Extreme Trifle Events Page
Welcome to the Hall of Shame. It’s all here. Everything we’ve ever attempted, failed, cocked up, and yet (on a surprising number of occasions) completed with nothing more than a grazed knee and some deportation orders.
So, whether you are trying to look busy in the office or are waiting for your date to arrive, why not relive a few of our disasters to pass the time. Or you could come and join us on the next one!
The Wrong Way Round Mongolia. Sandstorm, thunderstorm, shitstorm. And that’s before leaving camp. Looks like those cracks are only going to get wider.
The Isle of Nan TT. The only motorsport event where a fluid leak comes from the rider not the machine. When every pit stop could be their last it’s all out handbags.
Wrong Way Round Sahara. In 55 degrees of heat without water, weird things start to happen. In summary, the Sahara is hot.
Monsoon Madness. What will try and kill you first. The road conditions? Drowning? Why did the elephant cross the road?
Wrong Way Round Himalaya. When riding a mountain track with a 4,000ft drop it’s not ideal to have a dizzy spell. Or a puncture.
Spongefinger. You can’t sugar-coat a bond villain. Or can you? This is Cold War served straight from the fridge
The Wrong Way Round. Exactly like the famous “Long Way Round” only shorter. Like a lot shorter. With better acting.
Reliants to Russia. At least that’s one less wheel to put in a pothole. Or one less wheel to prevent a big fat roly poly.
Cheesy Rider. There’s never been a wilder bunch than the Hell’s Angel Delights. A tale of sex, drugs and cable ties.
Rickshaw Rampage. The original Indian sub-continent caper in motorised egg-shells. Keep going South until the land runs out.
Red Bull Flug Tag. Magnificent men and woman in less than magnificent un-flying machines. Run, leap, plummet.
Baltic Ice Rally. It’s a car rally in the Baltics. On ice. In distinctly non-rally spec cars. Like a hearse for instance.
Red Bull Soap Box Race. Our entry was neither made of soap or boxes. At least we went in with a bang and out in style. We didn’t.
The Plymouth – Dakar Rally. It left from Portsmouth and never went to Dakar. The original, grand daddy of banger rallies.
Ring Sting. The ring as in Nurburgring. The sting as in the sensation you get when petrol spills on your gentleman parts.