Erta

[BigH]

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[smokie]

BigH are you somewhere in the pic but invisible? Up inside her skirts, or worse?

[Andy]

Smokie, as you know my wife is large and has ample flesh she even feels like twiggy compared to that photo.
is there emergency exits posted at every orifice?

[Andy Zarse]

Big Women!

Brings back some memories H. And some nightmares. This woman traumatised me as a young man. Still, she had a heart of gold.

I remember there was a photo in her booth (or milking parlour or whatever it was called). It showed Erta having her tits weighed on Japanese telly. Can't remember how much they weighed but it was something ridiculous like three stone each. From memory, I think she was last in Le Mans in about 1992.


She's dead now by all accounts. May the Good Lord rest her big breasted soul.

[Pidgeon]

  You can always 'get her in a wrinkle'

[Matt Harper]

Good 'ol Big H - can always be counted on to raise a smile.
I first encountered this lady during a mid-eighties race. I was so hammered I just pointed and laughed like most of the other patrons.
A few years later, I got railroaded into visiting her again - and it was a horribly uncomfortable experience. I was only mildly spannered and I just felt awful, standing there with all these other dudes, just staring. I didn't know where to look. The uneasy tension was broken, however, when one of my mates offered her a frite.
Anyone remember the 'have a go' boxing booth? I think the pugilist was called Alfonse and he took on all-commers. If you could stay on your feet for one round you won a prize. I attended (strictly as a spectator) for 3 years on the trot and never saw anyone lay a glove on the bugger. He was a bit spindley and middle-aged, with slicked-down hair and a curly waxed moustache, but he was also well'ard and no error. Highly amusing and not a little gory. He disappeared about the same time the 'shooting of flagpole tethered balloons with .38 revolvers attraction' was not to be found in the fairground. I couldn't see any harm in wielding hand canons with live hollow-points, while sh*t-faced in a 250,000 crowd personally, but some people are a little over-cautious, I guess.

[Rusty]

That brought back a few mammories H.
I'll forward the pic to some of the Old Crew.
As I mentioned before, Doom's hard drive was named after her many years ago, how on earth he managed a hard on beggars belief as viagra hadn't even been thought of then. He must be made of greater stuff than us mere mortals.
Rusty

[BigH]

Matt, I can detect some very vague recollections of Alphonse, but thankfully was never drunk or stupid enough to climb into the ring.

This all reminds me of an embarrassing incident with the punchbag gadget though. You know the one, you insert a coin, and the punch-ball drops down, - proceed to give it a clattering, and a needle on a dial registers your manliness.

I remember it being giving a good old going over at the time by some very hard looking swarthy locals. Just punching it wasn't good enough; there was drop kicking and head-butting going on as well. Goaded on by my 'mates', I decided to give it a go, shouldered my way amongst the double Y chromosome boys, and put my penny in the slot. (I know it's probably taken as read, but I'll quickly confirm we'd been on the sauce for 36 hours or so..). Realising a standing punch wouldn't be good enough for these Darwin-defying droogs, I shaped up for a couple of steps then got ready to unleash a meter busting haymaker. Well, things didn't go quite as planned. I accelerated up to the ball ok, and wound the punch up fine, but missed the ball altogether. My momentum carried past the machine and into and through the bushes behind the whole contraption. I think I got tangled up with a towing hitch somewhere.

It took me a while to re-orientate myself, get out of the bushes and get on my feet. The lads were all hooting on the floor rolling in side clutching laughter. The chromosome kids didn't even crack a smile, but just continued to look very hard. Apparently the needle did wobble a fraction, some of the lads reckoned it was the draught I caused as I whistled past, one still reckons it was gravity...

Rusty, let me know if Dooms stuff is still stern, and I can e-mail him a higher res pic.

H

[Andy Zarse]

I saw one of the mouth-breathing morons, that H descrides so well, take a mighty whack and miss the punchbag completely. However, he did did suceed in hitting the steel arm that supports the bag itself. It was tremendously amusing to see and hear his hand and wrist disintegrate! He went quite ashen and fell to the floor making a strange grunting noise.

Talking of things fairground, did anyone else ever go on that glorified Cakewalk contraption that has occasionally attended the race over the years? I think it was called the House of Fun or something.

We went on it whilst being lashed right up. It is probably the funniest thing any of us have ever seen. There is a type of revolving steel drum and we kept one of the guys in there for about twenty or thirty revolutions. In cartoon style, he was tossed about like a giant shirt in a big tumble dryer, arms and legs flailing. Only when his head was a mass of bruises and contusions did we let him out. His own mother would not have recognised him. Hilarious.

But he got his revenge by pushing me over on the conveyor belt that shunts back and forth as you try to walk along it. The bloke controlling it could see I was lying down, head pointing towards the exit. So he sent me back and forth a few times whilst I struggled to get up in the style of a cow with BSE. Then he put it on max and sent me shooting off the end of the belt, slamming my head with a sickening thud into the plate steel wall. (Well it sickened me anyway). My, how all my pals laughed at me!

In a state of high dudgeon and knowing when I was beaten, I strode purposfully down the slope for the exit. Unbeknown to me, the floor was made of steel rollers. Before you could say Whistling Jack Smith, I was running backwards at high speed, whilst leant forwards at a crazy angle, trying to regain my balance. Then I was up in the air with my feet about four foot above my head, like a scene out of Laurel and Hardy and back on my arse again.

Up I got, and went down the stairs to remonstrate with the operator who was clearly a sadist and now beginning to piss me off. Regrettably, I had not realised the stairs were collapsible and the steps are prone to fall away from you. Before I could open even my mouth, he had hit the button marked "Collapse zee Escalier" so I was back on my arse again, sliding to the bottom in a heap.

Right you bastard! I thought, I'm really going to give you a piece of my mind now. Oh no I wasn't, cos of yet more steel rollers. My arse was getting used to it by this point.  There were people literally lying on the floor like stroke victims, unable to move or speak with the choking hilarity of it all.

It seems a shame it has not been back since about 98. I have some pay back to do.......

[gibberish]

Zarse on his arse............hilarious

[BigH]

Yes Andy, I remember it fondly. With contusions.

In the same box of pics as Erta I've a shot of the Caracus Ghost Train. Do you remember this one?

The train ran on two levels, there was the usual ghostly paraphenalia and on the first floor level the train emerged over the crowd below for a moment on a hairpin, then disappeared back into the gloom. This of course presented a fine opportunity for Englishmen to stand and moon, and it wasn't overlooked. I'm looking at my mates arse now, and I have to say it's a little more grizzled these days. (yes Trevor, you!)

Gilles, why is the fair a shadow of it's former self these days, is the ACO going all PC on us?

H

[Steve Pyro]

Gilles, why is the fair a shadow of it's former self these days, is the ACO going all PC on us?

H

I recall a thread about 6 or 8 weeks ago about the demise of the fairground, no Wall of Death, no Strip Show etc.
S**t, sooner or later there'll be nothing and I'll have to watch a load of cars driving round on Saturday night instead  

[Matt Harper]

"This all reminds me of an embarrassing incident with the punchbag gadget though".

Yup, I suspect a few of us have given that punchbag some serious hammer, causing a variety of emotions ranging from acute embarrasment to agonising pain.

I miss some of the more 'carni' attractions that were all there, year in-year out during the early 80's. High on the list was the aforementioned balloon shooting gig. Maybe I was on crack, but I'm fairly certain that a large calibre revolver with live ammo (not 'wadding', like the pump shotguns used) was handed to the customer, in exchange for 100Fr (about a tenner at the time). The object was to take out a bunch of balloons that had been hoisted up a flagpole, right in the middle of the fairground. The potential for wholesale slaughter was very real, which presumably lead to the attractions demise.
The shotguns were fun too, albeit a little more benign than the handguns. We got into a spot of bother one year when, bored with blasting dinner plates, we took out some of the prizes. The gypo's running the stall were slightly pissed-off that we beheaded some of their giant teddy bears, but kept their cool (wise - given that we were pointing the loud end of our sawn-offs in their direction).
We were also ejected from one of the strip-shows after one of our lot yelled "Geddem On!" when one of the swamp donkeys decided to display her cookie.
The fairground sucks compared to how it used to be. I could discuss the nude bungee jumping (if you did it in the rip, you jumped for free) at some length (Fnarr, fnarr) - one or two very pissed and not too shabby young women took advantage of the offer and educated me to the aerodynamic qualities of top bollocks.
It was ace in those days - even with the warm Kanterbrau and 'orrible sunburn.  

[Pidgeon]

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[Rusty]

Next to Erta, the best 10 francs spent was definately the Wall of Death. I am saddened to see it passing even more so. true showmanship as hard core as it comes. All of our new boys would be initiated there.
The shotguns were also a riot, particularly when one vendor was pressed by Hinch to cough up a prize after what he though was a succesful round,. The vendor  blanky refused Hinches demands, so  a reload for all 6 of us was called for and on the word, we shot all the prizes. HOORAY!!!!
Hinch sadly caught a round of rock salt up his chuff when the vendor discharged a few rounds at us when we ran off laughing our f**k*ng heads off. It really hurt apparently, but it was well worth it.
BRING BACK OUR FAIRGROUND!!!!
Rusty