The Motorhome Craic Story

A recap on the story so far.....

Once upon a time there were three vans parked on the edge of a boiling volcano, when suddenly, there was a tiny explosion that seemed to erupt from the rather full toilet which no amount of chemicals could hold in. Suddenly there appeared a winning lottery ticket, I won’t touch that with a barge pole
All at once it came to us, the sound of 1000 motorhomes parking side by what a perfect sound. Nah, not for me, but then I thought, who might be there? Could there possibly be a large group of rubber gloved lotto cleaners up to their elbows in thick green gunge?
By the rivers of Babylon where I lay soaking up the sun without any sun cream, which very nearly burnt my well rounded butt. Ernut squash which I think tastes delicious, sober for a change, I tried to get past the very large bunch of pips. The most weird fancy-dressed woman we had ever seen, was showing all of her enormous hidden chimneys. I cleaned the posh ladies house, who had friends which were all imaginary, but real in her mind.
Christmas was almost here. In 37 days it’s the end of the Long cold dark nights when a red nosed reindeer Jumped into my bed of roses under the arm pit of the big fat bird that the family bought for keeping the husband in bed with a huge hangover caused by drinking to many strong shots of the unicorn juice. That’s soooooo last season. In its current inebriate state he was more potent than a Christmas plum pudding in a bushmills vat. Bushmills charge VAT. That taxman will always take the fun out of the festivities enjoyed by all the little craicers, who were looking forward to the continental market in Belfast.
All the crazy people spend far too much on motorhome accessories and sparkly unnecessary things they don’t need. But ultimately must have, after all it’s only the kids inheritance, let them get jobs.
The lazy Santa helpers decided to peel back another layer of wrapping paper, with trembling little fingers they were hoping for an exceptionally new shinny motorhome with all of the deranged aunties and uncles who generally smell of boiling battery gas. It was time to take their medication before the wee men turned into zombies and got the munches for Ally’s famous Angus Burgers, that were so tasty, but on the small side with loads of onions.
For a family that were not related to anyone in particular, were amazed at each other’s looks. They went to the furthest flung reaches of the campsite, that most folk don’t park on. Because Easter and all those limited pub opening hours. And the fat controller farts and he wasn’t joking when he said the aire will be difficult to breath and drink at the same time. We could also use a nice free bar of fruit’n’nut chocolate