After my successful first date with the mysterious woman I thought it prudent that I arrange a second date in the hope that I’d at least mount her this time round. I’d not contemplated mounting her on the first date. I draw the line at doing such things in front of Booger. I arranged to meet her the following weekend back down in Southampton expecting to at least get to first base with her. I invited my Director of Operations to come down in the hope we could get a bit of a threesome going. Mr Zed and I go a long way back and he’s married so doesn’t get laid anyway so thought I would reward him with a bit of tag-teaming.
“Dude, you’re not getting laid either. Remember that time you decided to join Tinder?”
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
The first time I met my date she was holding a lot of water at the back and the plan of action for the day was to at least de-moisten her. Some may say I’m pretty good at this sort of thing on dates. Anyway, I spent the first hour of the day using a jug to bale out the water. As the water level dropped two little drainage holes became visible. I assumed that they were some sort of drains so poked my finger into one of the holes and wriggled that finger around like a horny teenager. Whatever was blocking the hole had dislodged itself and the water drained out rather speedily. Again, not the first time I’ve fingered a date and she’s dried out. If only I’d known about those drainage holes at the start.
Once the water had drained from the back end of the boat it was easier to get a better look inside the cabin. Alas that too was under water, Almost two feet deep. When I first saw the boat it looked like she was already in a relationship with a tramp. There was what looked to be fetid mattresses and a handy roll of toilet paper in a storage area. I started hand baling the water again but before long Mr Zed suggested we try and siphon out the water with a hose I’d found lying around. Trust him to ask me to suck on a pipe. That worked quite well. In fact it worked fucking wonders and before long the water level was dropping quicker than a queer thrown off of a building in the middle-east.
Once the level of water had dropped significantly I made my way in and the cabin proved to be a veritable trove of treasures. We found:
- Kettle
- Kitchen sink
- Sails
- Knives
- Forks
- Sun cream
- Headache tablets
- Paddle
- Spiders
- Handles for winches
The good thing about the boat holding water so well is that it means there are no leaks.
There’s nothing worse than going down on a bird and finding she has klingons. Not glamorous at all. To save my date from embarrassment we decided we’d scrape her bottom with a paint scraper and a de-icer tool I’d salvaged from my car. You can definitely see a marked improvement in her derriere. We stumbled on to a bit of good news whilst scraping her down. The hole that I thought was in the hull isn’t actually a hole, it’s drainage for the anchor locker.
Throughout the grooming session we were being watched by a couple of boatyard employees who chimed in now and again. Apparently the most valuable piece of advice they could proffer was:
If it floats, flies or fucks rent it.
I keep hearing about how having a boat is akin to standing in a shower with a wad of £20 notes. So far all it’s taken is a bit of elbow-grease and a visit to the pub.
I still don’t know her name. Damnit!