A collection of somewhat odd tales from the famed A.A.F Mansion...

Part 1: The start of the saga

(in which a post mid-thread on the newsgroup spawns what would become a legend in it's own lunchtime)

Paul's post (content in red) replying to a post from The Funkraum (blue):

funkraum wrote:
Mind's eye drifts away to ...

... picture of Paul's 308 on tour in East Afrika, after exhausting all sources of obscure Medieval villages on the Eurasian continent: A huge
pair of bamboo poles lashed lengthways down the side, below which teams of native bearers toil to transport Duffin Sahib atop the 308
through the endless sea of elephant grass.

'Yes the elephant grass was so high that we it kept brushing the spolier...and after the thirty-fourth consecutive evening of failing
to find even a three-star hotel, I feared we might have to return to Zanzibar...'

Stop! stop! I'm in tears!

'Fender' is the wing. And this is a peculiarly French habit. Very occasionally I return the favour, while approaching at 50mph over
their speed with full-beam on and letting the car tram-line right and left as if I am about to lock'em up. It's just a friendly way of
saying (Accent=Prince Charles) "Beggin' one's pardon but one appears to be in one's lane and would one mind moving one over ?"

Try it in Italy and see what happens...

OK - don't try this at home folks - but a friend of a friend I once knew does this occasionally (and it has to be done with extreme care -
errr - I am told), but if you are in a draft and get someone bobbing up and down in your mirror sitting on your tail at 85mph or
thereabouts, without moving your shoulders so as to give it away, just dip the clutch slightly and -gently- apply handbrake until you feel
the car 'hog-up'. Dipstick behind you will not have the benefit of your brake lights and will go for the brake in a cold-sweat panic. I
am told that they never fail to get the message after this.

(Just by way of emphasis: If you do try this and get it wrong, you will die).

DON'T try this in Italy!!!!

> >Oh the joys of having no ground clearance.

[Strained facial expression as attempts to think of a way of telling Paul ...]

You'know Paul there are other marques, with many similarities to Ferraris, which don't have the same problems with ground clearance,
and are almost as much fun for touring.

[Looks surprised, but with growing concern]
Err, Are you feeling O.K. Funkraum?

[Places hand around Paul's shoulder and leads him to the French windows in order to motion expansively into the wide future]

[tries to free himself from grip, but Funkraum's hold is vice-like as his eyes take on the glazed look of a mad-man, Paul looks nervously around]

Err... Nurse! Nurse! Quick! the medication!

[Attractive young woman, scantily clad as a 'nurse' appears carrying two Pimms, casually hands one to Funkraum]

No! for god's sake - the *medication* !!

Yes there is one which has the same electrical reliability, the same comfort in the seating arrangements, has
sixteen-inch wheels, and gearbox and clutch from the same or similar agricultural manufacturer. And yet has -none- of the ground clearance
problems.

[turns to Paul and nods in order to get him to do the same]

Yes: They are called Landrovers. [keeps nodding in spite of Paul's blank, horrified, look]

[Nurse returns at the trot, accompanied by two BIG male nurses in white jackets]

Yes - you can happily bounce down tiny French roads which even pack mules would have difficulty negotiating - and there is no fear of ever
grounding the spoiler.

[Paul nods in panic at the male nurses and then at Funkraum]

[Biggest nurse] There some trouble here, Mr Duffin?
[Paul, in theatrical hiss] get him off me! get him off me!

Landrovers: The ideal complimentary vehicle for any 308 owner.

[The nurses make their move. There is a crash as the Pimms hits the floor]

[Funkraum] Landrovers, I tell you! Landrovers!... Hey, what are you doing?
[Big nurse] Just a small injection, Mr F, no need to worry..
[Funkraum] What? But I... [slumps]
[Big nurse] You O.K. Mr Duffin?
[Paul, angrily] I've told you before! I don't want him wandering around
the building without at least one of you two idiots holding on to him!
Jesus - what do I pay you for?! [turns to skimpily clad female 'nurse']
And you! what the hell was that routine with Pimms? - [points at Funkraum's motionless body] I suppose *he* told you that was alright,
did he? Get out! and put some damn clothes on! Right, you two put him back in his room, and this time, keep him locked in, OK? If this happens
again, you're both fired - clear?