We kicked off the day at a spot where we were told we weren’t likely to get even 2 tries. After politely approaching each shop keeper we managed to wangle a frantic session. Until the barber kicked off and the police came to poop on our parade. Better that than we get jacked for all our camera gear, which due to all the ghetto spectators that were amassing, felt like it was imminent.
Pete beaners to fakie on the point of a Giger Alien egg.
And squeezes a wee backside grab over the hip out too.
Everybody was at it. Murl was the last one to roll away before the 5-0 brought the beef.
A familiar scene over the next 5 days, well, maybe with more booze and less reading.
About time for some messing around. High speed butt slides…
So it was on to another. Sam doesn’t ever stop skating.
Until there’s vin rouge and fromage on the go. Well he is French.
Whilst in the Germanic/Finnish corner it’s all corn chips, ice creams and wife beater. Cat-piss!