All Guts, No Glory Vol. II
Firstly, I'd like to say thank you. Thank you to the 192 visitors to my blog within the first seven days of publishing! I can't believe it's been seen that many times already and the comments I've received have been overwhelming.
So, to continue the anecdotes, (or analdotes as a good friend quipped at me the other day), I previously mentioned Egypt as being the first time I experienced severe problems with my intestinal malfunctions. This, however, is not the case. It was the first time it happened while I had slept but there was an incident previously the very same year.
I spoke briefly about my time in Hull at a holiday campsite where I was an entertainer. It was the first placement I had received before heading abroad. The campsite was nice enough and the staff were lovely, all showing that Northern hospitality they're so well known for up the road. My van-mate, Rob, who was also our techie, was a great laugh and we had a lot in common which led to many hilarious moments, us binge watching the first season of Game of Thrones together and him trying to teach me how to walk on sprung stilts. I have very fond memories of the old 70s style caravan we were in. It came complete with all the mod-cons: a leaky roof above the shower, a window that didn't shut properly, the ability to sway with 80mph winds and amazingly not collapse, a smell that was so deep set in the furniture, (by furniture I mean an 'L' shaped ottoman with a cushioned lid), that would never leave and was not attributed to my bowels and spiders that had lived there seemingly since it had been placed on its cement plot. One particular memory includes me talking to some liquorice comfits after a night spent with some guests and Captain Morgan. I would place the video here purely because Rob requested it and sent it to me the other day but it's only available on Facebook and I can't get hold of it, sorry.
Now, back to the story at hand. This camp site had a few issues, one being our entertainment manager who had visions of grandeur. He was always acting above his station and had a tendency to throw child like tantrums if he didn't get his way. He was slightly younger than myself and Rob but was a bit of a downright bully. Manipulation was his weapon of choice and he even led a campaign to smear the name of one of the team members early on, to the point where she left and we all believed she was a bad person and a lazy worker. It wasn't until he tried to do it again to another member of the team that we realised he was just a nasty piece of work. He even went as far as to separate my day off from Rob's in some strange fit of jealousy... By the end of the season we had all had enough.
One evening while onstage, I knew I wasn't feeling well. I had a feeling that my sugar levels were off and I shouted across to him during our obligatory routine to "Do You Wanna Be A Superhero", a dance for the younger audience members before the nights entertainment actually began. I asked if I could go backstage and check my bloods, his response was a 'no' with a look that would've been more appropriate had I asked to touch his nipples. Needless to say, I then proceeded to collapse just at the side of the stage. I remember waking up in A&E later that evening after a member of the audience, who happened to be a doctor, called 999.
This had all occurred around the same time that I'd been asked to transfer to Egypt to help out with the end of their season. My manager then decided to take it upon himself to inform the agency that I wasn't looking after myself and wasn't fit to go to Egypt but if they needed anyone else, he would gladly go. Snake.
Don't underestimate the stupidity of some people though.
He had this phone conversation on loudspeaker in his car with none other than my van-mate, Rob sat next to him. Who then sent me a txt informing me of what had just happened. Or so he thought... get ready to cringe reader because here it comes; he'd sent it to our manager! Yes, the ultimate betrayal that inevitably brought downfall to Rob via having to work longer shifts, not getting days off when requested and general churlish insults and silent treatment, had been committed. We found it hilarious however and I did in fact receive a phone call from the agency telling me to rest up and get better soon as they were still definitely sending me to Egypt. I wish I had the guts back then to say how I felt and to stand up for myself and the team more. I felt bad, almost how a soldier would have felt being sent home with a gunshot wound to the foot and leaving his buddies behind to face the enemy. But I got over it soon after landing in Sharm El Sheikh!
My family came to visit me in Hull one week for a getaway
and they had two of the top line caravan's on site to stay in. I got an extra day off to spend with them and we saw the sites of the East Ridings of Yorkshire.
This included an excellent night out with the entertainment, lifeguard and bar teams. We all had the obligatory kebab and chips with chip spice, (a Hull delicacy), and got a lift home from a regular visitor to the site who also owned his own 7-seat taxi. A colossus of a man, tattooed from head to toe with large tunnel piercings in his ears. He struck a foreboding shadow but was one of the most genuinely nice guys I ever had the privilege of knowing. His whole family were great, as were many others I met during my time there. You build a rapport with guests and if they're returners then that bond becomes somewhat of a lasting friendship. I even saw a family from Hull at the same hotel I was working at in Egypt the following year! Small world.
It's not, it's huge... weird saying.
Anyway, on the way home I could feel the urge coming and the sweats starting. My sphincter was clenching tighter than a miser to his last penny. So much so that it was actually twitching. Not the last time I'd experience that but definitely the first! I was gripping my seat belt, unbuttoning my trousers, doing anything I could to ease the pressure and take my mind off the impending doom that was about to befall my pants and Charlie's recently valeted seats. We pulled up to the site and I started to cautiously move toward the closest van, being my brothers'. They think I was closer to my own however but this wouldn't have mattered as when we approached the turning to where their van was situated, amongst five others, I felt my bowels give a final push. The enemy were at the gates and my defences had broken! I fumbled to undo my trousers as I exclaimed "Oh god! It's coming, I'm going!" I performed a semi-squat and with zero time to prepare for the inevitable onslaught, the road took the full force of my stomach content.
My brothers both ran past me, almost crying with laughter and disgust as they opened their van to let me in. Now, I'm not sure how it works for women but when a guy goes for a number two, number one seems to get FOMO, (fear of missing out), and joins the party. In my haste however I had not anticipated this. So while I had shat on the floor, I had pissed in my pants. It was a travesty and a sorry state of affairs to say the least. I cleaned myself up as best I could in my brothers' van and headed back to mine where I was greeted by Rob who asked "What's up with you?" To which I replied "I've shit on the road and pissed myself. I'm having a shower and going to bed." He just looked at me bewildered for a second before bursting into laughter.
The next morning, I met my family for breakfast and my brothers, Pip & Andrew, both grinned at me and giggled. My parents asked what was going on and they both gladly recreated the situation from the night before in between fits of laughter and my parents' tutting and grimaced looks.
Then, however, they regaled in following up this story with that mornings' events. Apparently when they had awoken, they spotted one of the groundskeepers, shovel in hand, mumbling to himself and shaking his head as he scooped up what I hope he assumed was dog faeces.
I'm sorry Bob. Really, I am.
I hope you've enjoyed this one, I know I enjoy remembering and retelling them for you. Don't forget to subscribe and please share on all social media. You never know, someone might be in desperate need of a pick-me-up.
Thanks for reading,
Matt.