Mayday, Mayday!!

Hey hey!

So I have not posted for a while! Today's post is nothing to do with style, fashion or anything so cultured.. it's rather the tale of my sea faring adventure on the last day of my recent Ibizian holiday. I dedicate this post to the lovely Nancy who's feeling a bit worse for wear after last night's 2 O'clock Jump and is in need of a distraction!

Ok so it was a Sunday- the last day of my holiday (oh gosh it seems like an eternity ago) I was invited along with my gorgeous friend Sarah- whose Birthday it was- to spend the afternoon skipping over the Med in a super fast 'Cigarette' speed boat.  

We had been invited by two French fellas called Norbert and Laurent we had met the evening before in the aforementioned Teatre Pereya. Forget Blue Marlin, Malibu, The Jockey Club etc.. Teatre Pereya is THE place to meet the walnut tanned yacht skippers- The skippers are where it's at; they're the unofficial pimps and hustlers of Ibiza town, with sordidly fun tales of skippering Russian, German and Italian mafia owned yachts and are extremely well connected. After several rums/vodkas/mojitos, and a brief lesson in how to jive to a cover of Ray Charles' 'Halleluja i love her so' courtesy of yours truly ( which featured a few Gil Elvgren style flashes of my thoroughly British M&S knickers whilst spinning around the dance floor) we were all best friends. So when Laurent asked if Sarah and myself would like to have an afternoon aboard an enormous speed boat it took all of about 3 seconds to say YES! It was a vast upgrade from our previous plans which were to sunbathe and hire a Pedalo- although it was going to be a pedalo in the style of a sea faring VW Beetle and it did come with a slide too...

Looks like fun huh?

The next day, Sarah and I were picked up, after having only a few hours sleep and feeling worse for wear after that last 'one for the road rum and coke'. After some time spent faffing around ( I hate faffing, well i'm prone to faffing but I cannot stand other people doing it! ) we arrived at our Cigarette Speedboat- it's called a Cigarette as it's very long.. Basically its a big dick extension of the boating world..  It had two enormous V8 engines powering it.. its balls! (metaphorically speaking..) In fact I screamed when they were first started up, they were so loud! We set off on our voyage for the nearby island of Formentara. Sarah and I pretty much screamed the entire way. I swear we almost broke the sound barrier- not with the screaming but with the speed! I couldn't close my mouth properly with the G Force and I almost lost my bikini top at one point. The guys seemed fairly nonchalant about the whole thing, infact they just hit the throttle faster..

Cigarette Speed boat! Action shot!

'Cigarette Speed dicks' balls.. x2 V8 engines!

Laurents windswept mullet is testament to how fast we were traveling..

We reached the island and had a lovely lunch at the beach restaurant. I had a dish of mini fried squid, which is three of my favorite food groups: miniature sized versions of bigger animals, things that come fried and strange sea creatures! But here is where the problem started- maybe it was the dizzy rush of driving such a big sea dick which made two girls scream with terror/delight.. Laurent started to play footsie with me in the sand under the table.. I kept moving my feet to the opposite side but unfortunately his legs were much longer than mine! Oh dear.  I REALLY didn't fancy him.  We left the restaurant and sped off to another nearby island for some swimming, it was quite amusing when we arrived because there were lots of yachts in anchor with their inhabitants having a peaceful sleepy Sunday afternoon. Until we arrived that is, in our humdinger of a boat. Imagine that you're relaxing in your garden at home having a nice cup of tea, reading the paper, listening to the birds tweet when suddenly a Harley Davidson comes crashing through the garden fence and proceeds to drive around and around your garden for 5 minutes whilst it finds the perfect parking space- right in the middle of your rose bushes. That is pretty much what we did.. Everyone looked thoroughly pissed off.

From here on it went from footsie to worse.. We went for a swim, which was nice until Laurent got in and made a beeline (or should I say sharksline) for me and would not leave me alone despite my obvious non receptiveness to his futile attempts at underwater manhandling.  Sarah even started humming the Jaws theme tune anytime he got near. It's as if he thought that by simply repeating the same failed attempts at foreplay I might somehow forget I wasn't interested and start fancying him! After swimming for a while we got out and went for a walk from the beach inland to what I think was some sort of natural mud swampy type thing- it's very good for your skin apparently but I had a cut on my foot which hurt like hell when I got the salty sulphur mud on it not, to mention it was rather whiffy.. Sarah and Norbert were happily caking themselves in the mud which left Laurent and I (as he was pretty much glued to my hip by this point) slightly redundant on the bank. Laurent suggested we "go for a walk, it is very pretty here" UH-OH I thought to myself, all of a sudden I felt like I was 13 again when Paul Smedley asked if I wanted to go for a walk in the fields behind our school and I really didn't want to ( he was the sloppiest kisser ever.. yuk) every fiber of my being was shouting inside ' no don't do it! Think!! quick!! Think of an excuse now quickly!!! Come on girl!!! "  And so what I do? I respond with a very enthusiastic " Yes please! That would be lovely!"  What the...? If I could have kicked myself in the head there and then I would have..


Cue the most excruciatingly awkward 20 minuites of my life! Really, it was just awful. As we wandered through the sand dunes  Laurent kept trying to hold my hand, I kept trying to move it away. Occasionally he would out hand maneuver me and would take hold of it and i'd let my hand go completely limp until it fell out of his. Surely, surely these are signs that the gal is NOT interested? No?? Perhaps it was his Frenchness? Possibly, but even by French standards ( and i'm somewhat of an expert here..) he was persistent.. An Englishman would have given up hours ago, well firstly he would try to make me laugh, seducing via wit. He was like Pepé Le Pew and I was the poor cat.. We came to a small clearing and stopped.  As we came to a natural halt, Laurent with super fast speed moved infront, facing me. "Oh God" I thought to myself " Please, please, please don't let him try to kiss me. PLEASE!" He lent in... I turned my head as he did so and he planted the kiss on my chin.. He moved back, then lent in again this time with a determined look in his eye, but I was too quick and turned my head to the other side.  We continued like this for some time, I'm sure we must have looked very odd from the outside, I imagined much like two birds engaging in some sort of mating dance- whereby the male bops his head up and down at the disinterested female whilst she dodges out of the way. I even had an imaginary David Attenborough running comentary.

An artist's impression of the aforementioned scene...

Ahoy there Mon Cherie!!

Pepé Le Pew, sorry I mean Laurent..  on the lookout for the next unsuspecting female..

..But I really wasn't about to do a Shirley Valentine and 'make fuck' with Laurent!! 

Really I suppose I should have just told him to stop and leave me alone, but my problem is i'm  too polite!! I can't help myself and to be fair it's not like i'd given him ANY signals that I even remotely fancied him. I hadn't even flirted! Which for me is pretty much unheard of..  Eventually/reluctantly he took the hint and asked 'why I was being so hard on him' 'didn't I want to be with him?' ....ER NO! Clearly not!!! I simply replied that "I was a lady and that i'm just not that kind of girl.." (which of course I am, a lady that is... most of the time...) This seemed to do the trick, you can't really argue with that one and at the same time by phraising it that way you avoid having to be mean. But I must say he was very lucky- had he have crossed the line, which he almost did... polite English girl or not, it would have be a slap across the face, a few choice words and a knee to the groin, I assure you.. Thankfully after that he pretty much left me alone. Although he was rather grumpy. A bruised ego and a valuable lesson learnt - money and big speedboats cannot buy you love. Not with this girl anyhow.  

That evening Sarah and I were having our last cocktail in Ibiza, talking and musing about the events of the day. She concluded that whilst our speedboat adventure was clearly a by product of Laurents unsuccessful designs of getting into my bikini bottoms, she'd had the best Birthday for a long while! And that, if nothing else, my endurance of the day had proven one thing: That I was a very good friend indeed.. 

Until next time.. Over and out. 

Love, Tippi x