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GOODISON PARK SEPT. 1996
Hello. Jack here and I would like to say welcome to all my first time readers, as I am sure you will by now have heard all about me and my weekly piece about window box gardens.
Nah not really, it's all about Boro with a bit of perversion thrown in as well.
So with all that sorted I would like to talk about a trip to Goodison Park in 1996 With Robbo's Red Army.
So it was September 1996 and I was banging some slapper from Saltburn who looked like a fish, funnily enough.
The scenario was her brother and his two mates had decided to take a trip to Blackpool to see the lights that particular weekend, so being quick as a flash, I worked out that my modus operandi was that I could kill two birds with one stone 'ere and get to the game on the pretence of going to Blackpool with a gang of geeky fucking students who I wouldn't normally been seen dead with.
Anyway, late Friday afternoon the fish-a-like bird bade me farewell and told me not to drink too much and behave myself. Oh and don't lead her kid brother astray...
I didn't pay a blind bit of notice as the only way I was gonna get thru' this weekend was getting fucking stinking drunk and sleeping with some very dirty women.
The early omens were not good when the gang of three Guns 'n' Roses fans turned up in one of those little shitty Bedford vans! You know the ones- fucking shite sliding door, fucking things that Matthew used to drive Sooty and Sweep around in on TV.
Great eh? So I made sure I nailed the front seat and then got into some real hard core drinking and sat back and let some cracking farts rip, causing my fellow travellers to accuse each other of being the phantom farter.
So as we made our way across the Pennines, we made a stop at a garage and I introduced my fellow travellers to the age-old tradition of nicking half the shop while travelling to Boro away matches.
As we arrived in Blackpool they informed me that they didn't have enough money for a B&B and the plan was to sleep in the van. No fucking way was I doing that. They would have had my arse as soon as I dozed off. I know these ganja smoking types all to well I thought.
I found one of those nasty £15 a night B&B's ran by a Jock lady with a serious B.O. problem. But I wasn't fussed really. I was half pissed and high as a kite after breathing in all those wacky backy fumes. So I dumped my bag and locked the room door... but it wouldn't lock, so I forced it kind of thing and the fucking door handle fell off!!
I couldn't believe it, the landlady went mental and so I told her in no uncertain terms to fuck right off and I was on the streets at 11.45pm.
So a night in a mini Bedford van with smelly socks and dirty students was the only option, unless I pulled and got somewhere to kip as well as a shag.
So I went night-clubbing, carefully avoiding most of the transsexual bars as I had just seen the film 'The Crying Game' and I didn't fancy a real life re-run.
I found my target. She was a real minger- fat as a whale with a face like a welder from Wallsend's arse, but I figured she was a local lass and would have her own place so I could maybe have a bit of scran and a shower in the morning.
I was so wrong. This bird was an animal- she made me buy her about twenty fucking burgers and then she said that she was married and her husband wouldn't take too kindly to me going home with her unless I fancied shagging her and her mate while her husband joined in! Did I fuck! Her mate was worse than her. It looked like I had stumbled across the Blackpool Weight Watcher's Swinging Club's official night out.
So I took her back to our van, much to the horror of the present incumbents. They must have thought the suspension was gonna break... and so did I as my drink fuelled lust burnt away and I was faced with the full horror of the task I had just started. Indeed, she did sweat much for a fat lass.
So next morning I had a wash in MacDonald's toilets and made my way to Liverpool by train to see the Boro and I must have been kicking up a bit, as on a full train no one would sit next to me. As I said, she was a big girl.
Anyway we won 2-1. Barmby scored his last goal for us before joining Everton and Juninho got the other. I was well happy indeed- mind you it was our last win for months as we went on a major downward spiral that would even impress the Ginsters pasties sponsored Michael Ricketts school of 'how to fuck up your career'.
So a Saturday night in Blackpool ensued and I had to listen to my fellow weekenders talking about the Pepsi Max roller coaster thing they had all been on and shit like that. So I fucked them off and went and got wasted in a bar, which soon filled up with Leeds fans on a stag do.
Well what would you do? I mean I was pissed and happy we had won.
So I went for the jugular and started singing Boro songs, then went and offered them all outside, it was only the timely intervention of a few locals that saved me from a damm good thrashing.
I went back to the Bedford van to find that the three of 'em had all pulled!
So it was my turn to spend a night listening to other people shagging. And the fucking van was stinking as I let rip a couple of lively ones which caused one of the girls to leave the van to throw up outside.
So apart from the Boro win I had a rank weekend and to make matters worse my ugly Saltburn girlfriend found out all about me and my attempt to break the suspension on Sooty and Sweep's van with the fattest girl outside of Gateshead.
Up the Boro
Jack
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