|
 |
EWOOD PARK APRIL 1999
Hello. Jack 'ere! Its been a while, what with illness and a week's break on the wonderfully boring Isle of Wight. But I am here now and ready to roll back the years with some tales of joy and wonder.
Well now hope you're sitting all comfortable like, 'cause I am going to spin a yarn from back in the days of old when men were men and sheep were scared. Yep, we went to Blackburn Rovers.
April 1999 and we had been having our traditional winter slump and everyone was wondering just what the fuck the manager was playing at. Sound familiar? In fact at the time we had just won our first games for nearly three months, so it was more in hope than expectation that I travelled to Lancashire.
At around this time I had broken my leg so I was on crutches but I lived for Boro and drink in these days. Oh and filthy women of course.
The trip was planned by a few different lads. Shame was one of them brought his girlfriend so my usual stealing, farting, reading porn and general lager lout antics had to be put on a back burner for the day.
We set off early on Saturday and I was swigging from a discreet bottle of spirits that I had hidden about my person. There were four in total, three blokes and this bird called Josie or something. She wasn't a bad looker as it turned out so I was keen not to behave in an animalistic manner around her.
Along the way we made a stop at some service station and I hobbled along on my crutches only to be met by some Scousers, Everton fans if I remember rightly. And there was hell on. They where running riot around the place nicking stuff and pissing in the phone boxes and the Old Bill were running around like the Keystone Cops.
The sight of all this trouble, plus the fact that I was well on the way to finishing a litre of Vodka got me all pent up inside and full of the red mist and I soon forgot our female companion and her feminine charms.
So I got into a scrap straight away with mouthy twat in the shop. He made several not too flattering comments about Boro, so I whacked him one with my crutches...
...which in turn led to a ten man brawl in the shop. Some sod kicked my good leg from under me and I was well and truly poll axed. I couldn't move and when the Old Bill swarmed in, I couldn't leg it like every fucker else, could I?
Well I got nicked, as half the shop had been lifted by the thieving Scouse twats and who better to lay the blame on then the poor bugger in agony on the shop floor with about twenty fucking different kind of chocolate bars all around him.
My mates did the decent thing. Ran like bloody fuck and sent the bird back to find me. And the Old Bill nabbed her as well!
This was a nightmare. This poor girl had never been to a Boro away match in her life and had been nicked first time. And the poor lass wasn't even from Grove Hill. I reckon Nunthorpe, probably because she looked the posh, well dirty type. As I lay on the shop floor, I thought about how much I would like her to lie here with me in all this chocolate, mate's girlfriend or not.
Anyway I was roused from my erotic designs on my mate's girlfriend when the police started asking questions. Who I was? Where I was going? etc., but I told them to fuck off. It didn't exactly help the situation to be honest.
Even so, they conceded that I did need hospital treatment so under police escort, I was taken to some local hospital and was checked over by some very sexy nurses who all obviously fancied me.
All the while a copper was guarding me and I took many a dig at the heavy handed policing methods involved so far and asked him just who did he think I was? Some kind of service station mafia don?
Anyway I was free to go and the Old Bill had kindly allowed the poor distressed girl to be released, after realising that we weren't Middlesbrough's answer to Bonnie and Clyde on a day trip to Lancashire.
So after I received an official police caution for being drunk and disorderly, me and the bird Decided that the train home would be the best solution, under the circumstances.
So as you can imagine this poor distraught girl needed a shoulder to cry on and young Jack was eager to offer her all his sympathy and the fucking rest.
So as any healthy dirty young lad would, I got her pissed on the train then spent the rest of the journey telling her how nice her eyes were and all that bollocks.
My charms fell on deaf ears as this girl proceeded to bore the fucking pants off me.
She was only one of these bloody leftie gob shite social workers and I had it all the way back to Darlo about all kinds of crap that I really couldn't give a flying fart about.
So on getting back to Boro, this girl was keener than normal to check that in my injured state, I would get home safely but silly me. I forgot my house keys and my folks were away on holiday. The old tricks never fail, do they?
Surprise, Surprise. Plan B worked well and she invited me to spend the night at hers and I was kind of getting the feeling that she may be up for a bit of one legged leg over type thing. And I was well fucking horny by this time, I tell ya.
Back at her place we had a few drinks and at one point I got up to hobble to the loo but slipped and fell over into one of those glass coffee tables and broke the bloody thing. It made one hell of a noise and this caused her old man to come down. He wanted to know exactly what the hell was going on and who this twat was drinking his brandy?
Then the front doorbell rang. It was my mate, her boyfriend, back from the game and he wanted to know what the fuck was going on as well with me being at his girlfriend's at this late hour.
Needles to say I was well and truly rumbled about my 'parents being away' story and this resulted in several blows being swung in my direction by my now ex-mate.
My crutches came to my aid again but by this time, the next-door neighbours had rung the police who promptly nicked me and my mate for trashing this poor geezer's house. What a day, eh?
The game was 0-0 and crap, so I heard. Just in case you were wondering.
All the best
Up the Boro
Jack.
BACK TO FLASHBACKS INDEX
 |
|
|
|
