Let me tell you a true story. This happened to a friend of mine a few weeks ago, I will not say his name to save his blushes.   Are we sitting comfortably? Then let me begin.......    It can be said that as summers go this summer should be in court on a charge of fraud. There is no way on this earth it could actually get away with being called a summer. Even Noah would have said bugger this to the amount of rain we have had. So, when ever we have had a dry day everyone has made the most of it. A few weekends ago now we had a dry day. In fact it was not only dry, it was hot and sunny. And the massed populace did stare up into the sky and point at the shiny orb and as one they did speak and they did say 'Bloody hell!!' and headed out in their droves to worship the sun. And so did the person who this little story revolves around. For he is a biker and he had not ridden his bike for many weeks and like a lot of other bikers he was having withdrawal symptoms. So he wheeled the bike out of the garage, zipped himself into his leathers donned his helmet and roared off in the morning sun.   By mid afternoon he had had his two wheeled adrenalin fix and decided to head home and spend the evening with a wry smile on his face and a distant look in his eye as he replayed the days events of  fast sweeping bends, high speed launches out of corners and the roar of the engine. All was well with the world. With barely ten miles to go before reaching home something flashed by the Speedo and he looked down. A small amber light flickered indicating that he was almost out of fuel. So instead of heading directly back home he made a slight detour to his local supermarket so that he could refill the tank and therefore the bike would be ready for his next ride out if the weather held. As he approached the petrol station forecourt he noticed the queues. It seemed that the sun had drawn every body out for the day and now they all seemed to want to fill up with fuel. He looked around the forecourt and noticed the only pumps free were the ones that allowed you to pay at the pump. Ideal, he thought, all he had to do was ride up to one, place his card into it, type in his pin number and fill the bike up. He didn't even have to get off the bike. He slipped between a row of cars and positioned his bike in front of one of the pumps. He flipped open the petrol cap and started to fill the bike. As the display showed ten pounds he started to expect the nozzle to click as the tank rarely took more than that to fill. The display rolled round to eleven pounds, any minute now he thought, twelve pounds. He sat there and thought to himself that he must have ridden further than he had thought because he could never remember putting this much petrol in before. The display changed to thirteen pounds. He didn't think the tank held that much fuel and he leant forward to peer into the filler on the top of the tank to see how fuel it was. As he did so petrol sprayed up out of the tank and all over the bike. The device on the petrol pump that should stop a tank being over filled by clicking and stopping the delivery of fuel had not worked and now he was soaked in unleaded petrol. What is more so was his bike, which was still cooling down after his mornings ride. There was no way he could ride the bike now. It was dripping in petrol and so was he. He got off the bike and pushed it behind the kiosk to dry off. He looked down at his leathers. The petrol has over flowed out of the top of the tank and had soaked his crotch. He stunk of petrol. So without removing his helmet he walked into the kiosk to ask if they had a toilet so he could clean himself up. The attendant informed him that the nearest toilet was over in the main building the other side of the large car park. So, in the hot mid afternoon sun he trudged off across the vast expanse of tarmac to the nearest toilets.   Walking in bike leathers is difficult at the best of times, but in direct sun light it is extremely uncomfortable. What is more, his leathers were soaked in unleaded and it had started to seep through and now his underwear was getting soggy. Now, if you have ever had petrol come into contact with your skin for a prolonged period of time you will know this, petrol burns. Half way across the car park he started to feel a burning sensation between his thighs. As he continued to walk the burning got worse and started to spread as the fuel soaked into his underwear. He grabbed the front of his leathers and tried to pull them away from his skin. But the burning sensation got worse and started to spread. Within a very short period of time it was not just his crotch that was on stinging but his arse as well. He tried to pull the leather and his fuel soaked boxers away from his backside with his free remaining hand and quickened his pace. He needed desperately to get his leathers off and wash the petrol off. If he didn't he had images of him having to be taken to hospital with chemical burns of the genitals and anus.   Now remember I said that walking in bike leathers was not easy? Well, it is even harder when you are trying to power walk across a busy car park whilst trying to pull the leather away from your crotch and arse at the same time. He waddled into the main building looking like a multicoloured penguin on speed and frantically looked for the toilets. He could see a security guard watching him from the cigarette booth. He flipped open his visor and still hold his burning groin and smouldering arse he carefully walked across the floor looking like John Wayne suffering from Ghandi's revenge. He asked the security guard where the nearest toilets were. The guard looked at him with a puzzled expression and pointed towards the disabled toilets. He thanked the guard and walking like Quasimodo in Spyke racing leathers he shot into the toilets and bolted the door. The pain was getting intense and he stripped off the all in one leather suit and threw it and is fuel soaked boxer shorts onto the floor. Looking around he found the toilet roll and pulled a wad off the reel, thrust it under the cold tap and slapped it onto his burning nuts. The relief was incredible. He let out an audible sigh and looked up and could see himself reflected in a large mirror. What he saw was a man wearing only a T shirt and socks holding a mass of soggy tissue over his manhood. He cleaned himself up as best he could and flushed the toilet paper away. He got dressed and left the toilet. The security guard watched him leave the building and walked over to the window as he walked across the car park. But he did not care now, for he had washed himself down and the pain had gone. The fool. Half way across the car park the burning sensation starting once more. He may have washed himself down but he had put on his petrol soaked underwear under petrol soaked leather and it had started to ooze through again. He cried out 'Oh no, not again!' and turned and while grabbing his leathers in both hands the same as before he bounded across the car park once more heading towards the main doors. The security guard watched with a puzzled look on his face. As he reached the door he had worked out that the best thing for him to do was to ditch the underwear, but that would leave his now tender skin in direct contact with the sodden leather. Hang on, he thought, I am in a supermarket. Still clutching himself he set off into the shop on the hunt for new boxers. He raced up to the men's section grabbed the first pair he could find and part ran part yelped his way to the checkout. He stood behind a little old man in the queue who seemed to be paying for his shopping in pennies. If this was going to take any longer he would throw a tenner at the woman on the till and shout keep the bloody change. Luckily the little old man trundled off. The woman on the check out eyed him suspiciously. Stood in front of her was a six foot male, dressed in leather and a motorbike helmet holding himself and hopping from foot to foot. He grabbed the change out of her hand and shot off with a whimper towards the same toilets he had abused earlier and slammed the door shut. Inside he stripped off the leathers and threw the saturated under garments across the floor.   Ten minutes later he had suppressed the burning in his loins and sat on the toilet feeling relieved, his head back resting on the wall above the cistern. He closed his eyes as the cold water soothed the stinging. He looked for a way to dry himself off and found the hand drier. Turning the nozzle round he stood legs apart and hit the button then placed both hands on to the wall in front of him. He un wrapped the new pair of boxers and got dressed once more. He instantly could feel the difference. He tidied everything up and was just about to throw his old pair of boxers into the bin when he had a thought. The security guard had seen him run into these toilets twice now, he couldn't leave a pair of undies soaked in petrol in a disabled toilets. He had to get rid of them though, so he decided the safest thing to do was to take them outside and dump them in a bin outside so the fumes would not bother the shoppers. He stepped out of the toilets, sopping underwear in hand. The security guard and a few check out girls watch him as he did so. He glanced up and saw a security camera pointing at him. He looked down at the floor and hurried out of the shop vowing never to shop in Tesco's ever again in case some one recognised him.                                                                                                                                                                             

Brilliant                                                                                                                                                                               

.so how are ya nuts now then Aggy (yeah yeah - a 'friend' of mine...pmsl)

Classic                                                                                                                                                                              

ouch!!  Did he get any extra clubcard points for his pains?

 If it had have been me, any one who reads my blog on myspace will tell you, I would have owned up. This was a mate of mine - honest                                                                                                                                                                              

 ok i belive you                                                                                                                                                                              

Ouch!  Worst I've had is freezing cold rainwater running down the tank into the family jewel area on a long, cold ride across the Dales and that was bad enough, but Petrol Yeow!                                                                                                                                                                              

oh dear oh dear, what a pain in the aris!!!!   Mr Shaggy                                                                                                                                                                             

                                                                                                                                                                             

pmsl. poor man bet hes still sore.                                                                                                                                                                               

He waddled into the main building looking like a multicoloured penguin on speed ...   ..and still hold his burning groin and smouldering arse he carefully walked across the floor looking like John Wayne suffering from..   .. Ghandi's revenge.   ...walking like Quasimodo..   ROFLMHO Aggy do you write for a living? You should cos that was so funny. I can almost smell the petrol.                                                                                                                                                                             

An update to the story!!   The bloke in question is a customer of mine and I have been over to his company today. He tells me that his leathers had such a soaking in fuel and he spent hours with various cleaning products trying to get the stuff out that now they have a strange greasy feel to them and if they get wet his groin gets a bit frothy.   Personally I think if he has a frothy groin he needs a bit of oinment and a lie down in a dark room for a bit