Descending on Paris with Patch and Useless Psychic, one of the listed targets was a Sprague-Thomson train. One of the first rolling stock on the Paris Metro, and made of metal. The one we were after was a T.95 fact fans.
Patch's diligent research had narrowed the train down to a certain station, tucked out of sight. And so stood in the station eyeing up possible problems, we legged it off the platform just after a train had left. Knowing we had a window of a few minutes. We came to a maze of lines crossing here and there, but we turned back on ourselves into a side tunnel, where we were confronted with huge white metal gates that stretched top to bottom. Patch was quick to work out a possible way around it. He started to work with Useless Psychic, and I grabbed a photo through the bottom of the gate.

I helped out a bit and we figured we'd done enough to get through. I was first to go, but could only get half my body through, twisting and pulling as much as I could. Patch being more determined than I had a go. He managed to shred his t-shirt but got through. I worked things at the access a bit more and found it was looking easier. Useless Psychic eased himself up and was halfway through when we heard "Bonjour", oh shit! Useless Psychic squeezed himself back out where I was stood. We grabbed ours and Patch's stuff and legged it back to the platform, and up the stairs to the ticket area. We then saw Patch with a guy who'd caught him in the ticket hall, as we raced up past him to the surface. Patch got the usual €50 fine. We saw the guy who'd cornered him later above the station while Patch was being questioned, he looked like a tagger in his white baseball cap and shorts!

After finding a new camera at Haxo station that meant it was a no-go, we headed to a McDonalds where the others feasted on Ronald's preservative-rich foods. I settled for some 'roast potatoes' and later a beer. It was then back to the station, and an R-A-T-P van that stubbornly refused to move after the station had closed. We decided to have a look anyway, and all popped down into the fire escape. We were down in a double-track tunnel now, and Patch and Useless Psychic decided to turn right, having both poured over a map earlier. I dutifully followed.

It didn't seem like much of a walk before we were at a junction. We had a choice of left or right, and Patch chose right. However, there was a small problem of a so-called 'dong barrier' first to counter. Next to the light on the left, you can see a 6ft high long black object, and above it is another smaller one. They use infrared beams similar to those on scaffold and had receivers on the other side of the tunnel. Getting past them is mostly down to luck, and in this case, we had some. Patch went first, and looked down the right-hand passage below. It led to a station he reported back, and that we should go for it. So Useless Psychic and then I followed, and into the tunnel. Tip-toeing as we went.

We reached the end of the track and could see the station. Patch and I disagreed at this point as to how to get to the station, as a p.i.r sat in the tunnel to the left of the camera, and a fence sat ahead of us. It was lucky we had the disagreement because two R-A-T-P security guards walked onto the platform just ahead of us.

This is the view the R-A-T-P chaps would have had if they'd turned around and looked down the tunnel. We were stood near where the floorboards sit on the tracks and lead into the caged area. However, we were all out of there before they'd have gotten a chance.

We sprinted back through the dong barriers, opened the gate with cctv, and scrambled out the fire escape. In the 200m Parisian tunnel dash, the Gold went to Useless Psychic, Silver to myself, and Bronze to Patch!
We hopped onto some Velib's (or Boris Bikes to Londoners) and cycled through the city back to our base for the stay. A park in NE Paris. A nearby building site we'd slept on the night before had a stack of portacabins on it, and feeling ballsy and that Sunday wouldn't be a work day, we crashed in one of the cabin's kitchens.

Still convinced we could make it, another attempt was planned. We were entering the stages of madness, as it was clearly a bit of a mission impossible. There were 5 R-A-T-P vans parked up at the station. Some of these would be cleaners and the party of workers we saw go in. But yet again, we dropped down the fire exit and were in the Metro tunnels. This time we went left, and ended up in single track tunnels.

We were again faced with two single-track tunnels and a dong barrier before them. We got lucky with the dong barrier and were inching our way down a tunnel with a train in. Going down tunnels with trains in is a very high risk, as trains are highly prized by taggers, and as such are very much on the radar of the R-A-T-P. We walked all the way to the end of the train and could see the platform of the station, as well as workers in clouds of dust doing something to the surface of the platforms. Patch reckoned it was worth a go, and began to try to sneak to the other side of the tracks, and was hoping to head down the tunnel away from the station. However, as he'd only taken a few steps, we heard, "bonjour!" Oh no, not again! Useless Psychic and I tip-toed back and began to leg it, as I was running I felt sorry for Patch, seemingly continually being in the wrong place at the wrong time. However Patch ran after us, and caught up with us at the other end of the train (in the shot below) and said the guy had asked if he was R-A-T-P, and Patch said 'Oui' and the guy walked off.

I knew I/We should have legged it, but we didn't. I knew the chap would inform the R-A-T-P security, which he did, and we'd be screwed. However, Patch suggested we go down the other tunnel that started off parallel to the one we were in with the train. I can't blame Patch for what happened next, because I had the opportunity to run, but I didn't. I stayed. Somehow the toxic lure of the Sprague was too strong. And so we walked down the other single-track tunnel. We got as far as the first alcove, where we all shoved ourselves in. Predictably the R-A-T-P security was wandering out of the tunnel with the train we'd just been in and walking up the tracks to where we'd entered the tunnels. As soon as they were out of site, Patch said we should run for the fire escape next to the parked train we'd seen, and hide out there.

As we climbed down to the lower bit of the fire escape, we hid in the shadows. It wasn't long before we heard footsteps approaching, and the door opened. The security chaps came in and flashed their torches around, climbed a first ladder, an then feeling satisfied, left. We couldn't believe it, how had they missed us?! We started to relax a little and had visions of laying low for a while and then getting the hell out. However, five minutes later we heard keys going into the lid at the top of the fire escape above us. The lid opened as we crammed into the shadows, Useless Psychic and I almost becoming one with a door. Patch crouched in the darkest part of the small passage. They said some words in French for some reason, but not aggressively or loudly. So we figured they again hadn't seen us. We had remained motionless throughout. The worst thing to do in such a situation is to move, as it makes clear someone is there.

So again we breathed a sigh of relief. But it was again short-lived, as the door above Patch's head burst open again, and this time they had their big torches out, and the lights flashed all over the walls and through the grill mesh above us. I knew we were screwed this time, and we were. They climbed up and pointed the torches directly at us. Patch went up first and they pulled him by his hair to the door, I went up next and they tried the same, only i had shorter hair, so it slipped through their fingers. Patch was bitch slapped when he was brought up. We were shunted not very gracefully I would say, out of the fire escape and back into the tunnel by the train. We were then frog-marched to the station platform. And told to sit down.

As we sat on the platform below against the wall, we each had our own R-A-T-P chap to ourselves, who went through all our pockets and bags. They didn't search very thoroughly, as they were mainly looking for spray paint. They were chatting amongst themselves in French, which was rather annoying because we'd clearly identified ourselves as English. They even had our passports with the fact we were British for heaven's sake. One chap did speak English and seemed relaxed. Some time passed while they wrote down our passport and address information. And then the Police Nacionale turned up. Patch uttered his "ohh shiiitt" catchphrase, which I knew wasn't a good thing! Again we had a cop each, and they searched us a bit more thoroughly, although the psychotic looking one that searched me missed my bum bag altogether below my trousers. He also missed my Swiss army knife in my bag. Patch fared better, and a tall short haired woman searched him. All the time bemused workers were surveying and working on the station around us.

Eventually, we were told to face the wall and handcuffed. Hmmm, I wasn't expecting this! The cops packed up our bags, with Patch's lady cop taking care to pack his stuff away, She gave Patch a cheap thrill by reaching into his pocket to get a lens cap. We were then gripped by our cop escorts, and taken out of the station to a dark van waiting outside. We were all sitting on the third row of seats, and then the pyscho cop who'd dealt with me sat in the middle row. Bridget Neilson sat in the front with Useless Psychic's cop who drove. We whizzed through town, crossing the Champs Elysee with blue lights flashing and the siren going. All good fun I was thinking nervously at the time. The cops managed to get lost, and we eventually arrived at Gare du Nord station, where Eurostar leaves for the UK. "Shit, are we being deported" were probably collective thoughts. We were led into the station and told to sit on a wooden bench. All around were metal poles with half-opened handcuffs and metal rings to attach unruly types too. Across from us a young woman slept in a non-covered duvet, pulled tight over her head. Behind her was a cell of sorts, with plastic fringed windows and a door. In it was lord knows how many gypsy-looking types. Every now and again, one would be pulled out or pushed in. Some were barely teenagers.

Time passed slowly as we chatted amongst ourselves, discussing what was likely to happen. Patch was getting agitated quite quickly, demanding some attention, and that Johhny foreigner should speak some bloody English to us. Half an hour later or so, Useless Psychic was starting to become equally irate. I, however, managed to get into a position where I could get some sleep and duly did so. After an hour and a half there and two and a half hours, since we'd been cuffed at the station, I too started to become pissed off. The cuffs were starting to cut in. Sending a text to Le Marc to let him know of our predicament probably hadn't helped on that front. One officer revealed that he spoke English, and told us to shut up basically. This was something of a red rag to a bull for Patch, and he egged him on, a mixture of pissed-off and brazen humour. As 6am came close, a high-ranking officer turned up and ordered us released. The English-speaking cop came over and undid our cuffs. "You can go now." My wrists, like the others were marked and painful. I'd never been cuffed before, so it was a new experience and not a pleasurable one at that.

They'd merely detained us to piss us off, using the tactic of not saying anything at all to instil fear and confusion. I was thinking, 'Cool, no €50 fine!' We trundled off and went to sleep in our favourite park. This proved a good move, as Patch discovered a rather interesting vent hidden in some bushes. Paris, the city that never stops giving those that seek the off the beaten path experience.
Big Thanks to Patch for research and leading the exploration, and Useless Psychic for being good company.