The M.M.B.C Old Goats

This Thursday will be the last of the rides starting from Laxey and so to mark this auspicious occasion the legendary Lamby has arranged a spot of curry & chips afterwards in the Queens. The ride will start at 6:30 from Laxey Fire Station at the end of Ham & Egg Terrace.

In a rare and intimate interview with the founder of Mad Dog Expeditions Ltd, the organisers of the event, it was revealed that “all are welcome”.

Please let Mad Dog know if youre able to attend so he can get some spuds dug up from some poor old buggers allotment while they’re asleep. He can be reached on 495447. He has requested that you dont sell this number to the paparazzi.

PS: The weather forecast is shit. Bring a brolly.

Well, it wasnt an epic by any stretch of the solvent abused imagination, but a slow gentle ride in the countyside was what we wanted and we got just that.

A crackin evening weather-wise and 6 Slow Goats made the trek from Archie carpark to the top of Peel Hill. Unfortunately for 5 of us, Disaster Man Cooper was leading the way up and took us up a track so steep you could lean your bike against it. We spotted a visibly dispondant and clearly breathless Sir Ranulph Feinnes halfway up scratching his head with his remaining fingers and we just knew we were in trouble. Once we’d conquered the summit and hung around for a few minutes in the cool breeze listening to Neils arse chorus, we knew it was time to head downwards. Stupidly we hadnt learned from our earlier mistake and let the Disaster Man lead us down again. He nearly made it to Glen Maye before he heard our whistles to let him know we were turning off towards the Raggatt. Estate agents are all the bloody same.

It was my bike that heralded an early night once its drivetrain became deceased (or maybe it was the riders legs), alas after a couple of technicals and a blast round Archies finest singletrack our early finish became a ‘gone 10.20′ by the time we got back to the deceptively spacious Berlingo for a mammoth cake scoffing competition that Fiona won hands down. We can only put her appetite down to creosote inhillation.

The Last of the Summer Wine chapter of the Old Goats were (INPO): The completely covered in shit despite having mudguards - Fiona, The legendary Mad Manx Cow, the rather smelly Thunder Pants, The bizarrely accented Lancashire Lad, the completely Disasterous Disaster man and that good looking bloke who doesnt look after his bike properly - Bonz.

Same time next week (but we wont let Nick lead) in Archallaghan carpark for a slow paced ponder, or Laxey’s the place for a more rapid workout. Take your pick.

….listening to The Swell Season - Strict Joy.

Me? Ive just soiled me grundies watching it.

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