It's been a turbulant weekend at Hillsborough. Yesterday saw Brian Law's replacement; Alex Blackburne officially unveiled to the press. Blackburne got to work straight away knowing that he has a lot to do if he is to keep Wednesday away from the relegation places come the end of the season. His first signing came in the early hours of Sunday, Sam Axon, was snapped up on a free transfer after being without a club for some time.
Blackburne who started his managerial career at minnows Harrogate Town before moving on to make his name at AFC Telford landed his first job in League Football with a hopeful letter sent to Owls Chief Exec. Nick Parker, who saw real potential in him. With no other options at the time, Blackburne was handed a 1 year contract to prove himself. Parker had this to say of his new Manager, "Alex is a proven manager in the lower leagues, I'm certain his skills will transfer well to life in the Championship, I have complete faith in his ability and look forward to working with him for years to come."
Wednesday currently lie in 22nd place, marooned on 18 points, something which Blackburne wants to change, at his 1st press conference he had this to say "There's a lot to be done at this football club. They have such a great history and deserve better to be in the position that they're in. I'll be scouring the loan market and looking at a few free agents to help us through this tough spell before I can revamp the squad in January, the current players will all have to prove to me that they deserve their place in the team. It really is time to shape up, or ship out."
His first signing, Axon, is a real journeyman of lower league football but has been without a club since the 2007/08 season after Longhill Ravens were forced to fold. Known for his rock solid defence, organisational skills and skill going forward, he has been unfortunate with injury over his career and many pundits say that were it not for these injuries, he would have been a regular in the England team.
Blackburne will be hoping that Axon stays free from injury problems as he looks to patch up the Owls defence, which has been leaking goals of late, and rebuild it around the commanding Axon. "Sam is a great signing for us, of course we have fitness worries, mainly the fact that he can't manage a lap of our training field without needing oxygen and also that his left ankle is only held in place by a flimsy ankle support due to his lack of ligaments."
Axon, who was diagnosed with a dodgy ankle while playing for East Hull Tigers subsequently suffered repeat injuries twice with Longhill in the 2007/08 season, is looking forward to a new challenge, "I'm looking forward to a new challenge." Axon said when asked about his view on this new challenge.
Blackburne will take charge for Wednesday's game on Boxing Day against Newcastle and will be looking to hand a debut to Axon as well as any other pre-christmas signings.
Sunday, 20 December 2009
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Dream Team: Conference North
The English Conference North; the 6th tier of English football is not the most classy place to be plying your trade as a manager. Especially when it's on a 3 year old copy of Football Manager in your bedroom, borrowed from your mate, in Hull, while you're a student. Yes, that's right, I'm a loser and cosequently nearly just fell backwards of my chair while typing that sentence.
Nevertheless, my two friends (not my only 2 friends, just 2 of my numerous (4) friends) are currently trying to take Harrogate Town all the way to the Premier League on Football Manager 2010. I on the other hand thought it might be fun to see what would happen if an American pornography tycoon bought the mighty 'Sulphurites' and injected oodles of cash into them.
So, I was appointed manager at the beginning of July 2006 with a rather healthy transfer budget of £700,000,000 to spend.
I was a fairly incompetent manager to start with, I didn't quite know where to look for players or hire staff so my first match was a disaster. I was beaten 2-1 by a team called Kermt-Haselt, who I can only guess are imaginary.
However, once I'd found my way around the screen I started to make some progress. I signed elderly goalkeeper Paul Jones first, who would in the end only play 1 game before being replaced by Peter Enklemann. I signed myself a good assistant and signed promising German midfielder Aaron Hunt.
My first pre-season in charge saw a major overhaul of the playing staff at Weatherby Road. Most of the original team were released or sold as I brought in players such as Danny Guthrie, Phil Cave, Steven Warnock and Nicky Southall who all played their part in my first win. 3-1 against Huddersfield.
My next game was a friendly against Lancaster who had a Striker called Rob Black. I figured this could only be a good thing and was proved right as I won 7-0 and Black was sent off for a clumsy challenge on Nicky Southall. Typical.
My first league match was re-arranged due to international call-ups, which I assume is a first for the Conference North. In the end it was a 0-0 draw with highly glamorous Leigh. These would be the only points I dropped all season as my Harrogate dream team would go on to win their remaining 41 league matches convincingly and we found ourselves declared Champions with around 12 games left to play.
Not everything went totally to plan in my first League season though. Despite winning the FA Trophy, I was dumped out of the FA cup by Coventry in the 4th round and also found myself embroiled in a Fergie style war of words with Scarborough manager Mick Hucknall (Although I'm not sure if Mick was actualy his first name, I've done that for comic effect).
The club was also leaking money at an alarming rate. Transfer fees, wages and a maximum stadium capacity of around 3,000 had left me with very little money coming in compared to a lot going out. A problem which I'll have to fix next year in the big, bad Conference.
Nevertheless, my two friends (not my only 2 friends, just 2 of my numerous (4) friends) are currently trying to take Harrogate Town all the way to the Premier League on Football Manager 2010. I on the other hand thought it might be fun to see what would happen if an American pornography tycoon bought the mighty 'Sulphurites' and injected oodles of cash into them.
So, I was appointed manager at the beginning of July 2006 with a rather healthy transfer budget of £700,000,000 to spend.
I was a fairly incompetent manager to start with, I didn't quite know where to look for players or hire staff so my first match was a disaster. I was beaten 2-1 by a team called Kermt-Haselt, who I can only guess are imaginary.
However, once I'd found my way around the screen I started to make some progress. I signed elderly goalkeeper Paul Jones first, who would in the end only play 1 game before being replaced by Peter Enklemann. I signed myself a good assistant and signed promising German midfielder Aaron Hunt.
My first pre-season in charge saw a major overhaul of the playing staff at Weatherby Road. Most of the original team were released or sold as I brought in players such as Danny Guthrie, Phil Cave, Steven Warnock and Nicky Southall who all played their part in my first win. 3-1 against Huddersfield.
My next game was a friendly against Lancaster who had a Striker called Rob Black. I figured this could only be a good thing and was proved right as I won 7-0 and Black was sent off for a clumsy challenge on Nicky Southall. Typical.
My first league match was re-arranged due to international call-ups, which I assume is a first for the Conference North. In the end it was a 0-0 draw with highly glamorous Leigh. These would be the only points I dropped all season as my Harrogate dream team would go on to win their remaining 41 league matches convincingly and we found ourselves declared Champions with around 12 games left to play.
Not everything went totally to plan in my first League season though. Despite winning the FA Trophy, I was dumped out of the FA cup by Coventry in the 4th round and also found myself embroiled in a Fergie style war of words with Scarborough manager Mick Hucknall (Although I'm not sure if Mick was actualy his first name, I've done that for comic effect).
The club was also leaking money at an alarming rate. Transfer fees, wages and a maximum stadium capacity of around 3,000 had left me with very little money coming in compared to a lot going out. A problem which I'll have to fix next year in the big, bad Conference.
Saturday, 31 October 2009
Happy America Day
The Webster's Dictionary definition of Halloween:
Halloween or Hallowe'en is a holiday celebrated in much of the Western world on the night of October 31, the night before All Saints Day (Nov. 1), hence its alternative name as All Saints Eve or All Hallows' Eve. Long surviving in Ireland, it was brought to the United States by Irish emigrants in the 19th century.
Why Webster's Dictionary you ask? Well, because it's purely American, much like Halloween should be. I fail to see why we (and the rest of the world) buy into everything from 'across the pond' so readily. Fair enough they make pretty good music, and film, and TV, I have no problem with that, I'm actually a big fan of shows like Scrubs and Friends but I just don't understand why we have this desire as a country to be just like America.
I think this has all been brought on by my fundamental hatred for Halloween. The kids knocking on your door while their parents stand judgmentally at the end of your driveway, the shitty orange excuse for a fruit more commonly known as a pumpkin and worst of all the 25 year old chavs who knock on your door at 11pm saying trick or treat who think that putting their hood up is a good enough costume.
Thankfully in our house everyone is of the same opinion. We sit silently in complete darkness ignoring any knocks on the door whilst clutching our crucifixes waiting for daybreak, when we know we'll be safe again. Of course there's always one set of the little trick or treating bastards who sneak around on the 1st of November trying to con you, which is why we usually go out as a family for tea and surround the house with bear traps. The corpses make a wonderful desert when served with left over toffee apples from Hull fair.
But my biggest problem with Halloween, the thing I hate most, is people wanting money from you. Why on earth should I give people money for dressing like they've just escaped a mental asylum? I work hard for my money, there's no way I'm giving it to some acne ridden teenager because he's managed to buy a set of fake fangs and squirt tomato ketchup in and around his mouth. The little shits will be getting nothing from me, ever.
So my plea to the whole of the United Kingdom (which will somewhat be in vain because I know that only 3 people read this blog) is to stop celebrating Halloween, put more emphasis on Bonfire night instead, a night which actually has some cultural and historical relevance to us all.
(Even though for most of you, culture is defined as which drug-dealer you use or where you like to go to get absolutely rat-arsed and beat up your wife, and History is defined as who you shagged up the arse last week, you fucking Phillistines.)
Halloween or Hallowe'en is a holiday celebrated in much of the Western world on the night of October 31, the night before All Saints Day (Nov. 1), hence its alternative name as All Saints Eve or All Hallows' Eve. Long surviving in Ireland, it was brought to the United States by Irish emigrants in the 19th century.
Why Webster's Dictionary you ask? Well, because it's purely American, much like Halloween should be. I fail to see why we (and the rest of the world) buy into everything from 'across the pond' so readily. Fair enough they make pretty good music, and film, and TV, I have no problem with that, I'm actually a big fan of shows like Scrubs and Friends but I just don't understand why we have this desire as a country to be just like America.
I think this has all been brought on by my fundamental hatred for Halloween. The kids knocking on your door while their parents stand judgmentally at the end of your driveway, the shitty orange excuse for a fruit more commonly known as a pumpkin and worst of all the 25 year old chavs who knock on your door at 11pm saying trick or treat who think that putting their hood up is a good enough costume.
Thankfully in our house everyone is of the same opinion. We sit silently in complete darkness ignoring any knocks on the door whilst clutching our crucifixes waiting for daybreak, when we know we'll be safe again. Of course there's always one set of the little trick or treating bastards who sneak around on the 1st of November trying to con you, which is why we usually go out as a family for tea and surround the house with bear traps. The corpses make a wonderful desert when served with left over toffee apples from Hull fair.
But my biggest problem with Halloween, the thing I hate most, is people wanting money from you. Why on earth should I give people money for dressing like they've just escaped a mental asylum? I work hard for my money, there's no way I'm giving it to some acne ridden teenager because he's managed to buy a set of fake fangs and squirt tomato ketchup in and around his mouth. The little shits will be getting nothing from me, ever.
So my plea to the whole of the United Kingdom (which will somewhat be in vain because I know that only 3 people read this blog) is to stop celebrating Halloween, put more emphasis on Bonfire night instead, a night which actually has some cultural and historical relevance to us all.
(Even though for most of you, culture is defined as which drug-dealer you use or where you like to go to get absolutely rat-arsed and beat up your wife, and History is defined as who you shagged up the arse last week, you fucking Phillistines.)
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
My Life; Without Football Manager
So that time of year's rolling around again!
No, I'm not talking about Christmas or even the new year, I'm talking about Football Manager's release date. Friday the 30th of October 2010 to be precice; The day that I'll lose 2 friends to the lure of a PC football management game (as the game's title suggests).
Phil and Alex are both taking charge of Harrogate Town (Up the Sulphurites!) and hopefully taking them all the way to the top of the Premiership, and maybe even Europe. They'll both be blogging their progress, Alex's will be here:
http://alexbrfc-fm-blog.blogspot.com/
and Phil's will be... well, I'm sure once Phil gets round to it there'll be a link on Alex's page.
But in the spirit of not being left out I thought I might start blogging a bit more regularly (who needs a degree anyway?)
Who knows, I might even blog about some of the games I've been addicted to, it'll be something for Phil and Al to read once Harrogate have their hands on the Champions League Trophy.
I would start now, but I just saw a German film with breasts in it, so I have to go and reminisce! Bye!
No, I'm not talking about Christmas or even the new year, I'm talking about Football Manager's release date. Friday the 30th of October 2010 to be precice; The day that I'll lose 2 friends to the lure of a PC football management game (as the game's title suggests).
Phil and Alex are both taking charge of Harrogate Town (Up the Sulphurites!) and hopefully taking them all the way to the top of the Premiership, and maybe even Europe. They'll both be blogging their progress, Alex's will be here:
http://alexbrfc-fm-blog.blogspot.com/
and Phil's will be... well, I'm sure once Phil gets round to it there'll be a link on Alex's page.
But in the spirit of not being left out I thought I might start blogging a bit more regularly (who needs a degree anyway?)
Who knows, I might even blog about some of the games I've been addicted to, it'll be something for Phil and Al to read once Harrogate have their hands on the Champions League Trophy.
I would start now, but I just saw a German film with breasts in it, so I have to go and reminisce! Bye!
Friday, 4 September 2009
The Not So Mighty Black and Whites
I'm currently sat with my laptop on my knee downstairs watching Leeds vs St Helens in the super league, which has always been a big game. It's a typical Friday night; Mum's reading a book, my brother's just going to bed and Jamie's sat screaming at the referee for no apparent reason. There's already been one break away, a fantastic try-saving tackle, a sin binning and a disallowed try. It just makes me wonder what's happened to my team: the once great Hull FC. 3 years ago they were riding high. They'd won the challenge cup in the most dramatic of fashions in 2005 and had a dream season in 2006, making it all the way to the Grand final, only losing out to the then unstoppable St Helens.
Fast Forward to the present and Hull FC have finished outside of the playoff bracket for the second year in a row. 2008 saw them finish as the 2nd worst team in the league and 2009 doesn't promise to be much better. So why the sudden turn around in fortunes?
Well, the first (and most obvious reason) is the decline in quality of the playing squad. Over the last few seasons FC have had a strange fetish for so called 'utility' players, meaning that they've been bringing in players who can cover multiple positions in case of injury etc. This has however left the team without specialist players. As much as it pains me to say it, they've never replaced Paul Cooke. Also, letting Shaun Briscoe move to the dark side is one of the worst decisions ever made at the club. Again it was a decision taken because Briscoe was not enough of a 'utility player' but now we've been left without a recognised full back while Briscoe works magic for Hull KR.
Signings like Chris Thorman just show how much of a backward step the club is taking. Instead of signing Michael Dobson when they had the opportunity, the club opted to let him join Hull KR and instead signed a player who was not good enough to play half back for Huddersfield. He waddle's like a duck and is a geordie, why would anyone in their right mind sign him?!
The Second major reason; the lack of a good coach and backroom staff. Richard Agar is an assistant coach at best yet he's in charge of the first team with another Huddersfield reject: John Sharpe.
Third of all, the passion has gone. The players don't play with pride which means in turn that the crowd are less enthusiastic. It's like nobody wants to be there anymore.
All in all it's a bit of a shit situation, and I don't know why we, the fans bother anymore.
Oh and I'm sorry that I've had to vent my anger on here on a subject that most of you have little or no interest in. I just thought it'd be better if I put it in writing! What a surprise, we're losing 10-6 at half time to Wigan...
Fast Forward to the present and Hull FC have finished outside of the playoff bracket for the second year in a row. 2008 saw them finish as the 2nd worst team in the league and 2009 doesn't promise to be much better. So why the sudden turn around in fortunes?
Well, the first (and most obvious reason) is the decline in quality of the playing squad. Over the last few seasons FC have had a strange fetish for so called 'utility' players, meaning that they've been bringing in players who can cover multiple positions in case of injury etc. This has however left the team without specialist players. As much as it pains me to say it, they've never replaced Paul Cooke. Also, letting Shaun Briscoe move to the dark side is one of the worst decisions ever made at the club. Again it was a decision taken because Briscoe was not enough of a 'utility player' but now we've been left without a recognised full back while Briscoe works magic for Hull KR.
Signings like Chris Thorman just show how much of a backward step the club is taking. Instead of signing Michael Dobson when they had the opportunity, the club opted to let him join Hull KR and instead signed a player who was not good enough to play half back for Huddersfield. He waddle's like a duck and is a geordie, why would anyone in their right mind sign him?!
The Second major reason; the lack of a good coach and backroom staff. Richard Agar is an assistant coach at best yet he's in charge of the first team with another Huddersfield reject: John Sharpe.
Third of all, the passion has gone. The players don't play with pride which means in turn that the crowd are less enthusiastic. It's like nobody wants to be there anymore.
All in all it's a bit of a shit situation, and I don't know why we, the fans bother anymore.
Oh and I'm sorry that I've had to vent my anger on here on a subject that most of you have little or no interest in. I just thought it'd be better if I put it in writing! What a surprise, we're losing 10-6 at half time to Wigan...
Thursday, 13 August 2009
Thinking Thursday
Today was the day that I ran out of things to do.
My last exam was at the beginning of June and the last 2 and a half months have melted away. Don't get me wrong I've had a brilliant time but it's gone way too fast. I don't think life will ever be this care-free again and it sucks.
This time in 10 years I could be married. Obviously I'd need to find a girl first, and at this rate it's not likely because Karma isn't my friend but the thought's still really scary.
This time in 10 years I'll be worrying about turning 30, not 20 and my dad will be pushing 60. No doubt I'll be working 9-5 all week and all my hopes and dreams will have been smashed. Ah well, I might not even live that long. I'll just have to make the most of it wont I?
My last exam was at the beginning of June and the last 2 and a half months have melted away. Don't get me wrong I've had a brilliant time but it's gone way too fast. I don't think life will ever be this care-free again and it sucks.
This time in 10 years I could be married. Obviously I'd need to find a girl first, and at this rate it's not likely because Karma isn't my friend but the thought's still really scary.
This time in 10 years I'll be worrying about turning 30, not 20 and my dad will be pushing 60. No doubt I'll be working 9-5 all week and all my hopes and dreams will have been smashed. Ah well, I might not even live that long. I'll just have to make the most of it wont I?
Sunday, 9 August 2009
Gran Canaria Blog
So, 2 guys go on holiday alone, kinda gay huh? SHUT UP! THIS IS THE 21st CENTURY, GET OVER YOURSELF!
Ok, so that’s that over with (for now). This blog will be a little different and will probably only be enjoyed by me and Phil, but screw the rest of you ‘cause I’m writing it anyway.
Me and Señor Bexley had a very subdued ride to the airport, mainly because my step-dad decided that he’d listen to the Cricket commentary on the radio for the full journey. Now, Cricket’s boring on TV, but radio cricket is like a mild sedative. I zoned out for 2 hours and forgot who I was. Infact at one point I think I actually thought I was Andrew Flintoff. Therefore you can imagine our relief when we finally got to the airport to check in. We had a little mis-hap when Phil forgot that pasties aren’t allowed in your hand-luggage. The poor guy had packed 5 steak slices and 2 Cornish pasties which he had to throw away, such a waste!
After being charged £9 for a Burger in the airport Phil became a little irate and tipped all of the sugar out of the bowl although he said it was an accident.
Perhaps it was the guy who when questioned as to why he was cutting infront of the 4 person long queue for security with his wife answered with, “Yes, I’ve paid for the fast lane” who really fucked with Phil’s head because I know it did with mine. The guy was taking pride in the fact that he’d probably paid an extra £50 so that he could be a smug twat and push past 4 people, which made it SO satisfying when Phil and I strolled through to the departure lounge before the smug bastard had even put his belt back on.
Sooner or later we actually arrived in Gran Canaria and were greeted by a wonderfully mongy holiday rep called Jodie, which wasn’t a pretty sight at 2am. Surprise surprise: she was from Hull, possibly the mongo capital of the world. ‘Our Jodie’ as she became known showed us to our hotel, The Altamar, which was fine except we’d been given the room right at the bottom and had to take the world’s smallest, most illogical lift at 3am to get to it and then find it in the dark.
Other than that, the hotel was generally fine. The view was great, Taxis to the main centre cost less than 5 Euros and it had 2 massive pools. The night that I melted into a puddle because of my broken fan was far from pleasant though and we only had 1 channel on the TV: Eurosport. So over the course of the week we both became experts in Cycling (BRADLEY WIGGINS!), Diving (TOM DALEY!) and erm... well, that was it all week really! We just sat back and ate and drank questionable produce e.g. Chorizo and ‘Bati’ strawberry milk. Phil particularly liked the bati.
Other activities which took place in our room included: Rubbing sun cream into each other’s backs, smelling our fragrant fridge, having slightly homo-erotic pistachio fights, pretending to be a velocoraptor, and flashing the full resort of Puerto Rico (The last 2 were just Phil’s).
So did they just stay in the apartment for a full week acting like special children you ask? Not quite, but one incident in particular makes me wish I had. We went over to a club called ‘Cream’ in Playa de Inglés one night for some party times. The drinks were 2 for 1 and within about 10 minutes I’d downed approximately 4 double vodka and cokes, not good. Fast forward 10 minutes and I’m having a race across the dance-floor on a space hopper with some girl, the prize being a shot of sambuca. Being how I am, I fell face first off the thing but still managed to win the race. I then proceeded to buy more sambuca because it was only 1 Euro a shot.
I’m not going into too much detail but let’s just say that I ended up pulling a right porker from Oldham (whose name I can’t remember) and then doing some things on a bus that I’m not proud of with a girl called Charlotte.
Moving On! Other things that we did were:
Mini-golf, we played twice and both won one each. Pardraig Harrington would be proud.
Eating tonnes of food. Especially me, I actually ate Old McDonald’s farm one night in the form of a mixed grill, I felt so ill afterwards.
We went to Aqualand, a waterpark with an awesome lazy river and obviously suffered from the age old problem of dealing with a scorching hot floor in bare feet, but all was made better when we saw possibly the most pert Spanish lady in history. The image of her goddess like ‘Tatty Bojangles’ will be forever etched into mine and Phil’s consciousnesses.
We rented a pedelo one day (jet-skis were too expensive) and nearly got destroyed by an oncoming ferry .
We took a trip on a Catamaran on the Friday out into the ocean which was good. We got off to swim for a bit which was fun until I realised I couldn’t tread water for more than 5 minutes and the water below me was 50 meters deep, but I survived and it was a good day!
Anyway I’m not gonna carry on detailing every single aspect of the holiday. I’m just gonna say it was a week very well spent with one of my best mates (even if he is sometimes a dinosaur).
So when the time came to go home, we packed up our stuff and left the chorizo in the fridge for the cleaner to enjoy. We managed to pass 2 minutes on the plane journey home trying to name the full ground-force team. We had Titchmarsh and Charlie ‘no bra’ Dimmock straight away but for some reason Tommy Walsh evaded us. Ah well, now we know!
Ok, so that’s that over with (for now). This blog will be a little different and will probably only be enjoyed by me and Phil, but screw the rest of you ‘cause I’m writing it anyway.
Me and Señor Bexley had a very subdued ride to the airport, mainly because my step-dad decided that he’d listen to the Cricket commentary on the radio for the full journey. Now, Cricket’s boring on TV, but radio cricket is like a mild sedative. I zoned out for 2 hours and forgot who I was. Infact at one point I think I actually thought I was Andrew Flintoff. Therefore you can imagine our relief when we finally got to the airport to check in. We had a little mis-hap when Phil forgot that pasties aren’t allowed in your hand-luggage. The poor guy had packed 5 steak slices and 2 Cornish pasties which he had to throw away, such a waste!
After being charged £9 for a Burger in the airport Phil became a little irate and tipped all of the sugar out of the bowl although he said it was an accident.
Perhaps it was the guy who when questioned as to why he was cutting infront of the 4 person long queue for security with his wife answered with, “Yes, I’ve paid for the fast lane” who really fucked with Phil’s head because I know it did with mine. The guy was taking pride in the fact that he’d probably paid an extra £50 so that he could be a smug twat and push past 4 people, which made it SO satisfying when Phil and I strolled through to the departure lounge before the smug bastard had even put his belt back on.
Sooner or later we actually arrived in Gran Canaria and were greeted by a wonderfully mongy holiday rep called Jodie, which wasn’t a pretty sight at 2am. Surprise surprise: she was from Hull, possibly the mongo capital of the world. ‘Our Jodie’ as she became known showed us to our hotel, The Altamar, which was fine except we’d been given the room right at the bottom and had to take the world’s smallest, most illogical lift at 3am to get to it and then find it in the dark.
Other than that, the hotel was generally fine. The view was great, Taxis to the main centre cost less than 5 Euros and it had 2 massive pools. The night that I melted into a puddle because of my broken fan was far from pleasant though and we only had 1 channel on the TV: Eurosport. So over the course of the week we both became experts in Cycling (BRADLEY WIGGINS!), Diving (TOM DALEY!) and erm... well, that was it all week really! We just sat back and ate and drank questionable produce e.g. Chorizo and ‘Bati’ strawberry milk. Phil particularly liked the bati.
Other activities which took place in our room included: Rubbing sun cream into each other’s backs, smelling our fragrant fridge, having slightly homo-erotic pistachio fights, pretending to be a velocoraptor, and flashing the full resort of Puerto Rico (The last 2 were just Phil’s).
So did they just stay in the apartment for a full week acting like special children you ask? Not quite, but one incident in particular makes me wish I had. We went over to a club called ‘Cream’ in Playa de Inglés one night for some party times. The drinks were 2 for 1 and within about 10 minutes I’d downed approximately 4 double vodka and cokes, not good. Fast forward 10 minutes and I’m having a race across the dance-floor on a space hopper with some girl, the prize being a shot of sambuca. Being how I am, I fell face first off the thing but still managed to win the race. I then proceeded to buy more sambuca because it was only 1 Euro a shot.
I’m not going into too much detail but let’s just say that I ended up pulling a right porker from Oldham (whose name I can’t remember) and then doing some things on a bus that I’m not proud of with a girl called Charlotte.
Moving On! Other things that we did were:
Mini-golf, we played twice and both won one each. Pardraig Harrington would be proud.
Eating tonnes of food. Especially me, I actually ate Old McDonald’s farm one night in the form of a mixed grill, I felt so ill afterwards.
We went to Aqualand, a waterpark with an awesome lazy river and obviously suffered from the age old problem of dealing with a scorching hot floor in bare feet, but all was made better when we saw possibly the most pert Spanish lady in history. The image of her goddess like ‘Tatty Bojangles’ will be forever etched into mine and Phil’s consciousnesses.
We rented a pedelo one day (jet-skis were too expensive) and nearly got destroyed by an oncoming ferry .
We took a trip on a Catamaran on the Friday out into the ocean which was good. We got off to swim for a bit which was fun until I realised I couldn’t tread water for more than 5 minutes and the water below me was 50 meters deep, but I survived and it was a good day!
Anyway I’m not gonna carry on detailing every single aspect of the holiday. I’m just gonna say it was a week very well spent with one of my best mates (even if he is sometimes a dinosaur).
So when the time came to go home, we packed up our stuff and left the chorizo in the fridge for the cleaner to enjoy. We managed to pass 2 minutes on the plane journey home trying to name the full ground-force team. We had Titchmarsh and Charlie ‘no bra’ Dimmock straight away but for some reason Tommy Walsh evaded us. Ah well, now we know!
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