2008/09 Diaries

2008/09 Diaries
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Terrorism, arrests, shitty high chairs . . .
PrestonAways greatest season???

Tales of Domestic duty:
Motherwell Away by Blacky        Ipswich Away by Gaz,        Sheffield Wednesday Away by Gaz,
Coventry Away by Gaz,       Burnley Away by Blacky,        Sheffield United Away by Gaz,
Blackpool Away by Gaz,        Wolves Away by Gaz,         Swansea Away by Blacky,
Reading Away by Gaz,          Southampton Away by Gaz,        Nottingham Forest Away by Mash,
Charlton Away by Blacky,         Bristol City Away by Gaz,        Doncaster Away by Gaz,
Sheffield United Away in Playoffs by Gaz

Tales of International duty:
PNE in Austria by Blacky,        Pakistan Away by Blacky,        Belarus Away by Blacky,
Germany Away by Blacky,     Hatton in Las Vegas by Blacky,        India Away by Blacky,
Hatton in Vegas by Blacky 2,        Kazakhstan Away by Blacky,        England U21 in Sweden Euro 09 by Blacky

PNE in Austria by Blacky

It all started on a Wednesday night as we headed to Stansted and onto Salzburg for the rental car which was
to take us to Munich for a big night on the tiles in Bavaria for pre-season with Hurricaine, Atky and Grimble.
Eventually find the hotel after trial and error and as the lads head
out for a spot of sightseeing, 16 hours travelling has fucked me
so i'm off to bed. Lads return with some "shit hot" information on
a bar crawl, so it's decided we'll terrorise this tonight. So we get
to the bar for unlimited supping for 2 hours. We fly the English
drinking flag with honour supping 17 litre's of beer and 3 litres of
Sangria in 2 hours leaving the 4 Aussies in our shadows, 8 Yanks
in awe, 8 Spanish in disgust and 2 Canadians worshipping us, It
was worth the 15 Euro just for that. In the 2 hour we've taught our
"Foriegn Allies" Rule Britannia, and while going from bar to bar
each pub get's left with it ringing in there steins. One snake thinks
he copped off with a chink only for her to tell him that "Wour
dannshing too clossssshhheeeee" - Gutted. The guide pours
around 50 shots of
some shit, most have one or two shots leaving me and Hurricaine to hoover the remaining 20 up between
us like fucking animals, The "allies" were shocked, Canadians chuffed. We eventually make it to Beerhaus
were Hitler used to deliver rousing speeches, the guide said he would walk us through. The Ommpah band
was about to play, however they had spotted us and the “allies” and was waiting for us to leave, but we was
waiting for them, so they started to proceed with caution! I was
pissing my sides as we all started to do a disco rave to this brass
band, even funnier was some Japanese who got up on the one of
the tables and started dancing, thinking it was the norm. Security
called and upon leaving we and the fellow 20 odd allies left the
beer house to a rapturous chorus of Rule Britannia, funny thing
was only around 20% were English. We are eventually that pissed
it’s just me and Atky attempting to make our way home via me
tripping over a tram line with my pants at my ankles. Atky ends
up asleep in a bush.
It's decided on waking up it's a good call to get the hell out of
Munich before we are chased out, so without too much a do, half
cut i'm doing a ton sixty down the Autobahn. Not long before we
enter Salzburg. Out and about we have a few beers, but this isn't
before Atky gets caught out doing a Borat "how much" at 2 tarts
and them understanding every word, retrun a barage of "ginger" abuse for his troubles. We end up in a
Gentleman's club were one snake has a "Turkish delight" after being recommended by Bruce a Cockney
bar owner where we'd ceased supping.
Match days arrives and we've got the Bamber bridge of Austria, F.C. Hallein, It's only 20 miles from Salzburg
so we spend the morning dossing around town before
heading to see my biggest ever Preston win, 11-0. There's about
20 fans including former old timer Nobby, who we organise a
rendezvous for later that night. Good to there word we meet for
drinks at Bruceys and with a few locals brews in us we was
never going to miss a chance to let people know who was in
town. Salzburg is a singers paradise with narrow streets echoing
like hell, so to enhance British relations abroad we sang them a
song. Coldplay? Was it fuck, Rule Britainnia followed by GSTQ as
we entered Salzburg main square packed with 800 drinkers,
panic ensued as bouncers locked up and people partied to let us
through not really sure what to do. They must have thought we
had 50 in tow, no only 6. People was high fiving us, not quite the
reception you expect when 6 pissed up English have just took
you square. We run proceedings for a few minutes and decide it wasn’t worth the invasion and we head
back to the digs.
Sunday we head back to the airport drop the car off and back home after a right tip top trip.

Morecombe Away by Mash

I decided to drive the short trip up M6 to Morecombe.

Off to pick Conway up, who's late as fuck, then to the Bronx to pick Seb up, leaving quickly before someone
tries shooting us and finally Duck. Booze is on the menu and the trip was only to say "we'd been to
Morecombe, more of a piss up really.

Arrive and straight to Toby Carvery, were it was tempting just to stay all day but again we decide to go on
with 3 kids and a adult. 3-0 up after 10 minutes and we're distraught to find no bar, 20 minutes in and we are
seriously contemplate fucking game off but stick it to half time.

60th minute and we've had it cha, we've have our monies worth apart from a adult paying Seb,

So back to Preston to join Gaz's and Lyndons birthday bash, suprisingly finishing in Squires.

Motherwell Away by Blacky

Next was a trip North of the border to Motherwell, The Moscow
of the U.K. It had only been organised 20 hours before kick off
and was more of a social outting. Grimble had headed up in a
seperate car nicknamed the "Mobile Bingo Hall" with the
average age of its occupants being 86. He tried to have us off
with a knock off Stone Island jumper called Pebble Island and
was later seen on his arse in a flower bed. A few McEwans
were nice and cool but as for fried pizza, pie or blackpudding
was a little too much of flirting with a heart attack.
Game was just that a game, but a few new faces met and
a national anthem we are heading back south were apparently
we had a blow out. I don't quite know were that come from but
someone told me a few weeks later of which I had some
struggle remembering.

Ipswich Away by Gaz

Me, Blacky Seb and Mash headed to Ipswich. It was a strange trip, not so much for going on the 'offish'
Coaches, more so that "Deputy Dogg" reminised about
banning two hoodlums for having booze on the same fixture
the previous year, little knowing he was telling the exact
hoodlums.

The trip was quick as we had the pleasure of dealing with
some "not rights", having crack with "DD" and myself having
to put up with 70 year old Elsie grinding her "tired" body again
st my flat as a pancake cock as she did some strange flirting
with me calling me "that big fat bastard from Hull". As we got
to Ipswich we had 1/2 hour to get pissed, I ate 5 pints including
the glass and Seb spiked himself with Vodka. After a shit start
we got the result we wanted then flirted with danger on the
way home as we decided to gamble and supp our alcoholic
supplies.

Sheffield Wednesday Away by Gaz

Our 2nd trip of the season was over the Pennines to Hillsborough. I gave BIG RED a run out with Blacky,
Gordy and Mash present.

On arrival straight to the Lusher in the pleasant Pudding sunshine. Blacky, backed up by Dutch courage,
tried getting on for a OAP, no luck.

After a bore draw it was back to the car and attempt to get back to Preston, It got off to a bad start as we
nearly ended up on the dog track, It was all going swimmingly until Blacky managed to retrieve his head
from a big bag of family bag Hula Hoops to find we was at the Trafford Centre, but took him 2 minutes to
regain his composure to tell us of our fate.

Coventry Away by Gaz

Coventry saw our first choo-choo trip of the season. Present was myself, Blacky, Belter and Duck. On the
Train we took Scottish Sam under the wing as Belter necked a pint of Brandy-Orange.

Coming home from QPR previous season we'd had a meet with
some top Coventry lads and said we'd meet for a drink in the
Wheatsheaf so upon arrival, we hide our spare ale in a binand
head off to the Wheatsheaf to watch Liverpool v Man United. By
this time we was all fucked, Belter was topless, Blacky had fallen
down a hill and was helpless to get up, we'd also lost 2 tickets,
so blagging was the new way of entry.

Blacky lasted all of 5 minutes before he was thrown out before
re-entering and getting thrown out again. Arrested twice in a hour
was right bad news, and it didn't help that when he was pulled up
in cuffs and his jeans fell down leaving a copper to pull them up.

I got in by checking the ticket in the machine and passing the
ticket back under the turnstyle to be used again - Genius. What
wasn't Genius was dropping a pint on another North Ender who wasn't best pleased by all accounts.

Finally tracked Blacky down to his place of rest as we set off home, Mash got his ale from the bin and it
wasn't long before Blacky was asleep again at Crewe attracting quite an audience including some old bill
insistent on giving his mouth to mouth as I and Duck went in search of ale. rumour had it one of lads went
with a "14" year old while Blacky lay inconcious, but this all unconfirmed reports.

Pakistan Away by Blacky

Flights were being booked, hotels reserved and illegal drinking establishments sussed out, days off took for
visas from the Pakistan consulate in Manchester and me and Spiv were all ready for the ICC Champions
trophy. That was till come June were Al Qieda were to change everyones plans as they were bombing 'ewt
that moved and this spelled the end of the ICC Champions dream, Fuck the Cricket, I would go on my own
Spiv or no Spiv just for a long weekend in
islamabad.

Wednesday night in Manchester Airport, and the Terminal 2 is
desolate apart big beards and black pillar-boxes with kids in
tow, and baggage trolleys piled high as a kite -oh and there’s
one big fat whiter fucker in the middle of it all this mayhem
with a weekend bag. At Check in when I flash my ticket and
passport at the help desk, I end up being upgraded. The plane
had a ever so slight odour of curry house on a Saturday night,
I was the only white trash on the plane. With a refuelling stop
in Trabzon, Turkey, It’s not long before we make Islamabad
airport in one piece.

Passport stamped and it’s not long before I’m getting into my taxi for the 200 mile trip through the heartland
of the Punjab to Lahore. And at 20 quid, it’s a steal. The journey was a real eye opener, some villages looked
like a yank airstrike had just been called. Finally arrive at the hotel, well, The bathroom window is just a hole
which overlooks what can only be described as an arms dump 1 stray cig and we’re all history cha!’ I toast
my first night in Pakistan with a chicken curry and a bottle of Coke.

On the Friday We should have been heading the 5 miles to the Rawalpindi Cricket Stadium for the South
Africa game, unfortunately not to be, instead I was going on a Lahore city tour. No surprise when a Nissan
rolls up at the hotel for the tour, only three blokes inside it, one with a gun, certainly was. I was informed
that it was necessary to have security for Westerners. This is where it really hit me and started to sink in
that the gaff was fucking well dodgy. I’m in a car with 3 total strangers, one armed to the arsehole, and
questions like ‘just what the fuck am I doing in Pakistan on my
own’ kept flashing into my head. Anyway, composure
restored, the morning was spent pretty much doing the usual
tourist claptrap. Lahore Fort, Lahore Zoo,Mosque here, Jinnah
there, shrine that, sacred relic everywhere. And all I'm
thinking is ‘its fucking roasting and stinks of shit. It was also
Ramadan while I was there, and my understanding of Dam’s
and lorry with explosives was wrong. So, in the afternoon my
escort are obliged to go to pray. I’m happy enough with that
as it gives me time to fill my face, have a shower and got 30
winks before they return later in the afternoon. Ever since I
began to travel these obscure places, I’ve an ever expanding
list of ‘must see’s” and this included the nightly toe to toe
between Pakistani and Indian troops in an aggressive flag
lower ceremony in a makeshift arena as locals on each side scream and shout obscenities across the 20
foot of no-man’s land. So, my wish is fulfilled. While there I’ve to put up with some bullshit from a local who
wants me to sponsor him to come to the U.K. as he wants to see Birmingham Palace? I give him the big
swerve and do one. Funnily enough we finish off in a famous chippy in Lahore were they serve battered
spicy fish. That wasn’t the only thing that took a battering that night as did the hotel toilet after that.

The next day I’m woke early, at 5am to be precise, as
someone from a Mosque started wailing and it nearly makes
my ears bleed. I somehow managed to get my head back
down and end up oversleeping. When I finally rise and show
my face, the 3 boy in my tour party aren’t all too pleased at all.
But to hell with them, or to hell with me was more apt as we
headed out north of Lahore. Now for all I know this could have
been the old Kidknapp scenario, where it’s the old blunt dull
blade across the neck. Luckily for me it was trip to some
palace before heading back to Lahore then onto the old British
Museum and reminisce about the ‘good old days’ of the Raj.
We also managed to fit in a visit to the impressive Gaddaffi
Stadium. You should know that in my experience, any country
that displays stars on their flags, there nothing but trouble. I
was to find this out and would find there was no truer saying
with what was due to go down in Islamabad that evening. A
few photo’s later we’re off into Lahore market. One of the old
boys had me down to a Tee and suggests a massage would do
me the world of good. My eyes twinkle like a Christmas tree
and even more so on seeing the talent as such. Anyway, it
wasn’t a happy ending for those with dirty minds but
pleasurable just the same to have a bit of exotic fanny
rubbing your tired imperialist shoulders as 60 people watched
on in amazement. It now seemed everything was running well on my ‘Blackystan Away.’ But little did I know
that the shit hadn't hit the fan yet. As we’re walking through the quite aptly named Thieves Market, the three
official guides looking after yours truly are approached by the Pakistan Old Bill. I start thinking ‘this is going
cost a bit wedge with the old excuse of immigration papers not in order, a hair out of place or some other
implausible discrepancy. I begin chilling as my lads are in dialogue until I’m told I must go with the Pakistan
boys in blue, and I’ve no need to panic. NO
NEED TO PANIC! I'm being arrested by the Pakistan police!
I've seen ‘Banged up Abroad’ in Pakistan and it's looking very
fucking grim. I refuse to go with them and giving the old ‘I
want to talk to my embassy’ spiel, but it ain’t working. One of
the tour guide informs me that there has been a huge terrorist
attack and a curfew has fallen on all Westerners to return to
their place of residence, or hotel. With a promise that I’m not
being lifted it’s in to the Pakistan meat wagon, sirens wailing,
and we literally take-off through the hectic city of Lahore, full
steam ahead. I again begin wondering what the fucks going on
and what’s going to happen because I really can’t help but
feel slightly up shit creek. I don’t have a clue or understand
what any of the Punjabi ranting and raving is about coming
from the rozzers up front. Is it a good old Asian bumming in
the cells back at the station? Put on the next plane without any
of my gear? Holed up somewhere for a hefty ransom? Or
even sold to the Taliban to make an appearance on worldwide
TV? I was shitting bricks, albeit soft ones. Eventually we pull
up at the hotel and I’m free to go. Phew! When I enter the
hotel things start to fall into place as the TV is full of the nights events. Me and my mate had originally
booked into the Marriott Islamabad for the ICC Champions Trophy, but with the cancelation of the
tournament, I decided against staying in Modern Islamabad and opted for cultural Lahore. The 5* hotel I
remembered from the brochure with its luxury surroundings was now in flames and a mass grave to 54
innocents – THE TALIBAN HAD STRUCK HOME. The authorities stressed that I should only leave the hotel
for essential, urgent business. And that my guide, driver and security fella would have to escort me at all
times. Now this was a challenge to me if ever there was
one. I was told the Embassy would also assist in getting me
home safe and sound. I only found out later that British
Airways had suspended all flight to and from the country – I
was stranded in Pakistan. When I got to my room, I’d left my
mobile phone there which had been switched-off. And as soon
as I turned it on it was red hot with people worrying their
tits-off all night. No more so than my mam who was on holiday
in Spain and suspected the worst about her little boy as she
kept getting the failed to connection tone.

Next morning the lads turned up as usual and asked if I want
to go to a church or temple - like fuck I do. So instead it’s to the
main park in Lahore, which come Sunday is like 50 cricket
pitches rolled into one. Creases run through other pitches and stumps are back-to-back. Anyway it’s not
long before I’ve got a bat in my hand and after a slow start there struggling to get me out. When they did it
was my turn to bowl, I was awful, an embarrassment to the St George flag. You can’t be good at everything
though, can you? What you going to do when your in a nation freshly wounded from a massive terrorist
attack they called the “Pakistan" 9/11? Jump aboard a train on the
most bombed stretch of railway in the world, the Karachi -
Islamabad line. A quick trip to the small village of Raiwind was
had where there was nothing too spectacular other than I seemed
the centre of attention for being the only fat Brit in attendance.
So it’s back to Lahore and the last supper was to commence, but
not before they had one last suprise. I was off to meet Pakistans
national wrestling champion, While not David Beckham status I
was told he was perhaps Russel Brand (don't say that to his face)
standard to us. So as guest of honour in VIP seats, I sit through
some fat cunts knock 7 bells out of one another, but there was
only one attraction keeping the crowd transfixed and that seemed
to be me. So I said before, I’d promised the lads a slap up meal
for a great few days and cheeky twats choose one of the most
prestigious restaurants in Lahore, the place all dignitaries’ fill there snooty faces. I could see this costing an
arm and a leg, be it a suicide bomb or just a big dint on the Pakistan Rupee’s I had in my wallet. We arrive at
the gaff only there’s one slight problem, I can’t enter because I’ve shorts on and they don’t want to offend
the high class women dining here. Wasn’t as though I had Speedo’s on and my tackle hanging out. After
trying several pieces of clothing, all 5 sizes too small, I’m let in following a dropsy of Rupee but put in the
shadows out of public viewing! Saying that I’ve to admit it was well worth it. For the four of us it worked out
less than £30. They was chuffed, I was chuffed. The rest of the night smoking local stuff, eating and drinking.
It’d been a great last supper for me, but one thing I forgot to mention to my tour group was this was there
last supper with me and my last night in Lahore? I’d hatched an escape plan to get out of Pakistan. This
wasn’t going to be easy as I was under curfew but neither was escaping Stalag Luft III.

So at 4am the next morning I rise, shower, pack my bag, a bribe
paid to night watchman, sneak out of the hotels backdoor, into a
taxi and make to Lahore airport with a very real risk of getting
arrested. As per usual in Asia one rule in Central Lahore isn’t a
rule in Eastern Lahore and in no time at all I’m through passport
control and onto a plane to Islamabad - the city bombed only 36
hours previously. Anyway, a visit to the Pakistani International
Airlines office and another few Rupees lighter, I managed myself
a flight home with only a 8 hour wait however I still can’t check
in for another 5 hours, so I’m sat there like a sitting duck. Then
paranoia kicks in and I once again start suspecting everybody as
being potential Taliban material, I’m getting a lot of attention. So
much so the police assign me an officer to starve any potential
nutter. I’m eventually on the plane and taking my seat at rear
of the jet thinking of home-sweet-home and getting some shut eye. That’s until some Brummie twat begins
chewing my ear off about how good Islam is and how I should convert. After several minutes of strained
patience, I just fucking lose it and end up giving it him straight with now some rather attentive and
interested passengers as an audience. Things weren’t lucking rosy at all. The odds aren’t in my favour and it
looks likely I’ll get thrown off. The airhostess comes over to see what all the commotion is about and my
punishment is an upgraded to business class again – WINNER.

I finally land back in Manchester and head home for a long awaited rest, surely I’ve cracked it? Only it’s
never over to you get back to your manor and put the key in the front-door. I had one last task before I could
finish this chapter. It wasn’t falling asleep at the wheel or some Manc scally had had the motor off, It was
much much more worse than that – I had the raving shits. These bad guts had been residence over the last
few days and there was no fucking chance on this earth I was
going to make it home without a disaster in my boxers. I clenched
my cheeks as hard as I could just enough to reach Horwich
Services and do a crab like run to the doors to find the fuckers
well and truly shut. I remember thinking I’m in the shit here,
almost literally. I tried to soldier on but there was no chance, I
was in big trouble here I can tell you, and knowing for sure I won't
make it back to mine divert off at Chorley driving almost stood up
down a dark road to Botany Bay Antiques Mill begging the
almighty for my muscles not to relax. I end up with my arse over
a road barrier and letting my guts go. In a 20 second barrage of
pure filth, I empty my guts. The next problem is, I’m not a bloke
that carries toilet paper around with me and the only thing I had
was an Designer PLR polo-shirt or a Pakistan newspaper I’d took
as a souvenir. A full newspaper later, it’s a crime I’d have to try and deny if anyone stumbles on the self
levelling body waste. The rest of my 15 mile journey is incident free.

Looking back on events in Pakistan 18 months later, I quite often ask my sin ridden soul if I would out
myself through that again. Would I? All day long I would take that, you don’t get that kind of bollocks in
Brussels, Paris or Berlin. The only advice I would offer is, just be careful as you go now.

Burnley Away by Blacky

Back on domestic duty, it was like going back to Pakistan with a big crew of us going Burnley - Me, Gaz,
Belter, Seb, Gordy, Laura Swin, Kayleigh, Gordy M, Maxi and Sarge. Got off to a bad start when Gaz turns up
but forgot the fucking car would you believe.

Eventually on our way down the M65 when Maxi nearly sets fire to Big Red, all the while everyone's getting
shock's of there life in Belters car as Sargie talks about his sexual exploits, all 5 seconds of it. On arrival its
to the cricket club for beers before heading to the ground were Burnley are at it as they try to have a pop at
Sargey and Maxi, but upon seeing yours truly soon ran once he sore his mates had. Anyway piss poor game
and glad to get away from the fucking 1920's cesspit.

It was almost chops for tea as Gaz nearly mows a sheep down, lucky for the sheep and big red it was a
"close shave". We was just glad to get this one behind us.

Belarus Away by Blacky

First England football trip of the season is upon us and its Belarus away with 2 virgins - Mash and Hurricane.
A few rashers in thee and VIP style seeing off (My ma' still aint over the Islamabad bombing) and to
Heathrow via picking Hurricane up at Frodsham.
Stop over near Heathrow and up early morning to get to the
airport were we are introduced to a Sunderland fan who
frequents PrestonAway, Mac and his mate Tommy. Through all
the bull shit that now goes with flying we have a small contingent
of around 30 also doing the same Czech route via Prague. Late
leaving Heathrow we wasn't the most popular folk at Prague as
they held the Plane held for us 30.
Arrive in the Soviet throwback of Minsk. We all get in with
ease apart from Mash, so eventually when he books his idea's up
we're in and away to the "palace". Once in, bags dumped and out
for some scran and ale and with 3 litres of beer and 3 large
vodka's at £6 it's going to be a heavy night cha. The nights
finished with 2 local naked birds roaming the "palace" . . .
Apparently.
Keeping up the great British reputatation we have abroad
we decide to do our cultural bit and head off to see the devastation
the krauts caused at Khatyn, a village raised to the ground in WW2, also the lad running the trip more
importantly had our tickets. We finish off in the a hotel bar where we meet many a troop from long ago, but
the beers are 5 fucking quid, so fuck that for a game of soldiers so
it's back to the previous nights haunt, were one of the lads see's
an old flame and the bar staff look rather edgy tonight after 25
"Skins" singing GSTQ took over the gaff. Our "palace" is getting
a bit of a reputation and god knows what the neighbours think as
some of the lads end up getting some flesh from a fucking BUS
STOP at 2.30AM.
Up with the larks I'm out for a mooch and after some
breakfast I make my way towards the groundI Get in and the
pitch looks rough, isn't painted and isn't long before security are
throwing me out. Back to the room to meet the boys and we get
some scran and meet Spiv and Scouse on the 50p litres of beer.
Tommy, Craig, Binnsy and entourage arrive. The beers are going
down swimmingly and England have took over the small area of
Minsk much to the suspicion of the natives. We bless it with a few
GSTQ's, Rule Britannia's, 10 German bombers etc etc. We are
offered a "toe to toe" with number 23 hooligan in whole of Belarus,
however he still has to perfect his communication as he asks in
the hearing radius of the Belarussian Old Bill. Its also come back to
me that we was being tailed by a lovely little tart, who only turned
out to be undercover Belarussian KGB, so no wonder it didn't go
down well as I serenaded her with Kinks by Lola and offered to
leave a bit of a English deposit between her legs. Its that time
and we head off to the Dinamo stadium and in with the locals in the Belarussian end. Through check point
one, through check point two, through check point three and again I have breached security in another part
of the world on behalf of my nation. Standard national anthem and around 1,000 sets of eyes are on all 10 of
us, but we don't give a fuck. Some locals want photos and being the good folk that we are we oblige. Back to
the flat for a quick kip and isn't long before we are arriving back in Heathrow via prague. Mash cracks me up
all the way home making prank calls about bears in service station car parks and stories of him shitting
himself.

Sheffield United Away by Gaz

Sheffield United was our first overnighter of the season and we had a birthday boy in Conway on board
along with me, Mash, Blacky, Gordy, Seb, Ducky and Maxi. We'd got supping supplies in at ASDA which also
excitedly brough about the viewing of a old lads favourite - Frenchy.

We set off to Manchester to meet Duck who suprise suprise was
late so half waited and half set off for Sheffield. The second lot
made friends as you do with a bird called Rebecca who
regardless that she was on her way to work supped happily, This
was while Ed told some bird he'd love to stick his helmet in to
her! We was thrown out of 'Spoons number one as Conway
mistakenly took a sink for a urinal. We made it to 'Spoons 2 but
was banned for being too rowdy, enough was enough, we was
off to check in, leaving Ed and Conway in the hope this would
give us half a chance of checking in. We eventually get some
African befriending us and decided he wants to go on the game,
so taxi's to the ground. This is were the debacle starts. Ed's
refused entry along with Mash and Conway. It wasn't till later on
back at base we was one man down and a phone call to the old
bill found one had been arrested. third arrest of the season. We sup back at base waiting for the accused to
return of which he does to chants of "your going down with the Spurrrsssss".

Some went for a curry, some went to 'Spoons number 3. It wasn't long before we was banned from there
after a rather unsavoury game. As the night continued we all seemed to pair off which left Blacky and
Gordie locked out sleeping in a corridor as Duck was about stealing Gordies food.

Next day the group split into two as some wanted to carry on supping while others had other business to
attend to. With a landslide on the train track it took longer than anticipated but we all got Home eventually.
One lad was back in the week to answer to his charges of entering a Sports Arena pissed, he was found
guilty with a hefty fine.

Blackpool Away by Blacky

Our final away game of 2008 took us to the hamlet at
the bottom of the M55, we'd been to Wigan for Maxi's
birthday night before and the talk was all about the
attempted rape of Gordie. Anyway, me, Mash, Maxi
and his dad and Laura Swin had a derby to get to,
while others dashed to a feckin christening. On what
was a beautiful day, we beat the fucking rentboys 3-1
which left a pleasant taste in ones mouth for our
domestic 2008 season.

Germany Away by Blacky

With Away trips finished for 2008 at domestic level, we still had 3 huge International trips before year out
and the first was 6 of us going Berlin for the "friendly". Me,
Hurricane, Jonny E, Gaz, Duck and Stu head to Manchester were
we nearly miss our flight due to Burger King. Fly to Ireland for a 5
hour piss up before leaving without problem to the relief of a
thankful Guardia. Arrive Berlin, straight in no problems down to
the "meatwagon", this being a train carriage for England fans only
with a scattering of 20 Robocops, It was a nice touch! Pull in to
Alexanderplatz and a waiting committee has formed, 10 English
old Bill who are fairly eager to have a word with us, we are in for
count and usual questions commence - Name, team, address
before we are set free in to the rainy Berlin evening. Taxi to
apartments dump our gear and here we are, England away in
Berlin cha.
A good feed is due so off to the steak house before meeting
up with Spiv and his lads who'd only done the honours and secured us tickets for the game. The night gets
on and some fancy a gentlemans club, so again the group splits in to two as some go to a bar and the others
head to the sauna. It's 3am before we leave East Berlin and as I get back Ducks creeping around in the
fucking shadows for some reason. Next day I head on a city tour
as the rest please themselves before we eventually meet up
again and head to the ground were we find a cracking bar, hang
flags and get on the ale. This powder keg fixture had the potential
to blow and that it did as 500 Germans used 'ewt they could get
there fucking hands on to launch at the England fans, all the while
we was baton charged and tear gassed by the Kraut old bill. The
Germans then decided there best chance of ever winning an
argument was to attack the straight fans at the England turnstyle.
Eventually make it to the turnstle we're going to try and jib into
with the wrong tickets and it resembles a war zone, glass
everywhere, eventually get in the England end and its a right
result, til we find it was only a turnstyle and were mixed again,
what was the fucking point in that then? Some get in the England
end with the wrong tickets, some don't. Once we sung the
national anthem in there end i was happy to leave but was glad i
didn't as we snatched a fucking win on there manor. Now the ride
back on the train was immense, packed full of English with GSTQ,
10 German bomber and Rule Britainnia ringing out. Arrive back in
central Berlin and we head for a few pints and a bite as sirens are
screaming out. We lose one lad who fancies shooting his fat in a
street walker, but my fate was different as I headed back, packed
my bag and had a bath as i had a 6.30am flight to Las Vegas to catch . . .

Hatton in Las Vegas by Blacky

After 3 days in rainy Berlin It was a early start As i headed to berlin airport for the great escape. 12 hours sat
next to some Mexican gangster wannabe with his story's and "Ross Kemp on gangs" book I arrived in
Chicago. I begin my "I'm British let me in" swagger. However G.I.
Joe had different idea's and just wasn't happy with my Pakistan
stamp from my previous month's red herring. I'm pulled into an
office for an hour for along the lines of Why did you go Pakistan?
How long for? Who do you know? Whats their phone/email?
Where did you go? What did you see blah de blah de blah to the
point of nutting the cunt. Anyway an armed escort and scooter
car ride to my palne I'm escorted out of Chicago to the
bemusement of some passengers.
Arrive in Vegas and not long before i'm supping £1.50 Bud's
in the Stratosphere. After a few drinks with mates we head to a all
you can eat buffet at the Sahara, there face's dropped like a sack
of shit when big lad turned up and all of a sudden it shut at 10pm.
Still made a hefty dent in it like.
Wake up for a swim in the beautiful late November Nevada sun before I do some serious damage on credit
card as i get my designer threads in. Back to hotel have a few beers with the entourage before heading
down to the MGM for a few beers with Spiv who has also travelled and to see the weigh in. Excuses made
we head back tot eh Stratosphere and it's not long before Shazza has us on the top. We decided to take a
ride, 1200 feet up on the ride Insania. It takes a bit of breathing in and a lot of he ho-ing to get the beef
strapped in, but we are in eventually, Good ride but the security bar won't fucking open, I'm stuck fast in the
cunt. The security bar won't open. I'm just getting ready for a night stuck in with a few beers and McD's
when I'm released and a free man. Finish the night with few beers and a huge chinky, knowing i'd never get
in that ride now, So I'm left to my own devices at the roulette
table. So I change my $150 in to chips and within 1/2 hour I'm at
$863. Its good enough for me cha, So I cash in and off to bed.
Wake up look over bed side cabinet and theres $863 in $100's,
a $50, a $10 and $1's. I'm like what the fuck, then it dawns on me
- WINNER. Up to the pool for a bit of R&R and a bit of a crack with
a scouser who was on my roulette table who'd got to $1400 but
settled for $400 and some southerner who reckon he trained the
US air force - I took his word for that. A huge feed and a few
beers led me to meet Pete, a Chelsea lad, were we passed half a
hour before my entourage turned up, few beers to steady pre
fight nerves before heading down to MGM for a few beers with
Spiv and Di, just making it in time before Ricky emerged.
Job Done and we exit all glorious and rather happy with
ourselves as we weave through the MGM to raptures of "there's only one Ricky Hatton" as onlookers can
only look amazed as 7,000 Brit's make there way out for a pavement disco. Security try there best but one
guys going do fuck all. We make it in to the safety of the Monte Carlo as Ricky Hattons name rings down the
strip. One last bash on roulette comes up trumps winning $135 off $50 making my trip total a sweet $998. I'm
calling it a night as I have to be up at 5.30 am to get my flight home, arriving Manchester some 20 hours later.

India Away by Blacky

Our last trip of 2008 seen PrestonAway head to India for Englands final test match of the series. So
Manchester to Heathrow to Abu Dhabi and problems aplenty already. The flights to Mumbai has been
changed to 8 hours later and I have everything booked to rights. So I'm giving it the "this aint good enough"
malarky, and just to shut me up I manage to blag a direct flight to Delhi in buisness class, and as a "gesture
of goodwill" i'm put in buisness class lounge with free food, beer, showers and a personal escort to the
flight - Bargain.
Arrive in to Delhi, a quick passage through customs and it
leaves me 1/2 a hour to get to the train station in the hectic
capital of India - He's only drove like a maniac and fucking made
it, Chuffed to fuck I was, till I find its the wrong station. It's been
30 hour since leaving my gaff and it's tail between legs. I make a
subdued way through the subway system of Delhi to the correct
station arrive 20 minutes after the train was due to leave, but in
India nothing runs smoothly and i'm on to a winner, it's been
delayed by 4 hours. Eventually arrive in to Chandigarh, but
nearly miss getting off it as the cunt of a guard didn't wake me up,
so I rush off the train in just my shorts and end up getting
dressed proper on the platform much to the disgust of the locals,
straight to my hotel for a shower and some tucker and i'm
pounding the streets in search of a ticket. Being India there's no ticket booths, you buy them 5 miles away
from a Bank, so eventually i make play albeit 1 hour late. In 60 hours I'd had about 6 hours sleep and my
body was telling me
i was getting to old for this caper, after a few beers and half the chicken population of India all was good
again.
Next day was into the Barmy Army stand, flag erect and the
2nd day was almost as painful as the first day as India had been
in for nearly 2 days. Day 3 got a bit naughty, as we ended up
ransacking a police wagon, we was like a fucking army, Police
sticks, caps, helmets and shields, we’d been in the fucking gun
cupboard had we been able, We was patrolling around like the
boys 100 years ago and not a splutter from the old bill. That was
till the next day when the big inquest started and everyone was
getting questioned to were all the gear had gone. Skulls were
rolling at H.Q. Anyway we was having a few foggy mornings with
the cricket sometimes starting 2 hours after schedule, but this
suited us right down to the ground as it give us extra drinking
time the night before. One of the best nights was the “Local
boozer crawl”, this was a right
rum do of visiting boozers off the beaten track, were only the locals knocked about and categorically ripped
apart, however this ended on a sour note as we got a lock in but the old bill turned up, attempted to knock
the door down as 15 English escaped through the back door into
a back street and scarpered, funny as. I’d love to be a illegal
immigrant cha. Anyway as with Israel, Estonia, Germany, The
Ukranian boxing magazine,
I sort of became a celebrity overnight. I don’t quite undertstand
why this happens but it was top heavy, needing a police escort
from the ground and one night a riot broke of which the riot police
had to attend with what equipment we hadn’t nicked to quell
photo/autograph hunters.
It was planned to head down to the pit of Mumbai, but by this
time I’d met John and Seth and they was doing my head in with
overtime of heading down to Goa for Christmas, and to be fair a
30 hour train journey of which I was only on a waiting list had
about as much appeal as aids. Before I know it I’m in a fucking
4x4 Delhi bound with 4 other English lads with one journey I will
never forget. With a crate of Kingfisher we drive in fog so dense the visibility was about 2 to 3 feet and the
stop off at Piss City, honestly the smelliest place you’ll ever come across , even the locals held there noses
and this is fucking India. Piss city says it all. India's great, you can
fart like a fucking trooper and with them being dirty twats its
smells no different if not better.
Into Delhi Airport, tickets booked, 5 hours kip on Delhi airport
floor and we’re into Goa for Christmas eve. By 8pm Christmas
eve I was sat on a beech supping Kingfisher, it wasn’t a bad old
life. Christmas day came and the beer, spirits, cocktails and wine
went down the gullet. It was fucking great, feet up having a little
Indian slave to rub my feet down saving the dead skin for a
5 course meal of there own. Boxing day was a rough affair and
was pretty much spent asleep on the beach before doing my
“shopping”.
27th was here and I got myself to the airport and into Mumbai
when cunt of a taxi driver tries to cheat me and dumps me in a
slum. Eventually get myself out and by a run of luck bump into him at the International airport were I cause a
right fuss calling him a fucking cheat, liar and fraud causing a bit commotion, and once the police put him in
his skip he gives me a sliced throat sign and I give him a wanker for good measure i'm checked in. End up
having a bit of chatter with Justin and Claire who I’d met in Chandigarh before nearly boarding the wrong
flight to the right destination. Into Abu Dhabi a bit more shopping and meet up with Justin and Claire for one
last rendevous before I’m all aboard for Manchester and home via a customs pull for 400 cigarettes – and
they wonder why they are labelled twats

Wolves Away by Gaz

The away day drought was finally over as we used Wolves away as a chance to celebrate Sebs birthday.
Another early start as we were on the 8.17 train and Seb, Blacky, Beltz, Gordy, Duck, Max and Barnesmet
with a shit load of ale, mainly a mix of Xmas left overs!

Train trip flew by and in no time we were in Wolves scurrying around in the bushes looking for somewhere
to stash the excess booze. Trying to find the pub we had a meeting with the old bill. They weren't even after
us but we went over anyway, force of habit perhaps? We were told to be careful as the accents a dead give
away!

Now i forgot to mention that Beltz had given a can of Guinness to Maxie that contained a viagra and although
it was a shock to him it was no surprise to us when he got a random stiffy! It was hard work trying to find an
away fans boozer and in one pub it nearly fucking blew. So by midday we were in our 3rd lusher and Gordy
got us on the shots!

It was off to the ground were Blacky successfully got in as an OAP. Top result and we head back to the
station and we rescued our cargo, nicely chilled given the -3 temperatures under the bemused and
extremely interested Old Bill, and we jumped on the first train back to Preston we could find where we
befriended a pregnant girl and were soon home and in the Old Vic. A few lads joined the party who hadn't
travelled and it wasn't long before lads started to drop like flies As I and a few lads went for a curry While
the remaining few of us ended up in squires giggling at Duck pulling the spitting image of his sister. Great
day, great result and great start to 2009. Back in business cha!

Swansea Away by Blacky
We are the proverbial midweek bottlers, but with a chance to see
a new stadium!
me, Gaz and Mash decided to do Swansea away midweek in
January. It started with me and Gaz loitering outside 'Spoons at
8.50am waiting for a pint and breakfast hoping no one would see
us. We eventually get the bounty and there's a good handful of us
there. Off to Sumners for a quick top up before we head south
stopping at the 'Spoons number 2 in Neath, not before a 2pm
hangover. i'm saying fuck all about this game but a 5 hour trek
home on a red hot coach and with my arse working like a fucking
Russian nerve gas factory a rather smelly coach was not the
perfect setting to get 3 hours sleep before work.

Reading Away by Gaz

Our next outing was Reading and with a debutent on driving in the way of Dave Swindells it left me, Mash
Duck and Blacky doing what we do best - Drinking. It'd been a cold week so the boot was the perfect fridge
especially with a special sample of some Indian wine in tow.
Mash was pissing like a race horse as progress was slow.
Arriving Reading Nicely oiled we had Mash lining up a decorating
job in Milton Keynes under the name Peter Barlow. Big job worth
£2k set up for Monday much to the delight of the local decorator.
The smile would but wiped off his face on the Monday when he
rang Belter to confirm only to gethis dad Ken Barlow on the
phone. A few more ales and we are on to the ground while I get
body searched by the stewards that reveal 30 Viagra's. It was a
decent result, certainly after the Wales debacle and with Belter
topless all game he was commended about his effort by some
bird and his response by quote "i just love the club" as he walked
off straight faced. It wasn't long before we was dropped off at our
respective points, with Gaz's being a solo in Squiress, as I was left
counting my big money win with the West Indies murdering England 51 all out.

Southampton Away by Gaz

A year on from celebrating Blackys Birthday in Northampton we were off to Southampton for our latest
cross country exhibition. We had two cars with me, Blacky, Mash, Duck in one and Ed, Conway and Wee
Man in the other. We'd been sick notes all week so i needed a
microwaved Whiskey/Lemonade ailment to get me going. In
Salsbury we were flying along nicely until Belter spotted
something and stuck it in reverse to go back for a closer
inspection- it was a hitch hiker and the next thing we know he
was squeezed in between me and Duck in the back! "Hippy
Potter" was soon supping our ale and telling us of his
environmental protests and what not.
After a little bit of blagging we find the hotel and found the
hotel where the red carpet was out to greet us at the Hilton!
Departing was the North End team. Bags dumped we are off to
meet the other boys at there hotel, who have done a great job at
what they do best - trashed the fucker, fire extinguishers off,
walking around topless with cocks drawn and "arsewipe" on
there backs etc etc. After the game in no uncertain terms we've
banned Ed and company from a 10 mile radius of ours and as we
get our taxi we see Karl Hawley on a expensive jaunt back to
Preston in a South Ribble taxi. We eventually make it back to the
Southampton 'Spoons were we meet up with Fake Nez's lads and
our other group. We are celebrating Des'tonia's "stag do" and he
has a big distraction apparently as his drink is spiked with a
Viagra all the while Ed was walking round with his cock out much
to the surprise of the locals! But the crowning glory was when a
phantom dumper layed a log on a children high chair then
vanished out of sight. Wonder who that might have been then.
Southampton like to think there a bit of big time so after a small altercation in one club, banned from another
for laughing we headed to one last night club but it wasn't as easy as enter and we never did work out the
terms and conditions to get in, so suprise suprise finished off in
a curry house all paid for on my plastic plastic. Next morning we
struggle up for a killer Hilton breakfast. A dehydrated Blacky
drank his own weights worth of orange juice! We then used the
facilities being the pool and steam room. Duck and Blacky had a
close encounter with a pair of "jelly fishs" but they resisted the
urge to touch and didn't get stung!! After posing on the red carpet
I felt rough as and the thought of 4 hours in the car did not look
good. Luckily it was a short term thing and i was soon back to
annoying the lads with my singing! By this time it was after 2
and we were just leaving Southampton! And it weren't long before
we decided to go to a pub in Cheltenham! In we went and Blacky
soon had a new friend, we left him to it while we watched
soccer! Quick chippy then back on the road home making good
time.

Notts Forest Away by Mash

I was on a duo for this one with my brother who strangely is a Forest fan. I was immediatly put off with Matts
stories of how regular he is a Motorway crash victim including stories of losing tyres and the lot. Arriving
there late we have to shelve plans to go for a pint so we there separate ways, I go as a kid as per usual.

Another away defeat and I pretend to be asleep all the way home, similar to my Ipswich exploits to avoiding
listening to Matts being chuffed as fuck. Eventually arriving home for 12:15am, straight to bed, only to find
out in the morning I had forgotten to set my alarm and am 45 mins late, NOT SOUND. So what you going to
do? Ring in sick and leave voicemail.

Charlton Away by Blacky

Charlton was going to be a bit different, the lads were staying at home and the fossil was coming, however
the ale was still present. As we took our 8pm train on the Friday night. There was a slight sprinkling of
Nobbers with one large concentration of rowdy buggers in the next carriage. The MET obviously hadn’t
been tipped off because at 10.15pm prompt in Euston was 40 North Enders pissed out of there head to the
tune of “Wise Men” making fellow travellers avoid us like the plague. Dump the bags in hotel by Euston and
straight to the George IV for some continued supping.
Come Saturday at about the same time I was cracking my first sup open away to Wolves I was now being a
culture vulture seeing London Tower and London bridge while getting a sneaky pint and breakfast in at a
'Spoons. After the game Fossil was still mad for it as we head back to Central London and did a bit more
sightseeing taking in St Pauls and the Old Bailey, hoping not to end up there all too soon. Fresh'un up and it
bring back memories of Septembers trip to Pakistan as we head to Bangla-town for a slap up curry.
Sunday, another early wake up and we’re down to Churchhill GHQ under ground war bunker, the control
centre to our defeat of them bloody krauts back in World War 2. We also take in Trafalgar Square, Downing
streets before wandering down to houses of parliament and Big Ben brings up the best result of the day, a
fucking lusher. 4 Pints later it’s a wander across St James park in the basking sunshine to Lizzie’s gaff, a
wander down The Mall and then it’s off to Harrods before catching our train back to Preston via all the
African v Arab arguments at speakers corner.

Bristol City Away by Gaz

Bristol City brought the old "Southend trio" of me, Blacky and
Belter back together for the drive down to the west country. Was
a textbook trip down with the driver swigging cider and sticking
the car in with the hgv's while we pissed in the bushes.
Arrived there and settled in a pub for a slap up bite and a few
more ales. It was Grand national day and we were invited into the
grand national sweep, just to make up the numbers i think! Next
thing, Blacky has only gpt the 100-1 shot - the pub went silent as
the only 3 northerners in there slapped about High 5s and hugs
to celebrate robbing £50 in there own back yard!!
Onto the ground and 3 generations got on - Adult for me,
Blacky with OAP, and our kid Mash. We met with Sarge through
the game and it wasn't long before we had hitch hiker 2 of the
season on the way home as Fake Nezz was to return with us
While Sarge was stopping over getting his end away.
Back in Preston Gaz, Mash met with Lyndon and Duck for squires
before a curry with the National winnings.

Donny Away by Gaz

With the last League away trip of the proper league season we
was going out in style and having a overnighter in Doncaster. It
was me driving along with Seb, Mash and Blacky. We was chuffed
to find Yorkshire was on fire as the moors burned like a good one
, but what made it all the more funnier was "trumptons" getting
there priorities right in helping a horse 1/2 mile futher up the road
that had escaped. We also had a rather close swerve in the fast
lane as I went on a duel with a Eddie Stobart wagon.
Arrive at our hotel and the word "hotel" should be used in a
loose way as it was some monstrosity in the middle of an
industrial estate backing onto a graveyard! Still the view was
amazing- empty cans, needles and rat traps galore could be
seen from our bunk beds! Decked out in shorts we venture out
in cloudy Donny through their version of the Chatsworth estate. No pubs in sight. I asked an old bloke were
a pub was, he looked at us and just cracked up before walking off!! We did eventually find a pub called
Baileys which was cheap as chips! 98p for Tetleys, Carlsberg and Diamond White among others. Then came
the most disgusting part of the season, if you get queasy easy skip this bit . . .

Blacky suffering from heartburn found out that he could cough up the bile/acid
which gave him grief. And so after some goading about being a bottler, Belter
drank a mix of this stuff and vodka for the tune of a 10er.

Going back to hotel to get ready for the night, Blacky was pretending to be a big
easter egg rolling down hills and Belter robbed a mosque . . . of 4 pints of milk
and a few head rags/tea towels!! Quick change in the room then back to Baileys
hoping for some karaoke action. The night was now in full flow and Donny did
not let us down - was banging! But it all got a bit too much for Belter and at
midnight he had to disappear for a bite and bed. Meanwhile Blacky had "pulled"
and so was off down an alley with my trophy. Me and Seb stay out doing our
party trick of busting a few moves on the dance floor and emptying them. As a
added bonus Seb has a dry night.
In the morning we check out and off to a 'Spoons for breakfast before
heading to our new local were we are now part of the furniture chatting to the
locals and Donnys number 1 shit fan! We contemplated sacking the game off and supping in there all arvo
but as I was driving I werent down with this plan! Good job too as game was actually quite good, As Blacky
went on his 100th ground!
We strolled back to the hotel and big red had not been robbed much to Blacky's disappointment and we
were on our way home,

Hatton in Las Vegas by Blacky 2

So It was back to Vegas in hope I could recreate the ghost of November past. Into New York no danger, and
onto Vegas and after a ticker attack victim is removed from the plane, It's straight to my usual hotel and
straight to bed, well not quite, you know what I mean lads.
Up early doors, wash my knob and sweat off in the pool before it's down for a dangerously large breakfast
and then my favourite part, like a women straight to the designer shop to see what new designer threads
are in. Made the Spiv jealous when i turned up with his loose "camel" jokes. Anyway i had been to the
Hatton Weigh in and it was dead so went for a beer only to return to a twatting lock out. Devastated, so we
settle for a few beers on the strip before staggering back to my hotel and meeting some boys from previous
jaunts.
Was in bed at a half reasonable time as it was going to be
one long day. Again a early wake up and straight to the hot tub to
sweat the ale out, were i couldn't break away from some rather
sexy Grandma's who just had me talking to listen to my accent,
sadistic eh? A burger then down to the Excalibur were I gradually
lose $100 on roultette and $60 on slots - see you later. Meet with
the Spiv and Di for beers before moving across to the MGM to
finish off drinking formalitites. Into the Arena and after a mix up
with tickets, i'm quids in as I have a £400 ticket for £250, downside
i'm with all the Yanks and Phillipinos, Anyway any one thats
knows me and worth there salt will know this don't phase me and
infact makes me louder, so much so everyone within a 100 seat
radius of me just look bemused as I murdered our national
anthem at top lung level cha. I didn't improve and continued my
Pro British slander, but as people say those who laugh last laugh the longest . . . and they fucking did! Well
beaten.
Back to the Spivs hotel for pleasantries after a few in the MGM and its early doors before I get back, just
enough time to shower, pack my bag and get down for my shuttle back to the airport. I was however in the
midst of a cloud with a silver lining, my phone had gone mental with texts and the Nobbers had only done
the business as well as Sheffield Wednesday and we'd done a miracle, we'd made the playoffs after I'd
written them off in March. In to New York, a few goodies and a slap up Chinese and I'd blagged 3 full seats to
allow me get some shut eye arriving in Manchester fresh as a daisy.

Sheffield United Away in Playoffs by Gaz

It was all to do at Sheffield United after a 1-1 home draw the previous Friday. Half a days work done, ale
purchased and on to Blackys were we meet Dave Swindells, Laura, Duck, Seb and Mash. Duck stuck on
El-Tel's North End shirt and then into the cars to hit the road with
Belter leading and Laura following. The atmosphere in the motor
was jubilant and any nerves we had were being drunk and
danced away. First stop was a lay by for a piss stop a bar stop on
the way although the lack of brandy was disappointing. Into
Sheffield and park outside the stadium and off to find a pub which
was a tougher test then first thought and the old bill couldn't help
as they hadn't been briefed yet??!! At this point news was
filtering through that JK had on his solo from Sunderland, so we
did the meet and found a pub after confirming it wasn't a gay bar.
There was no real atmosphere in the pub that was until I spilt a
fresh pint. On to the game and it was a good support but poor
result.The lads did us prouder than we cud ever have imagined
back on that long coach trip to Ipswich (or flight to Austria/ car
to Morecambe) depending on when you started!) We trudged off
with that usual play off feeling and headed home. It finished with one last altercation of the season as some
Sheffield Skins "threatened" to kick off but bottled it. See you all next season at Peterborough, Doncaster
and Plymouth.

Kazakhstan Away by Blacky

It was a Monday night train down to Gatwick with the prospect of the floor for 3 hours before my flight to
Helsinki, It wasn't all doom and gloom as there was a shower and the all too familiar 'Spoons for breakfast.
Leaving a few days early to an obscure country always works a treat against the old bill intelligence. So
arrive in Finland with free passage and with me sharing a room
with some "not rights" a sesh on the ale was on the cards. So a
little bar crawl to the harbour and a kebab before retiring to a red
hot room early morning. Wake up in time for a knuckle
shuffle and shower before heading to the port for the ferry to
Tallinn Estonia, and with the ale on the ferry dirt cheap whats a
man going to do? Arrive Tallinn dump the gear and straight on to
the square, were we was exactly 2 years ago to the date in a
Euro 2008 Qualifying game (See 2006/07 Estonia Away). Some
food and a bit of ale and back to put my head down before the
grand arrival of Spiv and Scouse. The rest of the night is ours on
the piss visiting old haunts before retiring at 1am after a meeting
with "Dunegon Dave".
Up at 7.30am for the bus to Riga were amongst the topics of
conversations was Scouse's sex life, the planning to rob a post
office and a new buisness venture "The Glory Hole". Arrive Riga
before settling for the last possible decent food and cocktails. Taxi up to the airport and before we know it
we are Kazakhstan bound, but not before Scouse is collared by security, Why? Well Security wanted to
know why there was dozens of empty pistachio shells in his bag?? Strange bloke!

Arrive Almaty, and we can't enter the apartment for
another 4 hours, so we walk around aimlessly leaving
Spiv to crack up. Finally get in and ours heads down
for a few hours and out for some festivities and all it
took was a quick word to the restaurant owner and a
trip to the stadium with his son and we've got a right
result in the form of face value tickets. Being the folk
we are we take a wide berth of all the Irish bars and
establishments holding the "straight members" and
do the "Local Lushers tour", one we're we sup in
dives only. We finish the night off in one bar get
talking to some Kazakhstan fans who idolise Liverpool
, then come some Kazakhstan fans who support Man
united and before you know it, it's kicked off, even
more shocking one lads disappears only to return
with a gun before putting in the magazine and cocking
it before his mates put some sense into him, all the while
the local Police just look on.
We retire at around 4am Wake up on the big day, sort Scouse's registration with them cunts from the F.A.
before doing the obligatory sight seeing. Again photo's are wanted with no more than some nearly wed
couples who now have 3 pissed up English in there wedding photos, not ones to show your nana eh? Upto
the ground for a resounding 4-0 victory of which we watched from
the Kazakh end as the norm before meeting Binnsy and heading
to Almaty centre to carry on drinks. We get offered a ruck by
some 16 year old Kazakh which is flatly refused. As we head
home a car pulls up with "Police Police" upon a closer inspection
its a bogus copper, and he gets laughed off back into his Lada,
obviosuly thinking these English could be more trouble than it's
worth
Up early Sunday and we was supposed to be heading
Kyrgyzstan, but we fucked our Kazakh visa up so it's a train ride
into the wilderness and to get off at the 3rd stop which is a place
called Kapshagay, step off the train and it really is a shit hole,
full of flies and just a desolote industrial shithole in the middle of
nowhere. a mile walk down a track brings a shock, there's only a
fucking bar, it was a right result so straight in as the vultures were
about to start circling. Eventually find a taxi, we'd been recommended
some kind of Vegas like resort on the lake so we organise a lift there and a return to Almaty after too. On
entry to the resort we got talking to some Kazzie lass and when we said we'd been to Kapshagay and her
response was

"No No Nooooooo, You must not got there if you care for your life, I am from Kazakhstan and I don't even
got there"

When we come to leave. the cunt of a taxi drivers fucked off so
we start the 70km walk back to Almaty hitchhiking before we
come across a Kazzie Police checkpoint. They are very suprised
to find 3 wandering Englishman out here, that is until a car comes
screeching up and on the verge of missing out on a big pay day
it's our rather panic'd taxi driver. Close to a heart attack he looks
a relieved man. Anyway when someone tells PrestonAway some
thing is dangerous it's a case of going to see just how dangerous
it is so back to Kapshagay, change cars and we are Almaty
bound before the cars starts to smoke and over heat. We
eventually make it back to Almaty and catch the second half of
the Kazakhstan/Macedonia u21 game and then we head to a bar
for final pleasantries, we pull a right stunt paying only 5% of the bill before we have to be on our toes in to
the night. 3 hours kip and to the airport for a nightmare 7 hours check in/ flight before arriving in Riga. Get to
Binnsy's hotel and we can only check in from 3pm and it 12pm, so down for some food before checking in
and getting my head down for a few hours before the flight from hell - surrounded by screaming babies and
Turks who smell a mix of sweat and onions. I was glad to get home.

England U21 in Sweden Euro 09 by Blacky

10 day after Kazzie, It was time for Sweden and the official solo night out to oxford on the Friday was
cancelled after a lorry greatfully dumped it's load of offal on the carriageway, Saturday morning job it was to
Spivs before flying in to Gothenburg. Arrive hotel and one thing that Spiv had forgotten to tell me was that
we was sleeping on a fucking boat. Dropped off the gear and straight on to town to find some new boozing
establishment. Late on we are attracted to some red lights in a building as you do coupled with some Euro
beat. Closer inspection reveals no "glory hole but the musics coming from a car park, so up we go to find a
alcohol free illegal rave going on, with no booze we are history and with one last attempt at a all night café,
we make it back to the 24 hour bar at the boat, which closed a
1am!!! Start Sunday with an unofficial "complimentary" breakfast.
We'd had a chore booking hotel rooms but became apparent with
70,000 head bangers in town for an AC/DC concert of all things,
so we had to move hotel. Find it check in and theres a fairground
across so the big kids we are we spend the next 5 hours in there
an it goes down a treat. Back at the hotel we enter the lift then
can't remember the room number so we try a few floors before
admitting defeat and going to reception, however on the way
down i drop my guts and as we arrive at the bottom the doors
open to reveal a middle aged couple and the lift is horrific so a
polite slow walk turns to a brisk walk to a run as Spiv hides in
the Mexican buffet and I hide in the bar. Eventually make it back
to the room and we head out on our shit lushers tours, as we take
in boozers off the beaten track, we end up in a council estate and a few other strange options before calling
it a night.

On the Monday train to Halmstad and remove the flag for its first
2009 outing and get to town for a few pints, find a British bar,
hang the flag and the bar goes from being empty to literally being
full within an hour. These are the days I love, 30 die hard lads,
flags and a no go zone for anything that isn't English. There were
a few game Germans lads across in another bar, but decided
against it as the Swedish polices looked on nervously and a
group of 30 Swedes looked on with bemusement. God Save the
Queen and Rule Britannia rang from the bar till 15 minutes
before kick off before we make tracks to the ground just missing
the National Anthem. Even though it was U21 it was a tense old
affair with the English/Kraut hatred always there to see. Spiv dying
for a piss ended up in one of the plastic shit houses before it was violently jerked by some unknown force,
he exited with piss all over his shirt and shorts with "brown ones" apparently going very close. We finished
off festivities with a few of the lads before all bars were closed.

Woke up and missed Breakfast, but with more pressing issues of a game of mini golf to be had we get the
bus to Tykosand, a small seaside town were a convincing 41- 46 win is had on a 50 par by Blacky. Back to
Halmstad and the train to Gothenburg, We left Sweden with just 76p left in local currency. Arrive Standsted
as Spiv heads off one waya nd me the other, It's a sad feeling, the end of a seasons work, arrive home for
1am before rising for some brickwork at 6am.