03/04/2014 07:02 BST | Updated 02/06/2014 06:59 BST

Adventures of Two Metal Heads in Paris

Being foreigners, our main form of transportation was taxis. What ensued was the scariest time I've ever had in a car, and I've been on road trips with comedians.

The Tale of the Black Cab and Princess Diana

By Chris Begg (Heavy Metal Guitarist and Comedian from Brisbane, Australia)

Many years ago, let's say 14, I visited Paris, France. Besides seeing the regular sights like the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and Frenchmen in berets, we saw many other things.

Being foreigners, our main form of transportation was taxis. What ensued was the scariest time I've ever had in a car, and I've been on road trips with comedians.

In the middle of the week we were taking a taxi from a restaurant back to the hotel. We hopped in the black cab, ready for an uneventful trip. "To the hotel, kind sir," we said. The driver did speak English, and was very proud of his city of Paris.

He'd point out the sights, the architecture, and where he lost his virginity to a heroin addicted hooker named Dixie. Then we approached a historic landmark; The tunnel where Princess Diana died.

As we approached the tunnel the driver got very excited. So excited that he took his hands off the wheel, leant over the passenger seat and exclaimed "That's where your Princess Diana died." The car swerved in the direction he was pointing, and we were rapidly heading into the same spot where Diana crashed. At the last second the driver took control over the car again we made it back safely to our hotel.

We thought we were going to die in the same place as Diana, but we survived. We'd ask ourselves the questions - Why us? Why did we survive? Was it due to the drivers quick reflexes? Was it due to divine intervention?

Probably not. I think the driver was just an arsehole.

Don't Feed The Metal Singer Absinthe

By Chris Jordan (Heavy Metal Singer/Guitarist from Edinburgh, Scotland)

In Paris, me and my buddy Aaron ended up at a metal bar called the 'Black Dog' while our girlfriends were out trying to pull French guys. Obviously since we're cool, we started chatting with the barman who was a big gangly goth who fuelled us with alcohol all night. Then, he brought out the high proof absinthe!

Skip forward to the good part of the story and I'm lying in a puddle in an alleyway, soaked in what I hope was water and rolling around gargling drunken crap. My girlfriend had to find an off-duty police officer to help drag my rotted carcass to the metro station (and she got his number).

As we got home, Aaron and I were yelling at everyone being the drunken arseholes you never expect yourself to become - when you've drank beyond the point of no return. So we screamed, fought, cried out and made absolute twats out of ourselves in front of the girls before getting to sleep.

At about 4:00am, I woke up and spewed straight away. Unfortunately, what I did was empty god-knows-what directly onto Aaron's head who was passed out next to me. Literally sickened by this, he then returned the favour on my feet. I then got up, ran to the sink leaving footprints of slime while retching all over the wall.

I then made it back to bed.

After an hour of gut wrenching pain, my girlfriend got sick of me vomiting next to her, kicked me out of the bed onto the ground and I busted my skull open on the way down. Then she dragged me through to the bathroom, dropped me on the cold floor. And with me poisoned and bleeding from the skull, she left me to die. #metal

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