We clocked up the miles today – a proper stretch across France, powered by baguettes, bad directions, and sheer Dumball determination. No borders crossed, but a frankly ridiculous number of toll booths conquered. If France charges per sequin we definitely owe them a small fortune.
The convoy was in full costume mode, and as always, we turned heads wherever we went. Fancy dress and Dumball energy seemed to charm even the grumpiest of locals. Quite a few squads smashed today’s can-can challenge — nothing like a bit of spontaneous French dancing in a lay-by to keep spirits high.
Special mention goes to Fireman Sam – after some logistical heroics involving a night drive and an early ferry, they caught up with the orange squad and rolled into the party like the legends they are. That’s commitment.
As the sun dipped, the Dumball car park came alive in true tradition — sound systems emerged, roof parties kicked off (yes, again on the Dumb & Bass Jeep, because of course), and laughter echoed across the lot. For those with the energy (and vague sense of direction), the Hoppy Monkey Club was the next stop for a few extra rounds of nonsense.
One long, classic Dumball day down. More glorious madness ahead.
