landy for a Lada and we might be able to share a beer except then you would drive us to suicide with yet another interesting fact about the development of the Rover P1. Always instantly detectable over the CB radio as they insist on using proper CB speak like "we have the backdoor" instead of normal speak like "we are bell end last".
“The Couple”
If you are having relationship problems but can’t quite pluck up the courage to finish it then do a banger rally. Job done. Where else can you bicker constantly about whether the campsite is left up the dusty track or right down the bumpy track. Mates somehow just get on with things whether its two blokes, two girls or a mix. But as soon as you stick a “relationship” inside a car for 5,000 miles it’s a recipe for death by wheel brace. Let’s face it, the only couples who ever have as much fun on banger rallies as everyone else are the swingers…
"The Media Slag"
The Showbiz Slacker's dream. Happy to do anything to get to in a magazine or on the telly even if it means attaching jump leads to testicles. Every trip needs a few of these and they are never hard to find. You can usually spot them at the opening party as they are the ones snorting Sambucca and demonstrating how many straws they can get up their own nose, much to the disgust of the Health & Safety's. The Media Slag almost always brings fireworks on the trip which leads to great amusement when they attempt to launch a rocket from their own arse. They also make good trailblazers. If you are not sure whether the road ahead is mined or how deep the river is, the Media Slag can always be relied upon to go in first all exhausts blazing.
"The Mis-match"
The ones that email in saying, "I really want to do this but none of my mates will come". At Extreme Trifle we pride ourselves on bringing lonely singles together. We would never for a moment contemplate paring up the death-metal loving teenage goth with the retired postmaster. Mwwwhaahahaahaha. Bless, they usually spend the first few days biting their lips and attempting a conversation but by week two it's clear that the only thing they have in common is a desire to kill the other by wheelspinning on their head. Hell, despite our best attempts sometimes they actually like each other. Although we are still waiting for the first Extreme Trifle wedding...
“The Gap Year Students”
Ok let’s be clear. For the sake of this argument we shall divide these in to two camps. The real students and the trustafarians. Real students don’t buy a wreck off Ebay for a two week trip, they bring their actual car, usually a knackered Fiat Uno once owned by their mum. Trustafarians by contrast thought they would squeeze the trip in as they were “heading that way” anyway as part of their round-the-world-spending-daddy’s-money-fest. Real students can make a single pot noodle last for over 3 days whilst the trustafarian has made short shrift of the Fortnum & Mason hamper that was a good luck present from Uncle Torquil. But they do all have one thing in common and that is their ability to excel in extreme drunkenness, generally get naked at any opportunity and probably get some sex on the trip, even if it is with each other.
“The Travel Buddy”
Buys a beer, likes a joke, don’t take themselves too seriously, and always stops to help out even if they know nob all about fixing stuff. Basically the sort of person you’d put on your list to do another rally with. There’s not many ways you can go from total stranger to good mate in a couple of weeks, but chuck in some old vehicles and some comedy breakdowns and you’ve got yourself some new travel buddies.
“The Horny Swedish lesbians”
If only...
1 comment:
As much as it pains me...I have to admit to being the bastard love child of the "Health and Safety's" and the "Hands off Mechanic"
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