Jesters Ultimate

Day 1
Its Sunday morning. We've all packed up our toothbrushes and sleeping bags and are setting off at 11 'o clock, an early start to our 5-hour road trip down to the sunny beaches of Newquay. At least this is what we hoped. In reality, and in true Jester style, its 12.30, Muscles is in town buying some very last minute essentials and our driver Mat is nowhere to be seen. Greg calls a meeting at Evington road to try to save some time and hopefully make the registration deadline. Another half hour passes and the arrival of our driver allows a short sigh of relief from the other Jesters sat in Greg and Mats living room, discussing the erotic wallpaper and pitching a few tents early. Mat gets showered, power wank, packed and we're all pilling in the luxurious, brand new, air-con equipped (thank Jod) minibus to pick up Crackers and JJ. Digby House and we're again impatiently waiting on the arrival of some overly chilly team members. But soon enough, JJ rocks up with a smile on his face and a crate in his hand, swiftly followed by a flustered Cracker and spirt is lifted as we set off. No, wait, Cracker forgot his ticket. Some speedy footwork from the asian contingent ensures we are on the road by, erm, 2? The beautiful weather only increases our expectations and general excitedness for an amazing joliday. We hit the motorway after some less than chilly wheel spins and cornering and worrying momentary lapses in concentration form mat, who redeemed himself with some nimble driving allowing us a second glance at any fitties we spotted in passing cars. The good times and the beer were flowing smoothly. JJ's navigating was spot-on and we were making good time so decided to have a quick stop off at services to relieve our aching bladders and craving for throwing discs. Swiftly back on the road, we prayed to the God of Ultimate that there would be no traffic and we would make our 7pm deadline for registration. Success! we arrived with (some) time to spare, rolling into the campsite, windows down and the Ultimate Frisbee song blaring out (not for the first or last time), we parked up and got in line to register. After registration, we split into two teams, shopping and tent-erecting. Both teams performed well, with tent-erecting team hitting the point cap before the shopping team could come back. Post-game calls involved a quick barbecue (with 40 sausages going uneaten and the ones we did manage to cook in time being composed mainly of cancer according to Jack, or mum, as he came to be known), donning commando gear and camo paint, all while drinking as much as we could before the coaches into town arrived. 4 Fingers soon realised he'd forgotten his sleeping bag. bad times. We were soon ushed out of the campsite and towards the coaches by some guy who also made Cock down a dirty can for no real reason, whilst the rest of us nonchalantly recited the ultimate frisbee song, for lack of any real chants (something Jesters might want to work on next year). After stuffing as many cans into our pockets as possible and piling into a packed bus, we were shown how to chant by the rugby teams sitting up the back. Pretty funny stuff. Arrived in town. Nearest bar. Piss. Cashpoint. Sailors. The club was empty when we got there, but after some discussion, we decided to stay as the drinks were fairly cheap. A few rounds later and the place was packed anyway. We headed across the club to find an empty dance-floor with everyone stood around looking longingly at the empty space. Mat and Cracker lead the rest of us into the middle of the floor and within seconds we were surrounded by loads of people. Yeah Jesters. -Memory Gap- We returned to the campsite to find 4 fingers doing his thing in the tent that Greg and him were supposed to share. We tried to ruin the mood a bit by shouting some abuse, while Jack searched for his sleeping bag, but we were too late. He works fast. Mat finishes up and invites Greg in for some spooning. Greg deals out, grabs his stuff and goes to sleep in Jeffs big tent, with Jack, Cock, Jeff and Cracker. Jack never finds his sleeping bag and spends most of the night putting on all the clothes he has brought with him and complaining about being cold.

Day 2
Awaking in a warm sleeping bag (well except for a disgruntled Jack). As Scott came out of the tent, he disturbed a purple sleeping bag stangely familiar to Jack's in the porch. As Jack's fury was unleashed, "I just thought muscles brought two sleeping bags" came the reply as the rest of us cracked up. And so we set out attempting to find breakfast. Having consumed the highly nutritious sports food of ketchup sandwiches, we mangoed up and headed off to the coaches for a trip to the beach. The trip was uneventful, the now usual chants and rugby players drinking spilt beer off the coach floor proceeding without commotion. Arriving at the beach, we were greeted by the sight of a vast expanse of sand and the house from the witches film (useful pub quiz knowledge). The tractors were still out smoothing out pitches, so we set up camp. Starting as they meant to go on, the organisers didn't seem to have much of a schedule, and frisbee was starting " this afternoon". Faced with hours on the beach, we started chucking around on the wet sand, and soon bumped into the Uriel and Purple Nurple teams. Turns out only three other teams had made the tournament, and Nurple were mostly beginners. We set up a game to pass the time, Jesters vs Uriel, 7 a side on the sand. Jesters started slowly, losing quite a few points before getting our act together. One stand out moment was Scott. Catching the disc, he pivoted before dumping to the team member running up from behind him. A sprint towards the endzone followed, with Scott outpacing his man and putting everything into it - before Jeff and Jackhammer had to point out he was running in the wrong direction. End of game (the tide had come in). Game 1 - Having finished the rugby, a quick move of the endzone ropes created our pitch and we were ready to start, despite the insistence of the Australian commentator that we needed a referee. Games were 20 minutes. A similar game to the wet sand, as Uriel ran out a lead of 3 or 4 before we woke up. The layouts were flowing, including a left handed layout point from Jeff, and some smooth play was getting Jesters back in the game. But too many throwaways (loads of discs went up as if it was a full size pitch) and not enough chill eventually cost us. Jesters 4 Uriel One 10 Calls of mix and mingle and ninja led to some weird looks from the crowd, but spirits remained high as we headed into game 2. Game 2 - Playing Purple Nurple, we knew that only a couple of team members had played before, and so forced backhand. The experience of Jesters showed as we raced into a 5-1 lead. As we choked, the Nurple team managed to grab three points in a row and we could sense an upset. But we pulled together, and the next point lasted about 30 seconds as four swift passes blew them away. Jesters 6 Purple Nurple 4 The call consisted of two team members holding the JTM and throwing them as far as possible. In our case it was Crackers- theirs was the smallest girl on the team. There's a video on facebook of the contest, but theres no shock over who wins. Game 3 - We played much better against this Uriel team, confidence high from the win. Points were evenly traded but Uriel eventually broke through and despite some huge Jesters pressure the game was lost. Jesters 5 Uriel Two 7 Commentator highlights - the Australian guy was on top form all day, taking the mick out of anyone wearing a wetsuit back to front, a bikini that had been eaten by fat rolls and discussing the wonders of ultimate frisbee ("is it a goal?, i dunno, i'm gonna call it a goal" as we screamed it's a point) And so the first day of beach was over. We had learnt that layout d's on sand will be attempted even if you're nowhere near the disc, that Jack plays incredibly while wearing a £4 Primark hat and that deep sand may limit Crackerlegs' ability to sprint (but not by much). We headed off to Aldi for more sausages and supplies. With dad Scott doing the cooking once again, we chilled with a drink or two before heading over to the Purple Nurple camp to get raved up. We attempted our revenge on Mat, but he noticed the attempted swastika drawings. Arriving in Newquay via frisbee coach (including a rousing chorus of Ultimate Frisbee), we eventually found red square only to discover that a Uriel guy didn't have his Id and couldnt get in. After some discussion, we went in anyway as he headed off to sort his life out. The glow sticks were free flowing, though the drinks were costly. Soon covered in glow stick paint, we hit the dance floor as party Scott made an appearance bustin a move. Mix and Mingle soon broke out, with the massive mistake of throwing themselves on the floor for skydive made by Jeff and Jack. This was followed by some typical frisbee circle dancing before guest djs the wideboys turned up with some drum and base. We decided to leave at about 2, and as we left Jack said he'd just pop to the toilet. We waited for 10 minutes or so outside the club, but no sign of Jack led us to presume that he was still dancing, so we got the bus without him. Back at the camp Greg, Cock and Jeff contemplated hiding Jacks sleeping bag again before heading to bed (no sign of Mat, probably amusing himself elsewhere).

Day 3
We awoke to another breakfast of ketchup sandwiches and aldi snacks. Jack recounted the tail of going to the toilet -Memory Gap- waking up later spooning the toilet bowl - and thus floorhammer was coined. Mat wandered up with a competing story of going back to a tent for a threesome before being cockblocked by a load of RAF lads. there was a sand castle compatition which we won despite only digging a large whole. this was due to some brilliant marketing which proved that it was infact a fully working hot tub with steps and an art deco style aztec pryramid control panel.

Day 4
We all went home, managing to return the minibus at exactly the deadline of 5 pm..