Surfs up

🏄 SURF'S UP, MISFITS!

Stg. Salty and the Great Bundoran Surfing Disaster

A BigSaltyDog Original Comedy Adventure

Location: Bundoran, County Donegal, Ireland.

Featuring: Stg. Salty, McFinleyyy, Govna, Senior Miguel, Whizz, Quags, Ye Olde Large Lad, Winky, Sarah, Susan, Amy, Anne and Finholio.

Special appearance: The legendary Leopard 2 tank!

CHAPTER 1: OPERATION SURF'S UP!

It was a glorious Friday morning when Stg. Salty burst into Misfits headquarters wearing a Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, flip-flops and a pair of shorts that looked as though they had been borrowed from a particularly small beach volleyball player.

He slammed a map of Ireland onto the table.

"RIGHT, YOU BUNCH OF LANDLUBBERS! OPERATION SURF'S UP IS OFFICIALLY UNDERWAY!"

McFinleyyy looked up from his breakfast sandwich.

"What's going on, Salty?"

"Bundoran, McFinleyyy! County Donegal! We're going surfing! We're going to conquer the Atlantic Ocean, become legends and possibly get our photographs in the newspapers!"

Govna nearly choked on his tea.

"Surfing? I thought we were going to the pub!"

"We can do both, Govna. That's called multitasking."

Senior Miguel raised his hand.

"Does Bundoran have tacos?"

Salty stared at him.

"It's Donegal, Miguel, not Mexico!"

"That's disappointing."

Whizz was already studying the weather forecast on his phone.

"According to this, lads, there are some fairly serious waves coming in. We need to listen to the surf instructors and check the conditions."

Salty grinned.

"Perfect! I don't want to be surfing in a puddle!"

Ye Olde Large Lad stood up, flexed both arms and delivered his best Arnold Schwarzenegger impression.

"GET TO THE CHOPPA!"

"Wrong mission, Large Lad!" Sarah shouted.

"GET TO THE SURFBOARD!"

Susan burst out laughing.

Amy and Anne arrived carrying beach towels, sun cream and enough snacks to feed a small village.

Anne looked at Salty's Hawaiian shirt.

"Are you seriously wearing that?"

"Absolutely. I'm a professional."

"You look like a tourist who got lost on the way to a barbecue," Amy replied.

Finholio appeared in the doorway carrying a surfboard nearly twice his height.

"Equipment acquired, gentlemen and ladies!"

Salty inspected the board.

"Where did you get that?"

"Second-hand shop."

"Is it safe?"

Finholio paused.

"Define safe."

McFinleyyy slowly put down his sandwich.

"Oh, this is going to be a long weekend."

Outside, the mighty Leopard 2 tank was waiting, freshly polished and ready for another Misfits adventure.

Salty climbed aboard, grabbed the microphone and addressed the troops.

"RIGHT! BUNDORAN, HERE WE COME! LET'S RIDE SOME WAVES!"

Govna climbed into the vehicle carrying three bags of crisps, six sausage rolls and a portable kettle.

Sarah looked at him.

"Why have you brought a kettle to the beach?"

"Emergency tea facilities."

She nodded.

"Fair enough."

And with that, the Misfits set off for County Donegal.

Nobody had any idea what was coming.

Least of all the Atlantic Ocean.

CHAPTER 2: WELCOME TO BUNDORAN!

After a long journey north, the Misfits finally arrived in Bundoran.

The Atlantic stretched out before them, with magnificent waves crashing against the coastline. Surfers were already out on the water, gliding across the waves with the sort of effortless confidence that made the Misfits look like a group of people who had just discovered their own feet.

Salty stepped out of the Leopard 2 and breathed in the fresh sea air.

"Ahhh! Smell that, lads! Freedom! Adventure! Salt water!"

McFinleyyy looked at the enormous waves.

"Mostly salt water, Salty. And quite a lot of it."

The tank was parked safely on firm ground in a designated area well back from the beach. Its cannon pointed harmlessly towards the empty coastline, while an Irish flag fluttered in the breeze.

Salty pointed towards the waves.

"That's where the action is!"

A local surf instructor called Conor approached the gang.

"Morning, folks. First time surfing?"

Salty stepped forward.

"First time in Bundoran. I've surfed everywhere!"

Conor raised an eyebrow.

"Where's everywhere?"

"Mostly in my imagination."

The instructor smiled.

"Right. We'll start with the basics. Balance, paddling and learning how to get safely off your board."

Ye Olde Large Lad flexed again.

"Balance? I have the balance of a mountain!"

At that precise moment, he stepped on a loose surfboard, slipped backwards and landed in a pile of beach towels.

Winky stared at him.

"That's a very unstable mountain."

The ladies were already getting organised.

Sarah checked the conditions with Conor, while Susan made sure everyone had suitable wetsuits. Amy and Anne handed out sun cream, reminding the lads that the Irish sun could be every bit as sneaky as an unexpected electricity bill.

Finholio was attempting to put on his wetsuit.

He got one leg in, then the other, then discovered that the zip was somewhere behind him.

"Can someone help?"

McFinleyyy approached.

"Hold still."

There was a tremendous ripping sound.

Everyone froze.

Finholio looked down.

"That's not good, is it?"

McFinleyyy examined the damage.

"Depends. Were you planning on surfing or becoming a sail?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Right, everyone. Let's get the lesson started before somebody manages to injure themselves putting on a towel."

Salty marched towards the instructor.

"Right, Conor. Show us the biggest wave!"

Conor pointed towards the beginner area.

"We'll start over there."

Salty looked disappointed.

"The beginner area?"

"Yes."

"But I'm Stg. Salty!"

"Lovely. The beginner area is over there."

And so began the greatest surfing lesson Bundoran had ever witnessed.

For all the wrong reasons.

CHAPTER 3: THE MISFITS TAKE ON THE ATLANTIC!

The first lesson was supposed to be simple.

Lie on the board. Paddle a little. Catch a small wave. Stand up. Smile for the camera.

What could possibly go wrong?

Apparently, absolutely everything.

McFinleyyy was the first to volunteer.

"Watch and learn, everyone. This is how a professional does it."

He climbed onto his surfboard, lay flat on his stomach and began paddling.

For approximately four seconds, everything went perfectly.

Then a small wave lifted the nose of his board, spun him sideways and deposited him directly into the water.

He emerged with his hair plastered across his forehead.

"I'm fine!"

A second wave immediately knocked him backwards.

"I'm reconsidering!"

Sarah was laughing so hard she could barely hold her camera.

"McFinleyyy, you've managed to lose a fight with a puddle!"

"It's not a puddle, Sarah! It's the Atlantic!"

Meanwhile, Govna had decided to approach surfing from a more scientific perspective.

He sat on the beach, studying the waves.

"You see, the trick is to wait until the wave comes along, then get on the board at precisely the correct moment."

Conor nodded.

"That's actually correct."

Govna smiled.

"Excellent. I'll wait here until lunchtime."

"Govna, you're supposed to get in the water!"

"I'm observing."

Senior Miguel wandered past carrying a bag of chips.

"Does anyone want some?"

Salty spun around.

"MIGUEL! WHY ARE YOU EATING CHIPS?"

"Because I'm hungry."

"WE'RE SURFING!"

"Exactly. I need energy."

Salty rubbed his forehead.

"I'm surrounded by absolute lunatics."

Whizz, meanwhile, had taken a different approach. He'd calculated what he believed was the ideal angle for catching a wave.

"Based on the direction of the swell, the wind speed and my estimated body mass, I should be able to achieve a reasonably stable ride."

He launched himself onto the board.

For a moment, it worked.

Whizz was moving!

The board glided across the water, and he even managed to raise his chest and look vaguely competent.

"LADS! I'M DOING IT!"

Then he realised he was heading towards a larger wave.

"OH, THAT'S NOT IN THE CALCULATIONS!"

The wave swallowed him.

His surfboard shot out of the water like a rocket.

Whizz reappeared a few seconds later, spluttering.

"My calculations were correct!"

Conor called out.

"What went wrong?"

"The ocean introduced additional variables!"

On the beach, Winky had been watching the chaos with growing concern.

"I'm beginning to think surfing is a terrible idea."

Ye Olde Large Lad clapped him on the shoulder.

"Nonsense! We are warriors! We are champions! We are—"

A rogue wave rushed up the beach and soaked them both from head to toe.

Large Lad stood motionless.

Winky wiped water from his face.

"Finish that sentence."

Large Lad looked at the sea.

"We are very wet."

CHAPTER 4: SARAH AND SUSAN TAKE COMMAND!

By midday, the Misfits had achieved three things.

They had managed to lose two surfboards in the beginner area.

Govna had consumed half the beach picnic.

And Stg. Salty had somehow managed to get his wetsuit stuck around his shoulders.

"THIS THING IS TRYING TO STRANGLE ME!"

Sarah walked over, folded her arms and inspected the situation.

"Salty, did you buy the correct size?"

"Of course I did!"

Susan looked at the label.

"Extra small?"

There was a long silence.

Amy collapsed laughing.

Anne covered her face.

McFinleyyy, still dripping wet, shook his head.

"Salty, you bought a child's wetsuit!"

"It's a tactical fit!"

Sarah took a deep breath.

"Right. Enough nonsense. We're taking charge."

Susan turned towards the group.

"Everyone, listen up. We're splitting into teams. No one goes into the water without the instructor's approval, and nobody attempts anything beyond their ability."

Salty opened his mouth.

Sarah raised one finger.

"Especially you."

Salty closed it again.

The ladies had been paying attention to Conor's instructions all morning. They understood the importance of checking conditions, using suitable equipment and learning in manageable stages.

Within minutes, they were practising their balance on the sand.

Sarah climbed onto her board and adopted a crouched stance.

"Like this?"

Conor nodded.

"Exactly. Keep your knees bent and look ahead."

Susan followed, concentrating carefully.

Amy managed to stand up on her first attempt.

Anne applauded.

"Look at that! She's a natural!"

Amy struck a victory pose.

"Hollywood, here I come!"

Finholio watched in disbelief.

"How are the ladies better than us already?"

Sarah grinned.

"Because we're listening instead of shouting about being legends."

Susan pointed at Salty.

"Your turn, Captain."

Salty marched towards the practice boards.

"Right. Observe greatness."

He lay on the board, paddled a few strokes and attempted to stand.

His left foot went one way.

His right foot went the other.

His arms began windmilling.

And then—

SPLAAAAASH!

He landed face-first in the sand.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Amy began applauding.

"Magnificent! Ten out of ten for the landing!"

Salty raised his head.

"Was that captured on camera?"

Sarah held up her phone.

"Every glorious second."

"Delete it!"

"Absolutely not. That's going straight onto BigSaltyDog!"

McFinleyyy leaned over.

"Title it: The Fall of the Atlantic Emperor."

Even Conor was laughing.

Salty stood up, brushed sand from his wetsuit and pointed towards the sea.

"Fine! Laugh all you want. Tomorrow, I'm conquering that ocean!"

Govna looked up from his sandwich.

"Can we conquer a chipper instead?"

"GOVNA!"

"Just asking!"

CHAPTER 5: THE GREAT MISFITS SURF-OFF!

By the afternoon, the Misfits had developed a new strategy.

They were going to hold an unofficial surfing competition.

Conor agreed to supervise a friendly contest in the suitable beginner area, with everyone using the correct equipment and following his instructions.

Salty immediately appointed himself chief judge.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first annual Bundoran Misfits Surf-Off! There will be glory, honour and absolutely no refunds for anyone who gets wet!"

McFinleyyy raised his hand.

"Salty, we're standing in the Atlantic. We're already wet."

"Don't interrupt the ceremony!"

The first contestant was Winky.

He approached the water with the nervous expression of a man who had just been told his electricity bill was overdue.

Conor gave him a few pointers.

Winky paddled, caught a small wave and actually managed to stand up.

For a glorious five seconds, he was surfing.

The entire beach erupted.

"WINKY! WINKY! WINKY!"

He came to a controlled stop in the shallow practice area, beaming.

"I DID IT!"

Ye Olde Large Lad gave him a massive hug.

"YOU ARE A SURFING MACHINE!"

Winky staggered backwards.

"Easy! I'm not built for bear hugs!"

Next up was Quags.

He strutted towards the water like a man entering a boxing ring.

"Stand aside. I've watched surfing videos."

Conor looked concerned.

"How many?"

"About three."

"That's not quite the same as experience."

Quags ignored him.

He paddled out under supervision, attempted to catch a small wave and immediately discovered that surfing involved considerably more effort than watching it on a mobile phone.

He slid off the side of his board.

When he returned to shore, he announced:

"I was testing the buoyancy."

Salty nodded gravely.

"Excellent scientific work, Quags."

Then came Senior Miguel.

He had been remarkably quiet all afternoon.

"Right, Miguel," Salty said. "You're up."

Miguel looked at the sea.

Then at his chips.

Then back at the sea.

"I've made a decision."

"What?"

"I'm going to be a beach lifeguard."

Conor smiled.

"That's a different job entirely."

Miguel nodded.

"Exactly. Less surfing. More sitting."

Sarah shook her head.

"Unbelievable."

But the biggest surprise of the day came from Finholio.

Despite his damaged wetsuit and questionable surfboard, he listened carefully to Conor's instructions and practised his balance on the sand.

When his turn arrived, he paddled out into the supervised beginner area.

He caught a gentle wave.

His board began to glide.

He stood up.

And stayed standing.

"LOOK AT ME!"

The Misfits went absolutely mental.

McFinleyyy jumped up and down.

"FINHOLIO! THE NEWEST MEMBER OF THE MISFITS!"

Amy and Anne cheered.

Susan waved her towel.

Sarah captured the whole thing on camera.

Finholio rode the wave into the shallow area and stepped off his board with the biggest grin anyone had ever seen.

Salty stared at him.

"Right. That's it. You're promoted."

"To what?"

"Assistant Surfing Commander."

Finholio bowed.

"An honour, sir."

Whizz leaned towards McFinleyyy.

"He's going to be unbearable now."

"Now?" McFinleyyy replied. "He was unbearable before!"

### CHAPTER 6: SALTY'S ATLANTIC ADVENTURE!

As the afternoon sun began to lower, Stg. Salty decided that the time had come.

He was going to catch a wave.

Not a tiny wave.

Not a beginner's wave.

A proper, respectable, photograph-worthy wave.

Conor took him aside.

"Salty, listen carefully. You should only attempt waves within your ability. We'll stay in the supervised beginner area."

Salty nodded.

"Understood."

"Keep your balance."

"Understood."

"Don't rush."

"Understood."

"And please, for the love of God, stop shouting at the ocean."

Salty saluted.

"Understood!"

Sarah folded her arms.

"This should be interesting."

Salty paddled out, with Conor supervising nearby.

A gentle wave approached.

"NOW!" Conor called.

Salty paddled.

The board began to move.

He pushed himself up.

One knee.

Then the other foot.

He was standing!

For the first time in his entire life, Stg. Salty was actually surfing.

"LADS! I'M DOING IT!"

He glided along the wave, arms stretched out, knees bent and a look of pure disbelief on his face.

McFinleyyy was jumping around on the beach.

"HE'S ACTUALLY SURFING!"

Govna dropped his sausage roll.

Senior Miguel nearly spilled his chips.

Ye Olde Large Lad roared like a football supporter at a cup final.

"GET TO THE SURFBOARD!"

Sarah was recording everything.

Susan was laughing.

Amy and Anne were cheering.

Whizz was shouting about wave angles.

Winky was clapping.

Quags was claiming he'd taught Salty everything he knew.

Finholio was dancing on the sand.

And then, just as Salty was beginning to believe he might become Ireland's next surfing sensation, he looked directly at the camera.

"THIS IS FOR BIGSALTYDOG!"

He lifted one arm.

The board wobbled.

His eyes widened.

"Oh, biscuits."

SPLAAAAASH!

The Atlantic swallowed Stg. Salty whole.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then a surfboard floated past the group.

Then Salty's sunglasses.

Then, finally, the man himself emerged from the water.

He stood up, dripping from head to toe.

Everyone was howling.

Salty spat out a mouthful of seawater.

"Right. Nobody says a word."

McFinleyyy was on his knees laughing.

"Salty, you looked like a washing machine with a military haircut!"

Sarah showed him the video.

He watched the footage in silence.

Then he grinned.

"Actually, that's brilliant."

"Really?" Susan asked.

"Absolutely. That's going straight onto the blog!"

Govna nodded.

"Can we go for dinner now?"

Salty pointed at him.

"That's the first sensible thing you've said all day!"

CHAPTER 7: THE GREAT BUNDORAN BEACH BARBECUE!

By early evening, the Misfits had officially surrendered to the Atlantic Ocean.

Their wetsuits were hanging up to dry, their surfboards were stacked beside the vehicle, and Salty had finally managed to remove his ridiculously tight wetsuit.

He emerged wearing a pair of shorts, a T-shirt and the expression of a man who had survived a particularly unpleasant encounter with his washing machine.

"Right, troops! Mission accomplished!"

McFinleyyy stared at him.

"What mission?"

"We went surfing!"

"You fell off a board!"

"That's part of surfing!"

"You swallowed half the Atlantic!"

"Hydration!"

Sarah burst out laughing.

"Salty, you're absolutely impossible!"

The gang headed off for some food, with Govna leading the way.

"I've located a restaurant. They do burgers, chips and proper portions."

Senior Miguel brightened.

"Do they do tacos?"

Govna stopped.

"Honestly, Miguel, if you ask for tacos in every restaurant in Donegal, they'll eventually deport you!"

Anne laughed.

"Leave him alone. At least he's consistent."

The group settled down, exhausted but delighted.

Ye Olde Large Lad ordered a meal that looked large enough to feed a rugby team.

Winky was still celebrating his five seconds of surfing fame.

Quags was telling everyone how he had almost become a professional surfer.

Whizz was explaining the science of wave formation to a waitress who had only asked whether he wanted ketchup.

And Finholio was already planning his next surfing lesson.

"I reckon another week of practice and I'll be ready for the professional circuit."

McFinleyyy shook his head.

"Another week? You'll need another wetsuit first!"

The table erupted in laughter.

Then Salty stood up, raised his glass of lemonade and addressed the entire gang.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Misfits, and assorted beach casualties. Today we travelled to Bundoran to conquer the Atlantic Ocean."

He paused dramatically.

"The Atlantic Ocean won."

Everyone cheered.

"But we learned something important. We learned that surfing takes patience, practice, teamwork and a healthy respect for the sea."

Sarah smiled.

"That's actually quite inspirational, Salty."

He nodded.

"Thank you. I've been working on that speech for approximately seven seconds."

Susan shook her head.

"There he is. Normal service resumed."

Amy raised her glass.

"To the Misfits!"

Anne followed.

"To Bundoran!"

Finholio lifted his drink.

"To my future professional surfing career!"

Govna raised a chip.

"To the breakfast buffet tomorrow!"

"GOVNA!" everyone shouted.

And the entire restaurant burst out laughing.

CHAPTER 8: THE BIGSALTYDOG SURFING REPORT!

The following morning, Salty sat down with his laptop to write the official report for BigSaltyDog.

His fingers flew across the keyboard.

MISSION REPORT: OPERATION SURF'S UP

Location: Bundoran, County Donegal.

Casualties: Several bruised egos, 

Big Fun was had by all