After the arrival of the 'dick heads' (and I say that as they are not my friends, if they were I would call them cunts) and upon arrival at the docks to get our ferry it was only natural my best friend and I sank four beers during the crossing. We did this in not much more than an hour and after staying up all night driving/ co-driving we were pissed. It was evident we were also some light entertainment as the public watched us devour pints for breakfast.
We reach France and leave the docks only to realise we had a small problem. In a rush to make the boat my friend and I, erm, skipped the part when we were meant to refuel... This was of course an ideal opportunity for Captain Dick Head to vent his fury at the two drunks and I'm quite proud of our response. We politely reminded him had we not sped on we may have missed the boat. Oh yes, we also told him to fuck off. In our drunken haze (which we topped up with beers we packed in Scotland) we had little care for the perilous situation. We left the boat with hardly any fuel according to the dial and were now well over 100 km into France! At the 150 km point the others could relax as we luckily reached a station to refuel and refeed.
We continue with a pattern of drive for a few hours - break - drive a few hours and so on until we reach our destination over a day after our journey began. It's dark, our campsite is closed and we had a 24 man - yes 24 - tent to build. It just got better and better.
To be continued...