Jugsters Mcc

The Wedding of Sioned and Alex 


The Wedding of Sioned & Alex  18/06/ 2011


As recounted by Russ.


Whilst the majority of the Jugsters who went to the wedding were all sitting outside the Bulls Head carvery in Thringstone, after a bosting breakfast to help recover from the wedding reception/ pub/party the night before. It was jokingly suggested to me by our illustrious Chairman that, seeing as there’s every chance that I’m going to be sitting around for a while with an awful lot of spare time on my hands; maybe I’d like to slip on the mantle of club biographer once more. Well, I started thinking about it when I was waiting to be seen in the Leicester Royal Accident and emergency department, (I’ll explain what happened later,) and thought, ‘‘fuck it yeah, why not!’’ so here goes.


The day of the wedding started at a civilized hour, (08.00) when I got the Groom up with a brew, he’d stopped at my house the night before. Whilst Alex, Danny and I where sitting around enjoying a civilized first brew of the day, we discussed the plan of action and chilled. After about an hour, the peace and quiet was shattered by the sound of the ‘Tartan Terror’ charging down the stairs demanding tea with menaces. She then promptly switched on the computer, logged onto facebook and went ballistic!

‘‘Fuckin, bollockin’ shit! That fuckin’ lazy wee bastard, (our Johnann, who lives with hubby Will & the kids in Cambridge,) has overslept, (pot calling kettle, come in kettle,) and is running fucking late, we’ll never get the f**kin’ food done in time!’’ and with that, grabbed her coat, fags and keys and shot out the door, chuntering and cursing as only she can, jumped in the car, reversed out of the drive, handbrake turned and fucked off up the street at warp speed! We three looked at each other laughed and decided on another brew.

 At about 10.00, the first of the Jugsters arrived, this being, (not surprisingly, seeing as they only live about 3 miles away,) Dave and Gill.(well, in saying that, Bungle didn’t make it here at all, and he used to live next fucking door!) they were followed about a half hour later by Jo, Will & the kids. After a quick lesson on the video camera, (Will had been ‘persuaded’ to be a cameraman for the day,) he then shot off to drop the kids off with the grandparents. Whilst Jo went to get changed, we all had another brew, then Alex and I got Shaz’s & Jo’s bikes out of the garage. (Yes, the little fucker is STILL lodging her bike at mine, I’m gonna start charging her rent!)

By the time Will had returned, Jo had finished playing silly buggers in the bathroom, and Alex could go and get himself ready. As soon as we could hear the bath taps running, (three baths in one week, Sioned; you are a guiding influence,) I got on with my final gift to the lad and polished then doctored his shoes. (More about that later!)

 At about 12.15 and with perfect timing, seeing as the Burco boiler that Shaz had borrowed from work was ready, Claude appeared, having timed his ride from his house to mine between the rain showers perfectly. By the time he’d got a brew in his hand, Shaz reappeared, closely followed by Tim & Naz, which is always good for a laugh. Naz jumped off and shot into the house to get out of her waterproofs off and down a cuppa whilst we all stood around and pissed ourselves for a bit, (Naz included,) at the sight of Tim doing a 24 point turn on that fucking unwieldy, ill handling monstrosity he calls a bike, just to get it up the drive.

 Once Tim had got the cement mixer parked, and, after ten minutes, finally switched off, (obviously, cos he loves the sound of the fucking thing, he starts it on a rally Sunday as soon as the first tent peg is pulled and is still the last fucker packed!!!!) the normal tranquillity of the street returned,  well, apart from the sound of Tim struggling to unload his and Naz’s sleeping kit, this allowed us to hear the imminent approach of the Nuneaton contingent, ably led by Obergruppenfuhrer Steele which pulled up a minute or so later.

Surprisingly enough, they had managed to get to Whitwick without any fuck ups, (a first,) and pulled up in a loosely formed gaggle out on the road out front where the usual ‘post ride banter’ as they unloaded their kit ensued. All you could here were cries of ‘’fackin’rain’’ ‘‘get the kettle on’’ ‘‘you cut me up you twat’’, ‘‘well, you ride like a twat’’ ‘‘Bag’s the sofa’’ and, from those who hadn’t been to Chez Williamson before, ‘‘Where’s the bog?’’

 I’ll tell you, that sure as shit got the neighbours curtains twitching, with 20+ bikes scattered all over the drive, the front, and up and down the street,  they must have thought they were being invaded! The last of our procession arrived but a short while later. Poor Max got caught in a downpour and the girl was drenched to the skin.

 Now, the plan was that we were going to set off from mine, with Shaz sitting backwards on Churchill’s trike, to film this rolling catastrophe in the making on its way to the church via the Vic. In doing this it meant that Shaz was the spare rider, so that Alex could ride to the church on his bike, and I could bring it back for him whilst he went with his bride in the wedding car. This left us the slight problem of which bike I was riding to the church?

Yup, you guessed it, I got saddled with ‘the Pan Galactic ditch pump’ (her SV 650,) with the grave warning; ‘‘if you thrash my bike you fat bastard, I’m gonna kick your bollocks off!’’ - as if I could/would? We were in a wedding procession, what possible chance would I have? (mwua, hur hur, tee hee!)

 As planned, we set off from the house, trike up front, Alex and I second & third, followed by the rest. For the first time ever, the Jugsters made it out of the estate where I live without a hiccup, (well, apart from Steely attempting to run down one of the neighbours, on the pavement,) and headed into Whitwick after Herr Steele had blocked the traffic. (Well done pard, you managed it without picking on an under cover Skoda cop car this time!!!!) At the first roundabout though, the fuck up fairy showed that she’d had an invite as well!

Churchill, who, at the best of times, has all the directional awareness if a drugged tree sloth, asked Shaz for directions. Shaz, who, at the best of times cannot figure out her left from her right, was sitting backwards told him ‘‘right’’ (meaning her right,) when we wanted to turn left. So, the trike went one way, we went the other, and then pulled over to wait for them!

 After we had it all sorted and we were back in some semblance of order, we had a quick pow-wow and decided that, on top of my duties as best man, I was gonna have to give Steely a hand in policing the procession as well, seeing as no fucker else knew where we were going! Unfortunately, this meant that I was gonna have to block junctions with that oh so delinquent neo Nazi, get everyone past, then have to race past them all to the next junction and do it all again. (Oops, sorry dear, thrash time, hee hee hee !!!)


We negotiated the next two roundabouts to the Vic without any incident, to have a quick smoke, (and a pint for some of the posse,) whilst waited there for the rest of Alex’s ride-out guests. After15 minutes, with no sign of them, we set off once more, only to see them coming the other way, after a shouted instruction to ‘join on at the back’ we continued onwards, through the middle of Coalville and down through Hugglescote and Ellistown, heading towards Ibstock. Believe it or not, we got to the church in one group, though it did involve an awful lot of Steely and I having to weave and thrash our way up past the pack to the next junction, with me hammering her SV for all it was worth, with the wife waving and shouting encouragement at me every time I passed her. (Well, I thought that’s what she was doing at the time!)

 Even with all of the considerable efforts of myself, Herr Steele and Shaz’s bike, the fuck-up fairy still had another say in what happened, Churchill and Shaz still managed to do a ‘fly-by’ of the church when we turned in, though She tried to claim later that it was so as she could film us all as we entered! (A nice try dear, but, of course, complete bollocks!) Not that it mattered, as Will; (camera 2,) was stood there to film Alex’s grand entrance anyway, and he filmed this rolling two wheeled cavalcade of clowns as it bumped and weaved it’s way through the gates onto the church drive, it looked like we were back on the dodgems at the sand dancers rally!

 Needless to say, and in typical Jugsters style, the formation parking was up to its usual standard, it would have looked neater if we’d dropped them there out of the back of a plane! As I rode in and parked up after the final blocking task at the turn in to the church, I had the piss taken out of me by the lads with cries too many to mention along the lines of; ‘‘Oi pard, you’ve got something stuck in the crack of your arse, oh sorry it’s Shaz’s bike!’’ ‘‘is that a krack-a-zaki’’ and ‘‘I didn’t realize a mini-moto went that fast bud’’ It was about that time that Shaz arrived after hers and Churchill’s ‘fly-by’ and immediately thumped me and kneed me in the knackers for abusing her bike!

 Whilst I was attempting to get my breath back and everyone was laughing, Alex pointed out that there was no way that some of the cars were gonna get down the drive. So without too much trouble, but an awful lot of shouting, we managed to herd the bikes into some semblance of order and not totally blocking all access. As soon as everyone had parked up, and much to the shock of the other, non Jugster guests in the wedding party, the bottles and hip flasks started doing the rounds, (well, it would have been rude not to invite Jack, Jim, and Vladovar to the wedding as well wouldn’t it, they’re as much a part of the Jugsters as the fuck-up fairy is!)

 While the boys and girls were passing round the bottles and flasks and generally having a bit of a laugh, and I was sorting out a few little details with Alex and the photographer, (his sister Sophie,) it suddenly became clear to the club why the driveway needed to be kept clear, Ian & Sue, Alex’s mum & Dad arrived with the majority of the rest of Alex’s siblings bundled into the back of his (monster) pick-up truck and the rest of the White clan following behind. That truck is so fucking big he wouldn’t have even noticed driving over most of the bikes, Tim’s cement mixer excepted.

 Once they had parked, Alex introduced them all, (both parents and the six kids that were present to the club members who didn’t know them,) whilst Alex, Ricky and I stood back and awaited the fireworks!  Once the introductions where over, mister charm, tact & diplomacy himself, (yup, Steely,) decided to ‘break the ice’ and piped up in his own unique and understated way, ‘‘8 fackin’ kids! Aint you got a fackin’ telly in your house?’’ (Says fucking him!!!!!!)

This drove me to find Crip and our mate Jack again cos I was half expecting Sue, who, as the mother of the Groom, was on a bit of an emotional tight-rope to say the least, to possibly throttle him! Ian, Alex’s long suffering dad, just burst out laughing and opened up the boot of his truck to give us all somewhere to safely store the helmets whilst we were in church.

 As this little ‘getting-to-know-you session’ was getting going, members of the brides’ family and friends were arriving. We could tell that these were ‘with the away team’ by the looks of shock on their faces. (Alex’s family gave up being shocked or surprised by his behaviour and choice of company years ago!)  Using the arrival of the brides’ mother as a cue to the impending arrival of the wedding car, and seeing as it was about 2.15; we started herding the guests into the church.

Now, as I had the honour of being best man, I wasn’t sitting at the back with the rest of the reprobates, so I can only recount what happened back there as it was told to me, though I can vouch for this bit.


They all behaved themselves as Sioned,  her son who was giving her away and the bridesmaids arrived and entered the church, though someone had to yorp out ‘’Hiya Smurf,’’as she walked past. Sioned and all 3 of the bridesmaids looked fantastic and everyone commented so afterwards.

As we cracked into the first hymn, Steely got himself some religion and threw his heart into the one- ‘Amazing Grace’ I know this to be true cos I could hear his dulcet tones all the way up at the front!!! I’m not saying he was bad, but what he lacked in talent, he made up for in enthusiasm, and I actually believe he invented a few new notes!!!

Whilst silly bollocks was singing away to his hearts content, Crip & the rest were laughing their arses off! It is actually on video, pard giving it the bollocks, Crip crying with laughter & the rest giggling away too! In the end, Dinky took his glasses off him so he couldn’t read the words.

Then there were a few funny looks being sent their way too from the church wardens when ‘Jack’ did a trip round the Jugsters contingent. Oh, by the way, it was about this time that Bungle and Anita turned up, (typical Bungle really.)

When the vicar called for ‘‘anyone with good reason why these to should not be married, you just knew someone was gonna do something daft. There was a loud cough, then an even louder oochya, when Dinky thumped her hubby in the bollocks.

 The Vicar had also made another grave mistake when she invited the congregation to join in at the part where the vows are stated, she wanted all to say ‘’We will’’ but what she got was; ‘’ yup’’ ‘right-ee-ho pard’’ and ‘‘who’s got the whiskey?’’ from our lot.

The vicar then did a reading and when she got to a bit about water flowing and ebbing- the heavens opened with a massive deluge, causing all to laugh, at which point the vicar proudly announced that we need not worry, as the roof had been recently repaired. This caused yet another laugh from the congregation. But not as hard as our lot, as the roof started leaking, right on top of Wiggy! He had to move to another seat and they replaced him with a bucket. (A fair swap really!)

 The next bit was the religious bit, where Alex and Sioned had to kneel down. As soon as they did, the church erupted into fits of laughter as they saw what I’d done to his shoes. Whilst bugger-lugs had been in the bathroom getting his shit together, earlier on in the morning, I had carefully written in tippex, on the instep of his shoes were the words ‘HELP ME’ and it could only be read in the kneeling position. (Well, you didn’t expect me to the only one to behave did ya?) The next bit was the exchanging of rings, once that was over, I only had one more bit to do, which was a reading that Sioned had sprung on me on the Wednesday before.

 The next hymn was sung just as badly as the first by his nibs, causing even more laughter from our lot, and prompting one of the church wardens to finally lose her patience and say; ‘‘Do you mind, this is the house of the Lord you know.’’ Causing Shaz to reply, ‘‘Well tell him he was done over, cos the roof still fackin leaks’’ With that out of the way, it was my last bit, which was a poem that Sioned had dedicated to Alex. Once I had read that, the vicar did the final blessing, pronounced them man and wife and they got a round of massive round of applause and cheering and whistling from the Jugster contigent. Even the civvies joined in- reluctantly at first, but then warmed to the atmosphere.

We then buggered off up to the front to do the register signing bit and to have some photo’s taken, once that was done, we all trooped outside for the photo’s. By buggery it was draughty, and Sioned and the bridesmaids were freezing so, once everyone was out, they shot back inside to have the photo’s done in the church instead. Needless to say, whilst this was going on, the beer & tea that the Jugsters had consumed was taking effect so quite a few nipped round the back of the church to take a leak, safely out of the way of prying eyes, or so they thought, but not safe from Gill and her bloody camera!

 Once the photo’s were done, the other guests started making their way past our lot, who were still hitting the flasks, to their cars for a quick get away back to Coalville for the reception. Not us though, oh no, we were going to be the guard of honour for the wedding car! Once I had broken this little bit of news to them, and they realized that they weren’t going to be first in the bar they were almost inconsolable, and the flasks made another round while they were getting suited & booted for the ride back.

And they were upset!!!

I was stuck with the job of riding Alex’s bike as there was no fucking chance of me riding my darlings’ machine home, or ever again by the looks of it! As the club are aware, but you, dear reader may not be, our Alex builds his bikes to suit his tastes, which are along the lines of an evil, home made, built to an e-bay budget street fighter with an on/off switch for a throttle. So riding the fucking things he builds is always eventful, and I speak from previous experience.

Once the car started moving, Steely shot out to block the road whilst Shaz back on her darling SV and me in wrestling with  Alex’s monstrosity formed up as the outriders with the rest following on behind. The ride to the reception was pretty uneventful. Except for Jo-Jo going in a bit too hot on the Ashby roundabout, and almost having to go down the bypass instead, (and you thought I wouldn’t find out eh Jo-Jo?) Apparently, some of the lads also formed up on Alex’s mum & dad in the pick up truck and gave them an escort too, which Sue informed me later was an enjoyable trip.

When we turned into the West End Club, where the reception was being held the car parked by the door and the club all pulled in round the back, dumped the bikes and charged for the bar, (apologies now for any children that were trampled!)

 Up until now, things had gone more or less ‘as expected’ (notice I didn’t say to plan,) but now the fuckers were in a bar, all expectations were right out of the window! The general scheme of things was, have a quick pint at the reception, then all saddle up and boogie on back to mine, put as many bikes as possible round the back, then barricade the rest & Churchill’s’ trike in with the works van. Once that little mission was accomplished, it was all into the pre-booked mini buses and back to the reception.

Well, a quick pint turned into ‘three or four’ so much so that the troops were grumbling about requiring food, so we planned to hit the local chippy on the way to mine.

Then the buffet was opened!

 FUCK ME! You’d think that they’d never been fed before! Within fifteen minutes there was absolutely nothing left and the idiots were getting into their stride on the boozing front. So, before they all got smashed, a decision was made to get the bikes back to our place and tucked up safe and sound. With a five minute warning as ‘supping up time’ they all reluctantly trooped out of the bar and started saddling up, well, except for Crip, who, in his mad dash for the bar had forgotten where he’d left his fucking helmet. Once Shaz had found Crip’s missing lid and dumped it on his head, with the final instruction to the whole lot of the idiots of ‘‘keep the fuckin’ noise and silly antics under control and act casual & stealthy like cos we’ve all had a beer or five,’’ we started up and pulled out. Big Dave had a smart idea and went his own sweet way home agreeing to meet us back there later, whist Ivan & Debs took off with Linda following their car as she wasn’t stopping and still hadn’t got a clue how to get home from the reception.

I set up a road block to get us out in one group and, well, I might as well have talked to the fucking pub door!

 The first one out was Obergruppenfuhrer Steele, with half a dozen wedding balloons and 3 tons of ribbons festooned upon his rack, hoiking a minging great wheelie, followed by the rest all trying to out do each other on the rolling burnout front! Off they went, following big, blonde & stoopid, straight through the middle of town, riding like the bunch of semi-pissed twats that they are, straight past the local cop shop! Luckily, the lights went to green as they were approaching them so they all wobbled through without really having to stop.

By the time I got to my house it looked like an explosion in a bike shop, the whole street jam packed and no fucker having a clue what to do. I weaved my way to the front, up the drive and stuffed Alex’s, Shaz’s & Jo-Jo’s bikes in the garage, then proceeded to get all the other bikes round the back. Five minutes work, mission accomplished, get the beers out, it was 5.30p.m. Mini buses ordered for 7.p.m.

The two mini buses and one car duly arrived at the appointed time and once we were all loaded, we buggered off back down to the reception.

There was a bit of a commotion as the buses/taxi pulled into the car park as every door flew open and the crew dived out in an attempt to be first to the bar. I’m telling you, it looked like a scene from the Normandy invasion beaches as this lot of Looneys jumped out and stormed the place! Once everyone was in and settled, (beers in hand,) the evenings entertainment began, (no, not Steely, the disco,) then it was time for the speeches.

Several people had been rather worried about this, but Alex and Sioned had decided to keep it informal, and, at the allotted time, Alex got up and on behalf of himself and his bride, thanked everyone for coming and then threw the mic at me!

 Now, several people had been asking as to the content of my speech, and had also tried to impose some restrictions/ guidelines, which were tantamount to ‘Moscow style censorship’ so, in Jugsters tradition, and in honour of the happy couples whole theme to the wedding which was ‘in Sioned’s words, ‘‘We’ll just go with the flow’’ I had, at an early date, decided to wing it, and I hadn’t written anything down.

This caused a moment of extreme panic in some quarters (Sue, Shaz, Sioned,) and a worried look in Alex’s eyes! But they needn’t have panicked, it all seemed to go well enough, no-one stormed out or threw anything at me at any rate, I spoke from the heart and I think I kept it reasonably clean too!

 Once that was over and done with, the normal behaviour then began- you know, lots of drinking and arsing about, Disco Dave was ‘strutting his funky stuff’ to ABBA yet again, and everyone seemed to have a good time. Some of the civvies even joined in with us on the dance floor! We also got into trouble with the bar staff as somehow, a couple of bottles had been inadvertently left in some handbags and coat pockets and were doing the rounds. When the bar staff complained, it was pointed out to them that if they wanted something done about it, they should feel free to attempt to confiscate them Needless to say, they didn’t attempt to do so.

  It was at about 10.15p.m when the Northern soul started playing and Shaz and I were, ‘cutting a rug’ when something went ‘twang’ in the back of my leg, and, the next step I took, I felt something tear, (not a nice sensation,) which was accompanied by an awful lot of swearing and hobbling about! Not thinking too much about it, and with the Taxi’s imminently arriving, we said our goodbyes and piled into the awaiting buses for the 2nd part of the evenings entertainments, next stop, the Rag & Mop! Ooops! The taxi firm fucked up & didn’t send enough cars, leaving Steely, Dinky & Crip stranded for about 10 minutes whilst they did a return trip!

 Michael & Sarah, the ever so congenial landlord and Landlady of my local, had kindly agreed to us lot turn in late for a drink or three, (bless ‘em) and this we did, until about 02.30am., in which time several people got to know the Jugsters a little better. And some of the more emotionally drained, (code for ‘pissed’ of our posse,) had a lie down & got decorated for their troubles!

By this time, not even the alcohol was numbing out the pain in my leg so Will, bless him ran me and Doug down to mine, whilst the rest began the walk down the hill.

 When I got there I had to get our Katie up as I had no keys, so I employed the usual, and time honoured tactic of throwing stones at her window. It eventually worked, a bit too well actually, as I also got the neighbours up too by hitting their windows as well.

(Well fuck em, they were gonna be getting up anyway, HUR HUR HUR!)

This gave me time to unpack the booze from the back fridge and make Doug a cuppa, before the rest of the drunken twats arrived!

As they eventually found their way back to mine, several of them carrying some soft furnishings ‘borrowed’ from the pub, (we took them back the next day,) via several different routes, (well, they are Jugsters after all,) the beers and the whiskeys started flowing and a party was in full swing. A couple of the ‘senior members’, (old twats,) shot straight into the living room & tried to doss down, Wiggy collapsing onto the sofa that Crip had already laid claim to, which led to, (later on, when he was soundly asleep,) Crip ‘bagging’ the bottle of whiskey he was trying to hold onto, with the statement, ‘‘payback is a bitch!’’

The shenanigans finally petered out at about 04.30, when we’d run out of everything drinkable, including our Danny’s stash of fruit flavoured vodka! He wasn’t impressed when he found out the next day.


When I got up the next morning, the leg was worse, which meant I had to crawl out of bed and over Barnsey & Jan, (who were kipping on the landing,) to get to the bog! As I slid over Jan, (not an entirely unpleasant task,) she awoke and shot through to join the two other members of ‘The freaky five’ that were already in my bed. I then hobbled down the stairs, looking forward to the prospect of clambering  over Steely, (yuck) & Dink, (yet again, not an entirely unpleasant experience either,) who were sleeping in the hall, but they were already up and in the kitchen, which looked like a field dressing station from the Napoleonic wars, there were bodies everywhere!

 Soon enough, everyone, (with the exception of Crip.) was up and slurping tea & coffee. Then a question was asked, ‘‘where’s Tony?’’ It wasn’t until the wife surfaced that the mystery was solved, silly bollocks had gone to sleep under his bike in the back garden, and she’d found him there, snoring his bollocks off after her marathon ‘drunk drag’ (Crip,) on the way home from the mop!

 When we eventually got him up, and Whitty out of his slumber too, we had another brew and began getting all of the bikes extracted from where they were all parked, on my patio. We then all got ready, (team Williamson had to go by car as there was no fucking way I could ride,) and all shot off down to the Bulls head carvery for a slap up, ‘all you can eat’ breakfast, which is where this little tale began.

All in all, a good night was had by all, and, on behalf of the rest of the club, I wish you, Sioned and Alex, all the best in the future.




The Church toilet facilities left a lot to be desired 

Check out the white Boogie Shoes! These Scousers know how to dress!

 El Presidente' shocked when found dancing to ABBA!

Lock in at the Mop. 

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