The same people are going to come up again and again in these posts this is a bit of a pen portrait of each of them, obviously I’m not using their real names to protect the guilty, though they would probably say they are the victims of my friendship.

If you don’t recognise yourself in one of these characters, that is probably a good thing and don’t be offended, these are the ones that came to mind at the start, I’m sure it will expand.

The Crew

Wooksie – my best friend in the world, mentor, tormentor and wife who insists she is burned out and broken and can’t take much more fun and holidays – luckily she is a good few years younger than me so still has some life left in her.

Ugly bloke – I met him when I first moved to Bristol in 1997 and become a wonderful friend for most of the time anyway. He has completely the opposite personality to me, he is is totally organised with a diary stretching out years, my diary is full of incorrect dates and I always forget to check it. I discovered he was taking notes with the intention of writing a book using my exploits so I’ve got in first as he would make me look like an idiot. To be honest he isn’t that ugly, but he called me Ugly Bloke 27 years ago, I turned it back on him and it stuck, so a friend ever since despite the fact he supports Bristol City.

The Apprentice, he has been my friend since I took him under my wing on a football tour to Ireland (his first trip abroad) and was in a room share with me and Big Joe, he had quite an education and after that trip in 1987 he has followed me around all over the place.

The Chemist I first met him through work and we got on immediately, true kindred spirits of chaos. Another surfer, mountain biker and snowboarder (till he shattered his shoulder), has an amazing ability to convince himself the most dangerous exploit is quite safe and is amazed when he hurts himself again. As he once said “I love nights out with you, i have no idea what will happen”, that’s mutual and in fact after the nights out we rarely knew what had happened. He is called the Chemist because he always carries numerous numerous potions with him and most of them legal so a good source of recreation.

The Matrix – another work colleague that has survived the distance. Called the Matrix because he is a technical genius, whenever we go away we come armed with a personal portfolio of technology gizmos and cables that are presumably designed to be useful, but as most of our adventures happen when we are in no fit state, the technology is rarely used, or leaves us confused when we do try to use it. He specialises in growing his own very hot chillis and collecting/drinking obscure alcholic beverages.

Cardboard Rotter we met at school when we were 11, and didn’t really get on, he was in a different class and from the other side of Plymouth but we ended up on the same camping holiday in Newquay when we were 19 through different contacts and then came the realisation that neither of us had an off switch or limits to how far we would go in the quest of fun. That rollercoaster lasted 3 years before I fell off and ended up married, but still best friends and he founded our Alan Whicker Society, a vehicle for chaos and mayhem on every night out when we were young. The name is a play on his double barreled surname, one of the funniest things Jonesy ever came up with.

Mr Blowey a character that entered by life via the Cardboard Rotter, he been a source of hilarity, chaos and utter carnage. Often referred to by others as a sociopath, I’m not sure how he has endured as there is a continual threat of danger and discourse when he is around not to mention being out of pocket, but some of the memories are the most enduring, or maybe it’s just PTSD, called Mr Blowey because he huffs and puffs a lot when he isn’t happy, bit like Popeye.

The Mechanic is a friend I made through the weight loss at Man V Fat. We have a lot in common in terms of our love of cars, mountain biking and snowboarding, well he is a skier actually but I don’t hold that against him. He has a few annoying characteristics apart from supporting Bristol Rovers, the main one is that whatever we do, he belts off into the distance and gets lost because he doesn’t know the route and doesn’t check the signs. I used to spend hours looking for him but now I’ve got him on “Find my Iphone” so at least I know where the silly bugger has ended up. When I catch him up, we have lots of conversations like “You decided not to do the red then”, and he will say “What red”, at which point I sigh and say, “Exactly”.,