Albert Map's Summer Vacation

By Fatman

Summer time was here again, and Albert and his faithful pal Arthur had decided to head off to delightful old Wales for a jolly holiday.

The tent and the luggage were stacked high on the back of his sporty motorcycle and they set off into the chemical smog of ICI Runcorn only to disappear for five days, but that’s another story.

Eventually after a disastrous start they arrived at Bala Lake and Albert pulled over at the Rose and Crown for pie dinner washed down with three pints of the landlords frothing dishwater beer. Slightly sozzled Albert and Arthur staggered from the pub into the dazzling sunshine mounted the bike and continued on their journey.

The journey took them through meandering country roads leading high up into the Snowdonia central park. Stopping only occasionally to top-up the welsh reservoirs, they were soon on the coast road heading to Shell Island.

Albert had been there twice before and was gob smacked by its tranquillity and beauty. After setting up camp the pals headed of to local alehouse in Llanbedr to get hammered. The Pub was called ‘the Old Vic’ and Albert and Arthur immediately engaged in banter with some local beer swilling forestry people who seemed to take a shine to Arthur’s scouse wit. At the end of night the pals drove back to the campsite but on the way, they discovered to their horror that the road leading back was partly covered by the incoming tide. The only way back was on foot so they decided to leave the bike at the side of the road. A marker showing maximum tide height was some distant away so Albert assumed the bike would be safe. As Albert and Arthur walked cautiously through the water they started to feel uneasy as the water got deeper. Luckily the level never got deeper than knee height but a damp night was had by both as slept in their sleeping bags. The next day they both went down to the showers to clean up, while Arthur was brushing his teeth and Albert putting in his contact lens, somebody in trap one was letting rip with a bad case of flatulence, Arthur thought it amusing and started making great big raspberry sounds but the bloke suddenly appeared from out of the trap looking all red and angry. When the bloke left they both burst out laughing and followed him out. After they had retrieved the stranded motorcycle from the following night they then spent the rest of the day on the beach playing football and swimming.

“Tonight Albert lets go down to local campsite bar ”said Arthur .Albert agreed, so that night they went down to the local bar. The bar was quiet except for a group of young lads and two teenage girls who were making a bit of din in the corner. Albert and Arthur took no notice and sat down with a couple of beers chatting about memories of school days. After an hour or so one of the young trollops came over and asked Arthur if he would buy them a drink, he agreed but asked for the cash up front. The girl handed him the money and then sat down next to Albert and called to her friend to come over. She didn’t have much to say apart from their names were Doreen and Daphne, her friend looked as dumb as her but very timid . Soon Arthur came back with the drinks and then suddenly from out of nowhere appeared the group of young lads, I think they were after the young girls but the girls didn’t seem to be interest in them. It looked the girls had taken a shine to Albert and Arthur instead.

Arthur whispered to Albert “if we play are cards right we could be in with a bit of hows your father tonight” and after Arthur had put the frighteners on the lads, they where.

The next day Arthur had a spring in his step and grin as wide as the grand canyon. He had finally broke his duck after six months of bereavement over the loss of his childhood sweet heart ‘Helen of Roman close’. Arthur was in love again, only this time he wasn’t going to spend a hundred pounds on a fancy ring, well not yet. The happiness of a summer romance was in the air and the two pals felt high on life. The following day Albert and Arthur spent wooing their new acquaintances and that night planned an evening at the Old Vic followed by a night on the nest. Everything was perfect until Arthur’s bit of crumpet Doreen disappeared, after much searching and frustration Arthur demanded that Daphne should go and hunt out her friend. Daphne was very shy but with considerable coasting from Albert, she left in search of her friend. Ten minutes later she returned only to witness her friend Doreen hanging on for dear life as the passenger on the back of a speeding Triumph hurtling up the road like a bat out of hell.

Had Doreen be kidnapped by some evil outlaw biker or had she just found another man to buy her drinks all night with a bigger dick . Poor Arthur was heart broken so much so he had to headbutt the nearest wall fifty times until he was unconscious. Albert felt sorry for his faithful pal but quite relieved that he himself not been dumped in such an ungracious fashion right outside the Old Vic in front of all them welsh mongs.

It was sad end to the night and not many words were spoken on the way back to the campsite. Albert kissed Daphne goodnight in the silohoulette of a full moon while his pal looked on with a glum face. The two friends then walked back to their tent were Arthur spent the rest of the night cursing Doreen to a life of misery for being a cock happy slag.