This is going to turn into a giant love parade. I remember the Bol d’Or « Huns camp » being much less about love than trash…
I remember a very drunk German climbing a tree to sing the national anthem and falling out. Luckily his leg just caught the lowest branch and broke his fall. There was a French guy camping near us, in the morning he came out of his tent in his underpants, scratched his balls and fired up his bike, of course he immediately bounced it repeatedly off the rev limiter before hitting the kill switch and heading back to his tent. And I still have nightmares about the state of the toilets by the Mistral straight after three days use…
That reminds me of the British gp weekend a good few years ago. We were camping and sat outside our tents on the hill looking down at the toilet block. The gulley sucker was emptying the toilet. The toilet was shut but the big queue remained..... We looked and laughed as the queue was (unknown to them) patiently waiting in a brown fog
