Secret Diary of a Ballcrasher
Secret Diary of a Ballcrasher
Round up! Round up! Welcome one and all to Touchstone and Feste’s outrageous new blog. We are Touchstone and Feste and we crash balls. Read about our clandestine exploits everyday.
Okay, so first thing’s first, we better bring you up to speed on what we’ve been up to so far…
We started our week of debauchery at a college ball that shall remain nameless. Despit out reputation as two wholesome gentlemen, my partner and I were rather surprised by the unwelcoming reception we received when we first showed up. Two students armed with walkie talkies accompanied us from the second we arrived for our traditional perimeter scout. “Um, what exactly are you doing here?” asked one, sternly: ”You do know that you’re on private property?”
We managed to shrug them off and found a secluded spot to get things underway. Feste had really outdone himself on gadgets this year. He rummaged amongst some coiled rope in his bag and whipped out a set of binoculars. I rolled my eyes, guessing that he only really brought them to pretend he’s a spy on a mission… though, to be fair, we did get some crucial information. “It looks like their main weak spot is through the gardens around the back,” he said, squinting into the binoculars, “but they know it and have two guards making sweeps every few minutes.”
We lobbed a couple of tin cans against some railings about 40 feet away, distracting the street security so that we could jump over the garden wall. Within a minute a torch scanned the garden, but luckily we’d hidden behind a couple of trees. We moved along the perimeter, keeping low, until we were 10 feet from the guard. “Mate, I think our best bet is to run, he’ll spot us if-” but before I could finish, we heard footsteps: he was on to us.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” a voice shouted: ”I’m going to fucking batter you if you come any closer!” We sprinted together towards the music into some bushes, hoping it was an idle threat. Certain the security guard had stopped following us, we found ourselves in a clearing with just a little river between us and the main ball. Secluded on the other side, we were hidden amongst a sea of blue and red lights, designed to tastefully illuminate the trees. Amazingly, no-one could see us, even though we were so close, and we stood there watching the guests as they occasionally gazed over the water.
Next we sneaked up to the bridge where a worker was positioned. “Only one thing for it, Touchstone,” said Feste. I nod and we climb onto the bridge in full-view of about 50 ball-goers. One starts clapping, and shouts: “Look at these guys! They’re climbing in!” A girl with a security badge is wide-eyed and livid: “Can I see your wrist band please!?” she demands. “Well of course you can,” I respond, before turning and belting it like bolt of lightning.
Luckily the rest of the night went pretty smoothly, though the champagne wasn’t quite as chilled as I’d have liked.
