Back Again...A German Round Up

Sorry about the delay, I was out and about the last couple of days. On this post I would like to round up our most excellent Munich trip. I had been before, to the Mighty Oktoberfest, a couple of years ago, but this was my first time perusing the streets of the town as it is 50 weeks of the year. Our first call was to rendezvous with the Swiss branch of the Bender Squad, who had arrived the day before, and seeing as we were in Germany, we decided to meet up in an Australian bar. As stupid as it sounds there was a reason, it was showing Chelsea play Newcastle, but from there it was onto the world famous Hofbrauhaus, were we got well greased. The place is loud and raucous, but it would seem we were to loud, Sprocket got told to pipe down twice, and Shouty to get his arse off the table. We fell out this joint at around midnight, and I disappeared to the hotel, with a purloined stein stuffed up my jumper. The rest headed out to a nightclub complex somewhere else, and rolled in between two and five.

The next day was TSV 1860 day, see below, and after the game we returned to the Ozzie bar to watch the Man U/Villa game. From here we did farewell to the Major and Duggy, and took off on the lash once more. We found a nice respectable Bier Keller just off town square, that took Shouty and Sprocket ages to find (they wanted to get changed, the faggots) and things began to get messy. Dance Mat was first to go, but he had to work the next day, and that is a pretty good excuse. It was pushing midnight on a Sunday now, and every where was shut, but a taxi driver dropped us off at a seedy little spot that was open all night. An interesting mix of folk was amongst the clientele, from middle aged booze hounds, to hip hop kids, via some fit birds and the eponymous smattering of students. And a quartet of wankered English geezers. Me and Shouty hit the dance floor, and moon staggered to our hearts content. Everything was going swimmingly, we had acquired a posse of German mates, but one kept ruffling Sprockets hair, and he wasn't best pleased, so I decided to take him back to the digs. No taxis were in sight, so we decided to leg it home, and as you can guess, got spectacularly lost. Arrival time at hotel 4:15 am, closely followed by our two comrades, who got a cab.

Next morning, Sprocket and Crespo wanted to do some touristy stuff, so me and Shouty set off to see if we could drink our way through the six original bier kelleers of Munchen. First stop, Hofbrauhaus, for beer and meatballs. Next stop the Lownebrau keller, via the 1860 shop, for not one but two beers, sat in the garden on a beautiful spring day. We strolled up to the infamous fountain, seen of our skinny dipping escapades of 2007, but they had put a cover on it. Must have heard we were in town. Next call the Augistiner Keller. This was probably my favourite, so we stopped for two and a big ass pretzel. Not much pain was being felt by now, as we headed off to the Augusteiner Braustuben. It is a pity we did not discover this gem earlier. The price for a litre of Helles (lager) was around €7, which roughly works out about £3.40 a pint. In the Bruastuben a lire was a snip, at €5.50, less than £2.50 a pint. The fly in the ointment with this was the fact that we were well drunk by now. Shouty accused me of babbling, so we fell out, and began arguing. By now Dance Mat had been in touch, so we staggered on too the underground, and headed towards the Augusteiner-Grossgaststatte beer hall. Dance Mat commented on our inebriation's, particularly mine, so we decided on some grub to try and stem the tide. And it worked. For me at least, Shouty just continued on his merry slide into oblivion.

This was the last of the beers halls we made it to, falling two shy of our target, although we had done one the night before. Sprocket and Crespo met up with us in the beer hall mentioned above, and had been on an adventure of their own, involving BMW's, naked men, the Englisher Garden and the Olympic Stadium, but seeing how I wasn't there I can't really comment. We finished the night off in a seedy dive bar near the station. How seedy? It had a vending machine full of porno in the entrance. The beer wasn't cheap, and upstairs was a peep show area. Unfortunately, as myself and Crespo found out, it only showed videos featuring man love. What was worse, some fat greasy German dude followed us upstairs. Wonder who he fancied. Short, bald, chubby American or tall, slender pretty boy? Needless to say, we made our exit post haste.

And in a nutshell, that's it. Shouty went on his usual Buffoon burst, and rolled in at five in the morning, skint, and sporting a nice shiny skin. He hummed as well. I wasn't sure what to expect with the Oktoberfest not being on, but if truth be told, I think I preferred Munich without the massive crowds. All I can say is, it is one Hell of town for a beer bender. Prost!

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