The Noughties- A Bender Odyssey

Farewell to the Noughties, an interesting decades of highs and lows. The highest point, of course, came with the founding of the Bender Squad. We had of course, been on many shindigs prior to it's inception, but with the interned becoming all pervading, I took it upon myself to found our organization, and create an electronic method of holding our "Band of Brothers" together and informed, particularly as the nefarious M.R.S. try to disband our group and consign to the Hell of weekends spent traipsing around places such as the White Rose Shopping Centre, or even worse, IKEA. So let us go back in time, as long as my memory holds up, to a year in which we were all ten years younger, and seemed to have more money and time on our hands.

2000- The beginning of a new Millennium, and what a big to do about nowt. The Y2K bug had everybody worried that planes would be falling out of the sky, but it proved to be much the same as every New Years eve before. More difficult to comprehend was how well the local football teams were doing. Leeds would finish third and enter the Champions League, and even more remarkably, Bradford City held onto their place in the top flight, and also entered European football, albeit in the less glamorous InterToto. It was the first time Bradford had sent a representative onto the Continent since the Bradford Pals set sail to take on the Boche during World War 1. Most of the Benders this year revolved around our away days following the Mighty Bantams. Myself, El Grande Queso, MC and Jamon traipsed up and down the land following the boys in Claret and Amber. Most memorable trips of the year were the ones to Q.P.R. in London, when promotion became all the more likely, and Bender that followed the Wolves game when we made back to the big time for the first time in 77 years. A messy day and night indeed. But his was probably the final year that we stuck mainly to Yorkshire for our Benders. Trips to Leeds and Sheffield were the order of the day, and all nighters were still frequent, so standout jaunts are difficult to remember, as they all tend to melt into one big massive party.

2001- The year of my betrothal, which meant a stag night. And it was a beauty. The destination, Portsmouth to watch the relegated Bantams in the Championship, may not have been a very glamorous destination, but it was, and remains a legendary trip. We travelled down on the train, drinking both routes dry, and carried on in the same vein for the next two days. We stayed in some campus digs, that were primarily used as accommodation for the blue rinse brigade. Amazingly we got on fine with the assorted OAP's, but we had the police out on the first night, as a Kung Fu crazed hairy arsed Russian took umbridge Sandro and Big Al. But the discovery of the weekend was none other than Tony Helmet. He put in a Sterling performance on his debut, and laid the foundations for the buffoonery that he was to become legendary for. The bicycle wheel and carpet roll he humped across town, for no apparent reason was his signature moment. He was on his own and stopped by the police, who were investigating an incident involving a hairy Russian. We were stopped by the same police on our way back to our digs, who enquired if we knew of anybody carrying a carpet roll and a wheel. "Never heard of him" was our reply. Add to this the bar he tried to get served by a mannequin, and he would have received points galore. Even the trip home was eventful, as our train was held up after a guy who had murdered his wife, decided to jump in front of it, as it reached speeds of over 100 m.p.h. Sandro claimed that he new it was a fella, as an ear had flown past his window. "How do you know it was an ear?" asked Helmet. "Cause it had an earring in it." was his answer.

My wedding was in Las Vegas, by an Elvis impersonator, with the reception at Hooters (who says I am not a classy guy), and of course I had to take a couple of guys to go on a Bender with, namely the Boy Dazzler and Jamon. I would have loved to have taken more, but it was not a cheap trip. On several occasions we got up to some high jinks, but the best, or worst, depending on your outlook, was the night we got ambushed by a Cambodian. Having already sturdied ourselves with a few beers, we took off to watch the Pirate ship fight at the Treasure Island casino. We had half an hour to kill before the next scrap, so we hit the bar, and because we only had a short ammount of time decided to get some shots instead of beer. "You like shots, try these" said our Cambodian Nemesis. They were called Alaskan Oil Slicks, if memory serves, and we had about four of them. This meant we missed to Pirate show, and were in Bender mode. After trawling through countless lounges and casino bars, we ended up in a bar called Red Square in the Mandalay Hotel. It had a headless Lenin statue outside, served hundreds of different vodkas, and best of all had a bar that was made of ice to keep your drink cold on. Mayhem ensued, as we made lot's of new American friends, lost them, made loads of noise, and left at around two o'clock in the morning, much to the relief of the patrons inside, especially as Jamon had entered full on noodle mode. The hangovers we had the next day, took the edge off our trip to LA, but Jamon and Dazzler said it was worth it, because I got shit on by an albatross.

Bender of the Year- Portsmouth
Honourable Mention- Las Vegas

2002- This year was a fallow year for trips, but there was a reason. It was World Cup year. With it being held in the Far East, this meant that much time was needed to be booked off work, due to the stupid o'clock kick off times. Every single England game fell into a worst a mini bender, at best a full blown one. And the biggest full blown one, was the quarter final against Brazil. There had been no standout team during the tournament, and after we had come through the so called group of death, it was felt that if we came through this match, the cup was there for the taking. It was a six in the morning game, so me, Dazzler and the Geester went out the night before, and stayed up late working out wether it was affordable to go out for the final. David Seamans ineptitude put paid to that trip, but boy did we get shitfaced.

Sticking with the football, 2002 was the start of our annual FA Cup Bender. Myself, Helmet, Sandro, Geester, Dazzler and Jamon, watched Liverpool steal the trophy from Arsenal, when a still good Michael Owen scored twice in the last ten minutes. Helmet then took us to Giuseppe's for some grub, as Jamon terrorised the staff. Where we got to later remains a mystery, locked somewhere in my deep sub conscious, but I think it involved pills, beers and cards back at San's into the early hours. Nothing else really sticks out in my mind from this year, I can't remember any stag nights, or such, and Bradfords slide down the divisions meant not much was going on on that front. I vaguely remember that Me, Lobon, John the Dan, Dazzler and Skid went to Carlisle to see Donny Rovers play, which was a decent enough Bender, till I git trolleyed on Whiskey. Some things never change. But we were about to start taking advantage of the growing number a low cost airways that were starting to fly from the North of England. The Bender Squad was ready to go International

Bender of the Year- Fa Cup Final Day, Bradford
Honourable Mentions- Carlisle, World Cup in the Villager

2003- The start of a golden era. Our first trip for no other reason than it seemed like a good idea took place early in 2003, as we took off for the City of Light, Paris. It was a good sized posse that went, along with me went Funky, Helmet, King of the Pixies, Dangerous Pete, MoleCat, Crespo, Geester, Lobon, Jamon, John the Don and The Boy Dazzler. This was back in the day, when the exchange rate was very favourable, and we had an absolute blast. It was during this sojourn that "Buffoon" became the name of choice for unadulterated stupidity, it being French for idiot. It was used most often in relation to the Boy Dazzler and Funky, although Lobon's attempts to find the WC in a strip club were also worthy of mention. Funky's was for forgetting the name of our hotel, only remembering that it was part of a chain, so a savvy Parisian taxi driver took him on a gran tour of the lot, costing him a packet. Dazzler, in an extremely tipsy state, reckoned some poor fella looked like Al Pacino, an proceeded to badger him at length, before I saved the poor chap. He looked more like Righard Gere any how. We were now split up from the rest, and stumbled into a tourist trap, that charged us €40 for two large whiskies. My plan was to fight the bar keep, but as Dazzler was now rolling around on the floor with the pub's dog, and my opponent was a large sober chap, I decided on the only sensible course of action. I made Daz pay. All this was on the first night, and the second day was a continuation. We got off to slow start on our mission to visit Jim Morrisons grave, as Crespo tried crying off with a hangover. Helmet and Jamon were having none of it, and dragged out by his ankles. The Doors front mans final resting place is a bit of a let down, not unlike his music, although when I mooned his grave Helmet stuck a pilgrims photo up my keister. Not nice. The rest of the day was a boozy affair. We found a place that did vodka by the metre. The night was rounded off down the pigalle in a bunch of seedy bars, one of which we didn't leave till gone seven in the morning, a proper cool dive called Le Pub Frochet.

Next up was John the Dons 65th to Belfast, of all places. On paper this looked to be the tamest trip to date, but in fact it turned out to be probably the booziest. We had an excellent weekend weather wise, and from the off we were in beer heaven. Helmet was in full rude boy mode, this was the weekend that saw his infamous rant at a poor waitress. Our excursion to Port Rush was a bit of a fiasco, and hinted that the Don was a bit of a Buffoon, something that would be borne out over the next couple of years. But the funniest incident of the whole trip was Helmets plunge into the murky depths of the river Langan. We had blown nigh on a thousand pounds in this riverside bar, and Tony decided his finances needed an infusion of cash, so i went round the joint collecting money for his stunt, although at one point some rowdy locals tried to throw me in. There was a another side trip to Bushmills Whiskey Distillery, were it was my turn to be an eejit, as a smart arse comment backfired on me, and our tour guide took the piss for the rest of the trip. Stand out bar of this trip was the Crown Liquor Saloon, an outstanding example of a Victorian gin palace, and a spot were Lobon was was made a fool of by the barman.

I did make a trip to Amsterdam, along with the Good Doctor Shotgun, for a stag night, but the guys we went with were more of a smokers group, and being stoned doesn't lend it self to buffoonery, although i did have a hell of a good time.

Bender of the Year- Paris, just
Honourable Mention- Belfast

2004- The first annual football trip, and we picked arguably the team in the world as our inaugural bender, Barcelona. The squad consisted of yours truly, Two Scoops, El Grande Queso, Geester, Lobon, Funky,The Boy Dazzler and John the Don. Once again we were quick out of the traps, and we were soon separated after a bust up in a restaurant, every body accusing the other of short changing on the bill. This left me, Scoops, Queso and the Geester winging our way across the Catalan capital to a diso called Otto Zurz. On the way over, Queso forgot that cars in Spain have the driver on the opposite side, and gave our cabbie a wet willie, in the mistaken belief it was me. Luckily he took it in good spirits. The club was a top spot, and we finally bailed at around six, although my excesses meant I was unfit to go out the next night, was just as well, as I have never seen the Don and Dazzler as drunk as they were that night. The Boy even got his wallet lifted. The game, between Barca and real Sociadad was not the most spectacular affair, but the winner was top drawer, as Ronaldinho won the game in the last minute with a spectacular free kick. That night it was just me, scoops and the Jannetta boys that went out, we had fun but fell out on the way back, and ended up scrapping with each other outside the hotel. The concierge came out and sent us to bed, but we fell out again in the lift and began wrestling with each other once more. The concierge was waiting for us on our floor, gave us a ticking off in Spanish, and escorted us to our pits.

The next sojourn abroad is one that I can't really comment on, as I did not go, and with good reason. I get to do pretty much as I please, but even I could not fly Thailand past the trouble and strife. It was Geevers, Lobon and the Boy who took off to the land of smiles, and as you can imagine, not much can be reported. Lobon did meet his wife though. As you can see by the pictures posted on Smug Mug, it was all a bit messy.

Later in the year, in what was to be my second visit of three in as many years, it was Funkys stag party, and he chose Amsterdam. Alas, for him, it came a week after he had been laid up in hospital with some stomach problems. This didn't stop the rest of us going Bananas, and in more ways than one, as we discovered the world famous Banana Bar in the Red light dsitrict. It has to be visited to be believed. A must for any stag night, or male only Bender, I would give it a miss if I was on a romantic weekend. It was also the first time buffoon points were awarded, as "Le Grande Buffoon" title was finally launched, although the points for this trip would roll over into 2005, as it was late in the year. Jamon's performance was indeed legendary. So much so that I am unable to repeat any of it. If you pass me in the street I will tell you all you need to know.

Bender of the Year- Amsterdam
Honourable Mention- Barcelona

2005- Our annual football trip this year was to see Real Madrid, at the time home of the Galacticos. John the Don pulled some strings, and got us fantastic seats, and although the opposition was only Malaga, all the stars were playing. Zidane, Beckham, Figo, Raul and Roberto Carlos all turned out, and even Michael Owen got a run out at the end. The game was a let down, Roberto Carlos scored the only goal, but it was a top drawer weekend. Queso likes to call it Big Saturday, as this was the keystone day of the weekend. We started off with some culture, although jamons interpretation of Picasso's Guernica was not kind. He compared it to a scene at Morrison's at Girlington on a Friday lunchtime. We found a bar after this, and after a few drinks, myself, Helmet and Jamon went to catch some more art, leaving a phoneless King Dave (gypseys had fleeced it), Queso and Funky to get greased. We returned to join them, and embrk on a truly memorable Bender. Helmet had to cart off Jamon, he was getting well pissed by now, as the rest of us took off for the Plaza Mayor. Wew did hook up again, in the best night club that I have ever been to, The Palacio Gaviria. It is housed in a 19th century palace. It was a top night, enhanced by the little fellas King Dave had procured. Take your credit card though, it ain't cheap. Jamon cemented his Maillot Jaune by "falling" into a skip, although I am not alone in thinking he pissed off some locals and got deposited in it.

A small outing this one, just me and the Boy Dazzler, with a brief cameo from Big Al, made a trip to the USA, taking in on our travels New York City, Tiffin, Ohio and Cincinnati. We were on best behaviour, of sorts, in New York, as I had the Elster with me, but we managed to drink plenty. We got to some great local bars, the best, and most frequented (it was across the road from our digs) was McHales. Dazzler reckons he saw the guy out of Queer as Folk in there, and you know, I thinj=k he was right. Cincinnatti, on the other hand, was a proper Bender. We stayed on the Kentucky side of the river, which had an excellant Irish bar, a branch of the Hofbrauhaus and a floating Hooters. We also found a good beer garden across from the Ball park, before we went to see the Reds play. A top day.

Last but not least, of the Beders undertaken this year, was our trip with Akis crew to watch the ashes in Manchester, at Old Trafford. If any one ever tells you that test cricket is boring, they cannot havbe been to a live game. It is an excuse to just sit around, bait Australians and quaff litres of ale. The day was overcast, and the Boy Dazzler was arsed and catching some zzzz's, when the sun came out, burnt him, and went back in just as he woke up. The look on j=his face was priceless as he tried to figure out what had happened. Molecat, Bakes, Aki and the Paulcano were most excellent companians.

Bender of the Year- Madrid
Honourable Mentions- New York, Cincinnatti and Manchester
Le Grande Buffoon- Jamon

2006-At last I can you turn you back to the blog, as just about all undertakings since 2005 have been posted, including year reviews. So for the last four years I will post just the treips and Maillott Jaune winners.

Bender of the Year- Cologne-for the England world cup game. An epic day that contained just about everything-beer, footie, food and fallouts. It had it all.
Honourable mentions-Hamburg and Munster during the World Cup, Amsterdam for Shoutys stag night, Eindhoven, on our way to see England fail yet again, Town v City an epic dyaout that traversed West Yorkshire, and saw the demise of Jamon as aforce ion the Squad.
Le Grande Buffoon- John the Don

2007
Bender of the Year- Munich Oktoberfest
Hourable Mentions- St Pats in the Villager, Pirate Trip-Skipton, Scunthorpe, Lincoln, Beppe & Pepe's-Salzburg
Le Grande Buffoon- The Funky Messiah

2008
Bender of the Year-London for the Brentford game
Honourable Mentions- Dublin-Molecats final fling, Cologne/Monchengladbach-TSV 1860 trip, Chicago-trip to watch the Cubs
Le Grande Buffoon- The Right Honourable Shouty

2009
Bender of the Year- Munich-annual trip to watch TSV 1860
Honourable Mention-FA Cup final day, Edinburgh-Ad's final fling, Darlington/Leeds/Bradford-epic bender
Le Grande Buffoon- Tony Helmet

So that is it for the noughties. Time to look forward to the next decade, which all being well should feature a twentieth, a thirtieth, around nine fortieths, about the same number of fiftieth's and a sevetieth to celebrate. This does not include those foolish enough to marry, or those sadly who get divorced, so the next decade, unless climate change is as imminent as poloticians keep telling us, looks to be as busy, if not quite as full on, as the last.