My final blog post about my cruise – I promise.
Whenever you go on holiday, you will see tourists in football shirts. It’s an almost certain sight and one all the more likely, if you choose to travel to a location visited by the British.
It doesn’t matter if you are visiting a cheap, all inclusive resort in Benidorm, or a remote villa in Tuscany – keep your eye out and sooner rather than later, you won’t be left disappointed. Unless you discover that a family of Chelsea fans are staying in the neighbouring room/villa/caravan/cabin, in which case your holiday is ruined.
Some people clearly believe that if you wear the kit of your team, it automatically makes you the greatest fan of your club – at least in the country you’re visiting.
In some cases, that may be true. For example, if I was to wear a Leeds shirt while visiting The Vatican. Due to the small population, not only would I be the best Leeds supporter, but the only one.
The same can be said if you were to wear a Yeovil Town shirt while in China – for the same reason as in my original example.
Back home in Britain, it’s always nice if you spot someone wearing the shirt of the team you support. This feeling extends to super giddiness, when the same shirt is seen being worn while you are in another country.
To non-football fans, this can best be described by comparing the behaviour of your typical supporters, to that of two dogs, meeting in the park.
Despite not knowing each other and having no sexual attraction, due to being castrated (dogs, not football fans), they go wild – jumping into each other, sniffing the other one’s bottom and barking excessively.
What the dogs are saying, God only knows – probably something like this…
Dog 1: “Hey there! I’m a dog!”
Dog 2: “Wow! I am also a dog!”
Dog 3: “Are you guys dogs?”
You must be wondering where I am going with all this waffle.
Well, despite being a bit chavvy *, I spotted numerous football shirts on the cruise. I kept a list of the offending clubs…
* I wore a football shirt on the ship too, ok. So don’t think I’m being snobbish.
- Swansea City
- Middlesbrough
- Huddersfield Town
- Coventry City
- Manchester United **
- Liverpool (retro shirt)
- Leeds United – worn by me
- I also think that I spotted somebody in a Bournemouth shirt.
- An honourable mention for a smart Leeds United backpack, which I noticed while going through security.
** like with rats, you’re never more than six feet away from a Manchester United fan.
So that is that. No more blogs about the cruise. Probably…
… although apparently the money is.
“Do you think it’s too late to ask for our old job back?”
Brits abroad are known to have somewhat of an infamous reputation – especially when it involves visiting large European cities to watch games of football.
When I read accounts of the behaviour of British football supporters overseas, I generally roll my eyes and think “what a bunch of pillocks”. Thankfully, I can distance any association between the louts and myself, enough to say that I do not feel embarrassed by my own countrymen.
However, if any of the misbehaving yobs were fans of my teams, I would find myself burying my head in my hands. I support Leeds United and Bath City, so luckily, I have no worries of my fellow fans getting into mischief abroad – there is more chance of Nigel Farage joining the European elite than either of my teams.
Tête la merde
Generally, my recollection of football thugs abroad involves drunkards throwing chairs, smashing shop windows and singing about shooting Nazi war planes from out of the sky. Their grandfathers may have brought a plane down, but they wouldn’t stand a chance themselves. Just because they played Lylat Wars on their Nintendo, as a child, they think they’re James Bigglesworth. Thank goodness we’re not at war with Germany now, because if we were dependant upon the lager-swiggers to fight for our freedom, Hitler would win.
I digress. When I used the word ‘recollection’ I was not referring to my own personal experiences abroad! Whenever the England national football team are involved in a major international tournament, I am sure that, like me, you will have noticed all the television news reports – probably exaggerated – about how Brits can’t handle their ale and are putting the country to shame again, by singing ‘God Save the Queen’, while attempting (and failing) to climb the Arc de Triomphe.
Despite all this naughtiness, until today, I am yet to hear of a football fan removing his clothes and performing an act which I can only describe as ‘playing with himself’. Did I mention that while he was fiddling with his meat and two veg, he was being watched and cheered on by an adoring crowd?
This is Mike Bassett (former England manager). The real stripper is far too lewd to post on this family blog.
A second story involving football fans abroad caught my eye this week. This time, no supporter was causing any trouble – although I would be wrong if I said that they weren’t taking the piss.
This report is as sad as it is disgusting. Although I guess that it depends on what football team you support. In this case, the fans involved follow Liverpool. Therefore, Manchester United supporters would probably find it funny. Likewise, if the same happened to them, I’d find it fecking hilarious.
The unfortunate Liverpool fans were travelling from England to Madrid, to watch the Champions League final. During the journey, their coach developed a fault, somehow causing the contents of the on-board toilet to leak into the luggage compartment, saturating all the suitcases in urine.
Anyone who has had to use a coach toilet will know they stink to high heaven. I did once. After that, I swore to myself that I would never use the facilities again and would just hold my wee-wee in, even if it meant my bladder exploding.
The coach trips I took involved domestic travel and a maximum journey time of four hours each way. Merseyside to Madrid lasted 30 hours! Given that the coach was transporting excitable football supporters, a lot of on-board drinking was no doubt involved. Lots of drinking equals lots of weeing. Lots of weeing into a broken toilet equals lots of smelly mess!
You just have to feel for them. At least they won the game…
Danny Drinkwater. Such an excellent name for a football player – especially considering he has been found guilty of drink driving.
Maybe before ordering his 8th Babycham of the evening, young Daniel should have remembered the advice given to his great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather – Dr Augustus Gulpmead…
The story goes, that in the year 1381, following the Black Death wiping out almost half the population, everyone who survived was given a new name. Where possible, this new identity would reflect the person it was to be gifted to.
Despite being a man of medicine, Dr Gulpmead was known as the town drunk, and was often seen sozzled on mead – a popular alcopop in the 14th century. His rather unusual surname was no coincidence!
It was decided that to save the doctor’s life, the good folk of London Town must first save his liver, by halting his mead habit.
It was for that reason, Dr Gulpmead became Dr Drinkwater. He married, had children, and never touched the booze again, blah blah blah… skip forward a dozen generations and we have Danny Drinkwater.
Unlike his ancestors, Danny is not teetotal. He also doesn’t need to worry about the Black Death – although, ironically, he works alongside a number of rats at his current employer, Chelsea Football Club.
Of course, for legal reasons, I must say that the whole Dr Gulpmead and Black Death stuff is just a fictional story. All of the above is made up and never happened… apart from the bit about Danny Drinkwater getting caught over the limit – sadly, he’s a pisshead who drives and crashes cars. See, it’s on the BBC. They never lie…
With all this in mind, here are some other surnames, that I propose certain footballer players change their identities to.
- Lionel Paytaxes
- Wayne Avoidgrannies
- El-Hadj Nospit
- Cristiano Dontdive
- Rio Passtest
- Luis Mouthshut
- Diego Justsayno
- Ryan Dontsleepwithyoursisterinlaw
This is a great idea. Firstly, it would aid the billionaire clubs, financially. This is because it would force parents to buy their darling kids another shirt, because Ruud van Salah has changed his name, meaning that the printing on their previous shirt is out-of-date and effectively worthless.
Secondly, it would help footballers remember what they shouldn’t be doing, just by recalling their own name! I am sure Joe Driveslower, Alex Nosteal and Robbie Dontshagpigs (all fictional examples, in case you were wondering) will all benefit.
This blog post aged well.
Written in December 2018, I fantasized about various outcomes, come the end of the season…
Leeds to finish as Champions – ha! We couldn’t even get second place in the end. Sure Leeds are in the Play Offs, but there is more chance of me running the London Marathon, than my team getting promoted.
Liverpool to win the Premier League – While my wife, Claire, was able to enjoy her team giving their league rivals a good many more problems than Leeds did theirs, the Reds ultimately fell short – losing the title this afternoon, to that lot in Manchester. No… not Manchester United. There’s more chance of me WINNING the London Marathon, than that team winning anything.
Bath City to win the Play Offs – It was the Play Off Final this afternoon. City were supposed to be playing. Well, according to my fantasy, from five months ago, they were! City weren’t even involved. This is because they had lost to Wealdstone, in an earlier knock-out round. Wealdstone then went on to lose themselves, so didn’t get to the final either. Overall a waste of time. Oh, fiddle-sticks.
Casting my fantasies aside, I also made some actual predictions. I would say that they are scarily accurate, apart from the fact that it was flippin’ obvious I would guess correctly…
Leeds to miss out on automatic promotion and bottle the Play Offs – So far, so predictably shite. Automatic promotion is but a distant memory. Leeds are still in the Play Offs, but the brewery has the bottles all ready to… well, bottle!
Liverpool to finish second, behind Man City – All over the news. This seems to have received more coverage than 9/11. I know this blog is just adding to the hype.
Bath City to finish outside the Play Offs – Not officially a prediction, as to my friends, family and fellow supporters, I’ve been saying the opposite all season. I thought being negative about everything, would make my blog post appear better… it works for Jack Dee and Simon Cowell. City did make the Play Offs, so proved me right, but sadly fell short.
While Bath City’s season is well and truly over, and won’t play a competitive game until August; Liverpool have a small matter of a Champions League final, while Leeds remain in the Play Offs – for now!
I predict Liverpool will be victorious, with Leeds ending calamitous. These are my serious predictions, but I would be delighted to jinx things and for Leeds to go up, even if in doing so, it costs my wife’s beloved Reds – sorry, Claire!
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
