Biker Groups

Generally, and it's on the site rules so I know that it's a fact, we don't allow groups of motorcyclists on the park. I don't know how this group managed to sneak on, but they are there.
The previous evening they arrived back at around eleven o'clock and were fairly noisy. I spoke to them and asked them to quieten down and go to their tents. They did and I had no further dealings with them after that.

Last night, however, was a different story all together.

As I made my way around the park, I noticed a few empty cans of lager on a picnic table outside the bikers tents. I thought that they were leaving in the morning and had decided to call it an early night. Oh, how wrong was I.

Just after midnight, a large taxi pulled up and a group spilled out into the car park. I stood at reception to watch what was going on. They were being very disruptive and I was about to go and ask them to quieten down, when another taxi pulled up and offloaded another group. The noise increased ten-fold. That was enough to warrant the first interaction with the night warden. As I made my way down to the gate, they were walking up. I spoke to the first male, I had spoken to him the previous evening, and asked him to instruct the group in their native tongue to quieten down immediately. He apologised and turned to the group and said something in Dutch (remember that key point, as it comes in useful later in the story). The group carried on walking and another male, who I suspected of smoking something narcotic the previous evening, said, "Evening." I responded to this by repeating the pleasantries and he stopped. He stood on the spot, swaying slightly from side to side, rolling his arms. I said "Evening" again and he smiled and carried on walking.

I decided to follow them up to their tents to ensure that they were going to be quiet. One of the group, dressed in a 'comical' hat and clogs (yes, I kid you not) was urinating against the trees. I spoke to him and pointed out the toilets to him. He finished what he was doing, picked up his pint glass of lager and walked off. How he managed to take a pint glass, with alcohol in it, from town into a taxi and all the way to the campsite is beyond me.

I followed them again.

As I came round the front of the toilets, I noticed a male come out of the female toilets and return to his tent. He was part of the bike group. I stood at the entrance to the toilets to let them know, visually, that I was there. They were quiet going into the toilets and coming back out once word had got round that they were being monitored. All except one. The clog-wearing, urinator himself. Wooden clogs and concrete are not a match made in heaven, especially not at 12.30 in the morning.

After they had finished using the facilities, I realised that they were becoming quite noisy, so I walked over to ask them to quieten down. I told them that this was their final warning and if I had to return the manager would be called. After a brief conversation with them, which included one member of the party asking me "to speak the Queen's English, not broken English with a Polish accent." (incidentally, I'm not Polish and have subsequently never been to Poland.) They realised I was serious and as I walked away, one of the Dutch crowd said, "Looks like the party is over then."

Indeed it is.