OK this is what is known as the 'Bedford incident' amongst close friends and family, and it relates to the pioneering of the hottest curry ever.
I was in the last 18 months of my service in the RAF and was posted to RAF Henlow in 1965. I had a mate Snowy who worked for a different section and only occasionally would we be back at base at the same time. We both shared a passion for draft Guinness and curry! So we would head off in his car to Bedford which was about 12 miles away where we would drink lots of the most magnificent Guinness in the County and consume totally inedible curry in a backstreet cafe. At the time this was the only curry house in the county and it was very primitive.
I had never had this new thing called Vindaloo but on our first visit Snowy persuaded me to try one. I ordered a 'chicken' vindaloo, and he ordered a vegetable vindaloo as he never trusted what they put in curries, and he was certainly not keen on back-alley chicken (cat). Anyway the food arrived and smelt fabulous. The 'Chicken' was a leg and thigh on the bone skin on, as was the tradition those days, Snowy's looked like a packet of BirdsEye mixed veg. However it was delicious and we ate the lot. I was a bit concerned that the chicken thigh had a bone that looked triangular (like a shoulder blade) certainly not chicken-like but after a many pints of Guinness who cares?
On the way back we used to pass two other RAF stations (Cardington and Chicksands), they both served as milestones and evidence (when p***ed) that we were on the right road. The latter was the halfway mark.
Anyway on the first occasion we visited this curry emporium on our return we had just passed Chicksands when I heard a familiar burbling sound followed by a cloud of phosgene & Methane gas that was absolutely vile. Snowy carried on driving with a slight grin on his face. It was so bad we had to wind the windows down and it took a mile to clear.
The next time we went for a curry the waiter in usual politeness asked us what we would like we replied 'the same, but make it in to a proper vindaloo.' He was a bit surprised as he said no one ate curries that hot (Vindaloo was new to the scene those days). We insisted and the bum burner duly arrived. Bravely we ate it and when the waiter enquired if it was OK, we said it was lovely but could have been hotter. Anyway every time we visited that cafe over the next 18 months they made the Vindaloo hotter and hotter and every time we passed Chicksands we wound the windows down as the smell got more vile on each occasion; on occasions we had to stop the car wind all the windows down and then get out!
Now to the infamous 'Bedord Incident'. We had arrived back off our annual new year leave and Snowy and I decided to celebrate with, yes you guessed, the hottest bum burner yet preceded by gallons of Guinness. So off we went to Bedford on sub-zero bitterly cold night; we had been warned of snow, but braveheart and snowy wouldn't let that put them off. We arrived at the Mucky Duck (Black Swan Hotel) in the middle of Bedford and set about emptying their stock of Guinness. At about 10:30 pm they threw us out and we staggered around trying to find the cafe, which we eventually did. They welcomed us with open arms (and till) as usual, and we asked for the usual. 'OK, you want it even hotter as usual?" asked the waiter."No we want it even hotter, so hot it will melt the dish" we replied in chorus. He recommended that it was not a good idea especially in the state we were it. nevertheless we told him to get on with it. The Chef even came out and asked us to reconsider, but we insisted. I have never had anything so hot since. My mouth and lips were burned burned and blistered and I think my insides and bum were in a very similar state for days, Snowy was the same; and we couldn't speak properly for days afterwards, despite copious amounts of Guinness. I tithink the bowls and cutlery melted. The Chef and all the staff came out and watched us through the whole episode and applauded us when we finished (it all!). Ok Ok you say we have done that, but that is not what this story is about.
When we left the cafe sometime after midnight, it had been snowing heavily and a raging blizzard was in progress. We managed to find the car and dig it out, but we both thought it very risky to drive but had to because we were on early parade later that morning. So we set off at about 10 MP. Just outside the town battling through the blizzard and drifts we spotted a lone figure in an RAF greatcoat staggering along. So we stopped and offered him a lift, he gladly accepted and said he was student going to Hitchin which was about 6 miles further from our camp, but there were all night buses and taxis. So off we set again at a very slow carefull pace. It is not much fun driving through a Blizzard when you cansee two of everything. Anyway we passed Cardington, so far so good, the chap in the back was dozing and we were not able to speak anyway, and eventually we got to Chicksands. I had totally forgotten about Snowy's problem when I heard the tell tale sound; I reached for the winder and down came the window. Too late the green fouls gas filled the car rapidly and down came snowy's window too. The car started to fill with snow when we heard a gasping and coughing from the back; our friend has woken up. He muttere something about death and asked us to stop what we were doing. We said we would and explained the situation. Up came the windows and we carried on. Unfortunately Snowy did it again and the same routine happened, this time the chap wound down both rear windows as well. He had a bit of a shouting match, but quietened down when Snowy reminded him that we were doing him a favour and it was still a long way to go, but he would try to resist further attacks.
Unfortunately this was not to be an as we battled through these enormous drifts an the middle of nowhere he let of the worst he had ever done, followed by me as fell about laughing. There was a desperate scream from the back accompanied by a load of expletives, and he demanded the car was stopped immediately. Snowy braked, too hard, and we slewed in to a large drift and came to an abrupt halt. The student managed to force the back door open and got out swearing profusely at both of us. We got out also howling with laughter and farting even more! We apologised the best we could but the student was having nothing to do with us anymore, told us to Foxtrot Oscar several times and stomped of into the dark and the 12 inches of snow + drifts. I think we must have stayed there a while just howling our heads off and farting. We dug the car out and decided to go after the student and rescue him. We found him staggering along a short distance on and I wound the window down and asked him to reconsider as he would most certainly die in the conditions as they were. More Foxtrot Oscars and something like he would rather die that get back in the car. So we left him to his own devices in the middle of nowhere.
We got back to camp in the early hours went to kip. The following day we met up full of remorse and petrified at what we had done leaving that student, because we were sure he would not survive and there wer no other habitations where we left him and no vehicles on the road. We had everyone we could find scouring the roads, we asked the RAF police if they had heard of any incidents and we listened to the local radio and scoured the Papers. After a week we relaxed and got on with life again, but I often think back to that night and wonder what happend to that poor student. A Vindaloo has never been the same.
Sorry if this bored you, but happy if it provided some humour. And yes we were out of order drinking & driving, but in those days it was not considered as serious as it is now.
The Mucky Duck? Well they went down hill as their profits slumped when we left. The cafe? well I heard that it burned down a couple of years later, I think their profits went down to; but the good news was the back-alley chicken population started to increase again.
Oh Snowy and I were the fittest and slimmest guys on the camp for a long time, and I never had another bout of dysentry. The incident became infamous in the Mob and was the talk in the pubs for a while. Many other tried our mission but failed miserably; in fact on the night of our demob many months later we had a caravan of cars full of accolytes and leavers following us on the final mission. By the final morning we had lost four who crashed and ended up in hospital with their injuries (which was sad but the doc thoughtey also had something else serious which turned out to be the effects of the Guinness and Vindaloo); and we we lost another four somewhere, we and they had no idea where, but they managed to get back to camp aboy mid morning the following day.
Happy adventures eh?
CP
Topic: Most Powerful Curry Ever Eaten :/ ( 17,851 )
