Hamish McShanks

Ham Shanks Secret Diary w/e 18^th May 2008

Summer is here and my holidays are fast approaching. This year I’m going on a motorcycle tour round Scotland with my elder brother. Not the whole of Scotland you understand, mainly Caithness and Sutherland and maybes doon the West coast to Oban. A poor mans ‘Long Way Round’ if you like. ‘The Short way roond’ in fact; an abbreviated trip without the support crew, cameras and indeed any external interest. Despite the lack of documentary team and film star participants my bruv was determined to do the whole trip ‘properly’…..

Picture the scene : It’s 6 am in my brothers house; I have been shouted out of bed, shouted down the stairs and I am now sitting bleary eyed at the kitchen table whilst my brother loads a carousel on the overhead projector. Having successfully armed the beast he turns to face his audience (me) ‘So Ham, what’s the most important aspect about our holiday?’, ‘Eeeer to enjoy ourselves?’ I ventured gingerly ‘Wrong!’, ‘It’s the three P’s’ he replied, beaming a manic smile in my direction ‘The three P’s’ I mumbled weakly ‘Planning, Preparation and Performance’ he barked at me, a light spittle settling on my face ‘eeer that’s three P’s and an A surely?’, ‘the and is merely for grammatical correctness ye f@nny!’, ‘oh aye; right’ I replied as the first of many slides flashed up on the screen.

Fast forward four hours and I’m losing the will to live. I’ve seen slides of our route from every conceivable direction, slides depicting the workings of the internal combustion engine, slides illustrating the formation of the many geographical strata we will encounter, satellite images of the terrain and I’ve been forced to memorise the historical meteorological information for Caithness coast from 1945 to present day. ‘Can we take a break please?’, ‘look we’re never going to get through it all if you keep taking breaks’ he replied impatiently ‘I’m going to sh*t myself’ I replied bluntly. Sighing he pointed his swagger stick at the door ‘You’ve got 2 minutes; get out of my sight’

Waddling towards the door I mumbled ‘oh thanks very much, very big of you; ye f*cking prick’ he raised his head from reloading the projector ‘What did you say!’, ‘I said thanks very much, I’ll be double quick’ I replied before slamming the door and giving him the vees from the safety of it’s cover. I probably would have spent more time gesturing from behind the door but I was very nearly touching cloth as it was.

It’s a sad situation when you’d prefer to sit on the cludge with yer eyes watering and yer nose wrinkling like a shrivelled prune than go back and speak to yer own kith and kin. I needn’t have worried though, my two minutes quickly passed and a terse rap at the door was followed by an envelope being thrust under the gap at the bottom ‘here’s some forms for the uurgghh next gnnfmmm sess..jeeesus .. ion’ I did derive some small satisfaction from the sound of his gagging as he legged it back to the kitchen and fresher air.

Opening the envelope I found a questionnaire titled ‘Personal Profiling for Expedition managers’ Thirty two pages long, 250 questions ‘forfuuuucksake!’ This was a Forth Road and Rail bridge too far; I realised I had to escape. There was no prospect of evading capture should I leave the normal way, he had the exits covered. However the toilet does have a small window situated high up behind the ‘user’ But when I say high; I mean ten feet up. It can’t be reached even if yer standing on the cludge.

The prospect of another four hours was motivation enough though. I’d seen this trick in the movies. The room was narrow enough for me to put my feet on one wall and then wedge my back against the oppostite wall. With a bit of effort I should be able to crab my way up to the window. I elected to leave the toilet unflushed as a) flushing it would draw attention and he would wonder where I was and b) it provided an effective nasal deterrent.

The mission impossible music playing in my head I started to ascend ‘da da da da dadaaaa dadaaaa da da da’ I’m sure Tom Cruise wasn’t sweating as much when he did this and I doubt he was suppressing a gag reflex either. It’s not only heat that rises, stench appears to follow a similar path ‘gnnnmmpff n.n.earl.y. th..e.re’ I grunted as my muscles started to protest, but not as much as my nose ‘jeeeeesus am never eating broccoli again’ I was closing in on the window when my left leg started cramping up ‘Ooooyaaaf.f..cker’ fortunately the sudden spasm propelled me the last few inches to the sill and I gratefully pushed open the window and sucked in huge volumes of fresh air ‘Oooooh that’s good’

The respite was brief as a suspicious shout came from outside the room ‘What’s taking so long?’, ‘eeer I’ve had a prolapse’ I shouted back whilst trying to wedge myself through the narrow aperture ‘That’s it I’m coming in!’ I could hear the swagger stick thumping on the door followed by the sound of splintering of wood. I slipped quickly out the window and landed on the roof of the garage. I had to think fast; time was of the essence.

My car keys had been removed along with my belt and shoelaces prior to the start of the presentation but I had a backup plan. My brother kept an old landrover in the garage, the keys were always inside the exhaust pipe. A foolish policy that he was about to regret. Shinning down the drainpipe I crept inside the side door of the garage. Retrieving the keys I quietly opened the drivers’ door and slipped into the seat ‘ha ha I’m home free now’ I whispered as the engine burst into life.

Grinding her into first gear I floored the throttle and let out the clutch. The ancient timbers of the garage door were no match for two and half tons of British engineering ‘Yeee Haaaa’ The boy blunder heard the commotion and came sprinting out the back door ‘Too late ye officious bawbag ha ha haooomppfff’ a little less gloating and slightly more attention on my driving would have helped. Brick walls provide more than adequate resistance and the last thing I saw before I passed out was a swagger stick heading towards my nose.

‘Whassat?Mmnnff?’, ‘Ah you’re back with us; excellent’ I realised I couldn’t move, I was tied to a kitchen chair, my hands had been bound behind my back and my eyelids were being held open with gaffer tape, a second strip was across my mouth ‘I’ve had to take steps to ensure your attention Ham’ the projector screen was in front of me ‘Now if you remember we were covering communication’, ‘here’s some slides depicting the wiring of a radio set’, ‘what’s wrong Ham you look tense?’, ‘mmngnffmastard’, ‘what about some nice relaxing music’ he hit the play button …

‘You make me feel like dancing; gonna Dance the night away’, ‘You make me feel like dancing’, ‘I’ll just leave that on a loop for you Ham; I should be back in an hour or two, three at most .. mhuhaha ha haaa’, ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!’

# posted by Ham Shanks @ 7:49 am