Crickey!!!!

I wasn't going to post anything today, having to work Bank Holidays sucks ass, and doesn't put me in the best of moods, but something happemed to me on Sunday that hasn't happened in a looooong time, and I couldn't resist sharing it. Saturday was the Bantams last home game of the season, so afterwards it was off to the pub to sink much beer and talk shite. Of course this meant I didn't eat much, so I woke up starving, and still a bit inebriated if truth be told. A greasy fry up was the order of the day, so down to Bradfords finest greasy spoon I went. God knows how it happened, but I caught the eye of a young twenty something girl, and flashed her the legendary Brister smile. She smiled back, and pleasantries were exchanged, before my cardiac arrest on a plate arrived. She waved and left the cafe, and that was that, so I thought, before her mate strode up to me, and said "My friend wants you to have this," and tipped me a wink. I had scored a phone number no less. I confess to being quite shocked, and my ego began to burst at the seams. That is until my 11 year old daughter clicked what had occurred, and burst out laughing. For a good five minutes. I thought at one point that she might require oxygen, she laughed that hard, and when we got home, of course, she filled the Elster in with all the details. What was even worse, was the Elster started laughing just as hard. Personally I don't see what was so funny, seeing as I am so fine, but trying telling that to the girls I share a home with. Still it is good ammunition for the next time I fancy a knee trembler, as if the Elster is not compliant, I shall threaten to summon my nubile admirer.

Last Word

All right, this is the last post concerning our recent jaunt to the Father Land. I should have put this link on a different post, but I didn't. It is a photo gallery on the Bender Squad picture site. Click here to view.

Quick to Take

Not so quick to pay back! Jet2 are starting too test my legendary patience. When you book a flight, the money is taken straight off the bat. When a volcano erupts, and flight is cancelled, you have to call a premium rate number, at 50p a minute, too be told it can take between 10-15 working days before your refund arrives. If the flight is cancelled, surely there is some kind of mechanism that would automatically reimburse all passengers due to fly? For a start it's an Internet company, so all payments are made by card. A tenner says there is a big ass button on a machine some where that says "Refund" that just needs pressing. My first action was to e-mail them, figuring it would save the phone call, and some button monkey in Delhi would receive and process. Yes, I appreciate there is a lot of flights to wade through, but two weeks! In fact it's more, because weekends don't count. When I rang up, the nice lady at the other end even said she could see it was being processed. So why couldn't she press the button? To say all this new fangled technology is supposed too have improved our lives, is a statement that is beginning to ring hollow in my book.

PRESS THE BUTTON!!!!!!!!!!

Away Days...Fortuna 2 Lowen 0

It's a bit late, but I nearly forgot to post the game report, and Away Day thread from our recent sojourn to Dusseldorf.

First up the match. As you would expect from a team comfortably resigned to mid table mediocrity, 1860's performance had a touch of lethargy about it, as they dreamt of sunny beaches. Fortuna, on the other hand, still had a decent shout at finishing in the play off spot, and played like it. from the off the lads in blue in and white were under the cosh, and the surprise was they were only a goal up at half time. The second half was closer, TSV even had a good chance, wasted, but there was only ever one team in it, and the injury time penalty scored by Fortuna, was fair enough. In fact if they had won by four or five, it would not have been an unfair reflection.

Wurst rating- Two choices of sausage, I plumped for the Bratwurst, served with a lovely ice cold Kolsch. Which you could sit and drink in your seat. Hell they even had a guy walking through the crowd with a keg on his back. How could you not score it a perfect 10/10?

Statistics

• Capacity- 51,500
  
• Concessions- Two kinds of beer (Alt and Kolsch) served cold, for £3. Sausage by the yard, and a team of servers, who get you served in double quick time. English football clubs should be made to go to Germany to see how it's done.
  
• Built-2004
  
• Did You Know?- It has a retractable roof, which means it can also host a variety of different events, such as Phil Collins concerts. The naming rights are currently held by fashion group Esprit, of whose underpants Crespo once paid €50 for a pair.
  
• Visited By- Euro Bri, Dr Shotgun, Major, Shouty, Crespo, Sprocket and Dessi
  
• Rating- Coliseum. About a fifteen minute train ride out of town. The place has like a huge fabricated wall surrounding all four sides, giving it an appearance of a big warehouse, if truth be told. Inside, however, is different kettle of fish, and it doesn't have a bad seat in the house. The crowd, at about 30,000-ish, made a good row, and if Fortuna make it to the Bundesliga, I reckon it will be a great place to watch a game of football. The taxi ride back in too town along the river was pretty cool as well.

Righteous Blow Chance

Boy that was a hard one to swallow. Two up, with about five minutes to go, and it seemed our losing streak was about to end. But then came the seemingly weekly implosion, and we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. It all started well, Clogs thrashed a long shot straight into the back of newly purchased goals. Bradford Council had finally got around to replacing the ones held together by gaffer tape, bu my reckoning the last ones had been in use since 1996. This roused the cock munchers, and in double quick time, we were two in the hole, and all over the place. Still the storm was weathered, and we pulled level. For the next half hour the game was nip and tuck, but finally we made our move and looked to have the game sewn up. Even Big Phil, not renowned for his reflexes, pulled out a Gordon banks effort. One minute he was upright, the next sprawled horizontally across the goal, finger tips steering the ball around the post. But then came the second worst tackle of the past few seasons, as the usually mild mannered Mercenary sent Luklear flying. It weren't pretty, but then again it wasn't a penalty, which of course the despicable ass bandits tried to claim. This raised their shackles, and for the next few minutes things got a bit ugly. Once tempers had cooled, some poor finishing, as usual, left the door open for a gay comeback, and of course that's what happened. Crespo had a golden opportunity to equalise at the death. He was free, with bags of time and space, right on the penalty spot, with only well known keeping clown Jamon to beat, but he smashed the ball straight at him, consigniong us to our fourth loss on the bounce. Worrying times indeed.

JMF- Dead Eye, Young Gaz, Funky, Luklear War and Jamon

EURO E- Euro Bri, Clogs, Big Phil, The Mecenary and Crespo

2010 Season

JMF wins - 10


Euro Elite - 6


Draws - 0

Shouty the Kid

After declaring himself "Drinking Champion of Europe" brother Shouty is already having his credentials called into question. Just like Billy the Kid, legendary gun slinger of the Wild West, pretenders to his crown are already lining up, believing that if they can fell our bespectacled beer machine, they will be able to bathe in the glory of his demise. The first inclination I got that others had designs on his title, was the night after his Killepptsch antics, when a tipsy Queso rang our lass up to declare him self the new King, when the Right Honourable passed out in his cab on the way back to the hotel. But in the cold light of day, Stevie recalled the exploits of the previous night, and realised to truly lay claim to the belt, he would have to undertake an equally irresponsible drinking feat, and his roar subsided to a whisper. But news travels fast in the digital age, and back in the wilds of Wilsden, a sleeping giant has awoken. He may well be the wrong side of 45 now, but the legendary booze machine Sprout, is less than impressed, and has declared himself a contender. A well known bar jockey, who back in the day laid waste to men twice his size, has the reputation, but does he still possess the will? All I know, is that the next time Shouty darkens the door of the Villager, he better have his A game.

But I reckon this only the tip of the iceberg, there are many more who will wish to tame the Shoutster, and although he says not, I reckon the next time Helmet encounters him, he won't be able to resist. And these are just the guys I know. Brother Shouty has decided to talk the talk, and there will be plenty aiming to make him walk the walk. I predict a boozy summer......

Buffoon 2010: Update

Only a small adjustment, but it does give me time too tidy up the league table, of which I made a bit of an arse of last time. I went out for a few beers with Crespo over the weekend, and there is a two point addition to his total, after he confessed to suffering a "Munich Incident" in Dusseldorf. He tried to keep it quiet, but after getting a few ales down him the truth came out. The table below now looks thus:

Updated Buffoon Standings

1. Trigger 50 points
2. El Grande Queso 14 points
3. Euro Bri 13 points
   
4. Crespo 13 points
5. Child Catcher 11 points
   
6. Gareeeeeee 4 points
7. Sprocket 3 points
8. Dr Shotgun 3 points
   
9. Mikey D 3 Points
10. John the Don 3 points
11. Shouty 3 points
12. Dessi 2 points
    
13. San 1 Point
14. Major 1 point

As you can see, it has made minimal impact on the tables, but they could prove crucial come October. Still, brother Trigger will take a lot of catching...

Le Grand Buffoon 2010

There is nothing like a foreign jaunt to stimulate the Buffoon of the year standings, and our trip to Dusseldorf was no different. I am going to break the scoring down by member, with their points total. Forgive me for being vague on a couple of exploits, but you will get the gist of what went on.

Trigger
Many thought Helmets on man mission in Edinburgh would take some beating, but Trigger beats it all ends up. First up, the Pikey incident, which was uncovered on the trip down. I cannot elaborate too much on this, but it involved a deal to good to be true, and was deemed by the panel to be worth 10 points. Then we have the piss tip. As travellers around Germany are aware, quite a few establishments have a toilet attendant, whom you usually give a 20 to 50 cent tip for keeping the bog clean. Trigger decided to go all flash on us, and tipped this particular cleaner €20, or £18 for a piss. Luckily Queso was at hand to get it back, but still worth at least 5 points. Then there is the hotel incident, which was agreed weighed in with a whopping 25 points. As you would imagine, on his reappearance come Sunday, he was ever so slightly sheepish, at steered clear of stupidity for the remainder of the trip. Total-40 points

Euro Bri
I may as well get my own idiocy over and done with. My main score was for doing a Mexican wave just as a bartender walked past with a drinks laden tray, I cannot really argue with the three points bestowed on me. I also scored another for texting Sprocket, telling him to get out of bed, even though he was next too me in a pub. Texted the wrong guy, 1 point. I am not sure why I was awarded the other two I was informed of, but considering the state I got into on a couple of occasions, I am more than happy to let them stand. Total-5 points

Sprocket
His purple ear, earned after a grappling session with dessi (see below) was worthy of a score, and his vinegar shot also racks up a point. Apart from that I am struggling to think of much. Oh yeah, I remember his rose trick now. Defiantly worth another score. Total-3points

Dessi
A first timer, and the fact is he wasn't even supposed to be out with us, but proved to be a worthy addition. Scores like Sprocket, for wrestling like school kids, and also, infamously, did the dreaded starfish shot. Can't really let him off with out a score. My feeling is, now that he knows us, and will be more at ease, that he could score well on our next sojourn. Total-2 points

Dr Shotgun
Without the inestimable Doctor, we would probably still be stranded somewhere in North West Germany, his level head twice retrieving seemingly lost causes. But he still was not immune from moments slackness. My personal favourite was when he asked if 1860 Munich were at home, even though we were in Dusseldorf, on our way to the stadium. He couldn't quite grasp the Koln was Cologne theory either. He did score a third pint, but for what I can't quite remember. Total-3 points

Crespo
A sensible-ish weekend from our lanky legend. Going back to a house party, and having a shit, only to find there was but a piece of bog roll is about the only incident that springs readily too mind. I am sure there is at least another, so if anybody can remember it, please let me know. Total- 1 point

King of the Pixies
Sandro took some time to shake off the first nights shenanigans, and then was felled by a Shouty induced headache. He did turn it around, but I would be hard pressed to think of him scoring a point. Maybe it was all those pork sarnies kept him on the straight and narrow. Total-Nul points

Shouty
He was starting to accrue a fair haul. There was the numerous condiment shots he created and supped. The Scotsman he pissed off. The Sprocket incident, which he just wouldn't let lie. It revolved around a joke he made about his trouble and strife, for which KC apologised, only for Shouty to bring it up, again, five minutes later. The dollop of ketchuped, dispensed on his head, as he lay sparked out on a table. But these were all wiped from the slate as part of the deal to get him to undertake the exploit reported below. That of course means he can only be scored for the stunt he pulled when he got home. He turned up for work, even though he had booked it off. An unbelievable solitary score. Total- 1 point

John the Don
He didn't actually go, but I have no doubt he did something stupid, some where. Total- 1 point

El Grande Queso
A good haul from the Queso. First up, the Shouty shooter of mustard he swigged. He claimed to pulled a sleight of hand, but as the video below shows, whatever he knocked back was definitely containing a selection of condiments (even though he may have spit it back into his beer, it went in his gob). Two points for trying to dodge one. Another couple for ringing the Elster, at 8 o'clock in the morning, to tell her she was a good egg, and announce himself as drinking champion of Europe. It's just as well our lass is used to stupid phone calls in the small hours. He scored another for some misdemeanour that has slipped my mind. Total- 5 points



Updated Buffoon Standings

1. Trigger 50 points
2. Child Catcher 11 points
   
3. El Grande Queso 14 points
4. Euro Bri 13 points
   
5. Crespo 11 points
6. El Grande Queso 9 points
   
7. Euro Bri 8 points
   
8. Gareeeeeee 4 points
9. Sprocket 3 points
10. Dr Shotgun 3 points
    
11. Mikey D 3 Points
12. John the Don 3 points
13. Shouty 3 points
14. Dessi 2 points
    
15. San 1 Point
16. Major 1 point
    

Irresponsible? Yes. Funny? Most Definatly

Thanks to brother Sprocket for posting this video, capturing Shouty at his best (or worst, depending on gender.) The lad had been on an epic 25 hour binge, only briefly snatching a power nap here and there, and was clattered when he undertook this feat. Only moments before, he had downed four Jagermeisters, and it gave me and Sprocket the idea of goading him into trying to a yard of Killepitshs on his own. It was without a doubt one of the more irresponsible things we have down, but you gotta admit it was impressive.

Kids, DO NOT, try this at home......

Double Down

Sorry about forgetting to report on last weeks match down the Wood, which the Gaylord JMF just about held onto, but I got lumbered trying to figure out ways to get across to Germany, thanks to that pesky Volcano. The fact that two of the Righteous made the mad dash to Dusseldorf, played more than small part in our destruction down the Wood last night. Sadly me and the Shoutsater are no longer in our twenties, and weekends deprivations took their toll. Badly. And if that wasn't bad enough, Two Scoops pulled up injured almost straight away, depriving Clogs and the Mercenary of three players. Of course, as you would expect from a bunch of arse bandits, there was no mercy. It was a whooping , in every sense of the word, although some of the gloating did seem a tad crass, considering our predicament. Anyway, there is a long way to go, and a three game advantage is nothing to be panicked about. Yet.

JMF- Dead Eye, King Dave, Funky, Luklear War and Jamon

EURO E- Euro Bri, Clogs, Shouty, The Mecenary and Two Scoops

2010 Season

JMF wins - 9


Euro Elite - 6


Draws - 0

Ein episches Abenteuer

An epic adventure indeed. It took more than an erupting volcano to prevent our mission from occurring, and a contingency plan was formed. Sprocket, by some strange coincidence, was already stranded in Dusseldorf, and two of our party were stuck in work, so it was seven of us who boarded a VW transporter in Clayton, and headed off on a 557 mile trek to Dusseldorf. The trip down was pretty incident free, Sandro's mood swings from complete depression, to unbelievable optimism, kept every one's spirits up, until we found out that Queso's supposed European satnav, wasn't. Luckily I had printed off our route from Google maps, which did the job, but as we neared our destination, it became complicated. Once again, we had a lucky break, as I finally figured out how too use the GPS maps on my dog and bone. We arrived, checked in, met Sprocket and his mate, and took off around the Aldstadt, drinking loads of Alt and Killepitsch, of which I never heard of, but you can follow this link to learn more. After loads of both of these drinks, apart from the good Dr Shotgun (thankfully as it transpired) we KC took us too a place that did the best pork sarnies in the world. Sandro was so impressed he ate two, and even contemplated a third (he said he didn't want to seem greedy) In fact over our three day stay, he consumed a grand total of nine, and grew a curly tail. The other highlight of the evening was Shouty laying claim to drinking champion of Europe, after he destroyed a Germ,an chap foolish enough to cross swords with him. But things were about to take change for the worse, and one member was too find himself burdened with a whooping 25 Buffoon points ( this doesn't include the ten he got on the journey for telling us about his pikey trick) I am not allowed to fully relay the full ins and out's of what occurred. All I can say is that involved a wet bed, police and us looking for new accommodation the next morning. Shotguns dislike of both Alt and Killepitsch came in handy, as he was the only one capable of blowing clear, and being able to drive.


So the next day commenced with us in search of a new home, and it was not long before the first buffoon points were earned. We decided to try our luck in Cologne, and headed off in the direction of the Autobahn. The problem was that the good Doctor couldn't quite manage to get his head around the fact that in German, Cologne is in fact "Köln" After driving around aimlessly, I took an executive decision, and we headed back to Dusseldorf. The main reason was that the major was on his way, 1860 were playing there on Sunday, and Sprocket and Dessi had managed to avoid detection at our previous hotel. We would have spent the whole weekend shuttling back and forth, so as we crossed the Rhine back into town, I spotted a Holiday Inn, and we booked ourselves a trio of rooms. So after a small siesta, we were off again. Shotgun stayed in the hotel, enjoying the hospitality of some political party, if memory serves Die Liberlans, and Shouty roused me to go and meet up with Sandro and Queso. First though, I threw up most of the previous nights excesses, and tried to rouse Crespo who was having none of it. Then it was off to meet up at the Red Lounge in Carlsplatz. It was here we found Steve and San enjoying a few Kolschs in tranquil surroundings, which were soon destroyed by decibel charged Shouty, which gave San a headache. We also scored Dessi and Sprcokets first points of the trip, after their beer mat fight descended into a wrestling match, which lead too KC sporting a big fat purple ear.

The rest of the afternoon, and early evening was to be dominated by the Shoutster. We went to an Irish bar to watch the Manchester derby, hooking up with KC and Dessi, plus a freshly arrived Major. Th game was pretty poor, so the Right Honourable decided to start doing shots of vinegar. Then shots of vinegar with Ketchup. The Major, Sprocket and even El Grande Queso took part in knocking back his bevy of concotions. But with out a doubt the worst was his "starfish" It was a bit of lager, with vinegar, two types of mustard, a pinch of salt, pepper and lime, with a dollop of HP sauce. It looked like a turd floating in piss, and even Shouty looked at doubtfully. But not Dessi, who polished it off in one go. At this point Crespo made a PA, just as a confused Queso decided he best take a time out. I found him wandering around aimlessly, and pointed him towards a taxi rank. I my self decided a walk along the river back to our base would be good for the head, although it took me a while, as I got proper lost. After a power snooze, and a shower, I regrouped with Shotgun and Crespo, and went off in search of Shouty.


And he was in fine form when we found him. He had fallen out with Sprocket, and kept making up with him, before falling out with him again. I have video evidence of the state he was in, but he has asked I not post it. Finally he snapped out of it, and started lecturing Shotgun on how brilliant English culture was, and how shit Italian culture was. He even accused Crespo of being to stupid to invent the wheel. Major was ready to watch his beloved Spurs, so once again it was back to O'Reillys. Once inside, Shouty set about a group of Scots at the bar, telling them they were small folk, from a small country, and then telling a bunch of Londoners, that all they did was "Give it all that" and couldn't drink like a northerner, particularly the drinking champion of Europe, before going outside and passing out. It was on e of these two groups that we suspect of committing the Ketchup incident. The game finished, and we decided to get some grub, and hook up with San and Steve at, you guessed it, the world famous pork sandwich shop. Me and Shotgun were first to finish, so went collect Shouty, who was just beginning to come around. It was then that we noticed he was covered in Tomato Sauce, a big dollop was on his head, and he had gotten it all over his hands and arms. We cleaned him up and headed for the Red Lounge.

Now at this point you may be wondering why the Shoutster has not gained any buffoon points Well it is down to what happened next. Now he was still well plastered, only having been awake for about an hour. The Major, who was well greased by this point, got in a yard of Jagermeister, which a few ducked out of, which lead to Shouty knocking back about four of them. This lead to somebody daring him to drink a yard, ie 10 shots, of Killepitsch. He wouldn't agree at first, and as part of our mission to get him to do it, we waved all points scored up to then, and promised to get him back to the hotel. He agreed. I know a few of you have probably seen the video clip on Facebook, and I will post it on here tonight, KC is e-mailing me it when he gets in from work. At first he seemed to wear it well, but after half an hour he was destroyed. We took him for a coffee, but it had no effect. At on point he looked at Queso, told him he loved him, and tears trickled down his cheek. The next minute he was trying to take a leak on a busy street. The effort to get him home was immense, and not without it's fair share of incidents. Steve's ploy was to walk ahead, and he would follow, but this proved flawed, as we turned around to see him spark out on the floor surrounded by policemen. Once again we got him on his feet and moving, this time aided by Sandro, who appeared from nowhere. By now he was hitting the deck every five metres. The funniest one was when he stumbled, and put his hands on a car that was stopped at a red light. The panicked driver threw it into reverse, and once again tarmac beckoned. Finally we got him into his hotel room, and I left him in the recovery position. The it was off back down town.

And an excellent night it was, at our favourite after hours spot, Bannerman 6. The music ranged from old school house tunes too, crazy German folk songs, our favourite can be seen in the post below. Many new German friends were made, and the Kolsch was ice cold. Sprocket garnered some more points for his foolish rose trick, and Sandro ate some more pork sandwiches. The next day was football day, and the weather was cracking. I will do a full report later under an "Away days" thread, hopefully tomorrow. Shotgun scored another point, as he kept asking if Munich were at home, even though we were in Dusseldorf. After the game we met up with Sandro and Steve, who watched Arsenal go down to Wigan, which cheered up the Major no end, and a reprieved Trigger, who had kissed and made up with Queso. The rest of the afternoon was spent drinking lager and eating schnitzel by the banks of the Rhine, on a lovely sunny afternoon. Sunday night was spent, where else, at the Bannerman 6, after a steak dinner. Killepitsch and kolsch was the order of the day, and we stayed out till the club shut. The bouncer, Ludwig, was not to be messed with, although he did send us onto another club that was still open. Alas, only me, Shouty and Queso made it, Crespo and Dessi blagged their way into a house party. Crespo scored his points here. As soon as he got there, he went for a dump, used up all the toilet paper and passed out on the sofa. Shouty and Queso also earned a point each for emptying the dance floor in a Turkish bar, with a heroic display of pissed up dad dancing. They just didn't empty the dance floor. They emptied the whole building, so it was off to another seedy bar, where a persistent prostitute got the full Brister. She was a proper Munter, pissed and wouldn't leave me alone. So I finally snapped, told her "I didn't want to fuck her ten minutes ago, now or in another ten minutes, here is two euros now FUCK OFF and leave me alone!" It worked. She ended up blowing off some other dude in the toilet. The final points of the trip though were scored by Queso. At around eight o'clock in the morning, I'd done enough so chipped. This left him and Shouty, who left about 30 minutes later. Shouty passed out in the cab, leaving the Fromage as last man standing. He decided to call me up, and big him self up as the new champion drinker of Europe. Of course this didn't mean he wasn't wankered, and instead of me rang up the Elster, who was less than impressed by his marathon drinking feat, or the fact he called her a "Good Egg" several times.

The trip home was fairly incident free, but long. Over elven hours long. We cheered ourselves up with the Sandro song, but as we finally got to the M62, even this comedy gem was wearing thin. Would I do it again? You bet your boots I would, although if we are to do another road trip, it won't all be done in one go. I have tried to recap all the buffoonery I can remember, and you may well see an update at a later date, if other tales are recounted. In fact I can think of a few, but it is nearly time for five a side, so i shall wrap this up now. When I get into tonight, or tomorrow after work I will update "Le Grande Buffoon" standings, and post some videos, especially the one of Shouty's drinking feat. I shall post the link to the smugmug gallery.

Crazy German Song

Perhaps you had too be there, but this song packs the dance floor in Dusseldorf. I have absolutely no idea what it means, bit it is now officially Grande Queso's theme tune. Kev sings it best, so next time there is Karaoke on, we shall see if they have it. Sandro also has a new theme tune, but I need to get it blue toothed off Crespo, an will then get it uploaded. We also have to figure out a way to get it onto the King of the Pixies mobile as his ring tone. Thanks to brother Shouty for finding the link to it.

Road Trip!!!!!

Volcanic ash, kiss my arse! At the moment, 8:00 there is a remote chance of us flying, but I reckon I have a better chance of winning the lottery, than us taking off. So a road trip looks imminent. It will be an epic adventure covering 557 mile, a time zone and traversing five countries. It's a hazardous route, and I don't expect everyone to pull through, but beer needs to be drunk! A monument shall be erected to those brave souls who make the ultimate sacrifice.....


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Busy, Busy, Busy

It's been a few hectic days, so yet again I have failed to keep up to the blog. I was going to post something last night at the game, but it was way too cold, so I decided to catch up before the weekly tussle down the Wood. Saturday was Grand National day, and I looked forward with great hope, as thanks to evil M.R.S. member Helen, I had taken possession of the "Fez of Fortune" which all but guaranteed a winner for the Brister. But I should have known better, and the only winner associated with the Fez was of course Helen. One by one my footie bets tumbled, and then my Lottery numbers, begging the question of my Head wear "Fez of Failure?" Only time will tell. Maybe it's because it's a tad on the small side for my massive bonce? Anyway, I have uploaded a gallery of all the Villager misfits trying it on, and doing their best Tommy Cooper's, apart from Gareeeee who decided on a psychotic carpet seller look. I was hoping Shouty would have been sporting his spectacles, as I could have called Morocco Mole for the duration of the evening, but he more than made up for it with his "Istanbul was Constantinople" song and dance routine, which although rubbish, was strangely infectious, and resulted in half the pub singing along. Pick of the bunch, as pictured below, has to be the King of the Pixies, who looks like he has just stepped of a magic carpet. We just need a miniature one for Skanks now, so any of you Blue Peter types, get busy!


Sunday was very much a day of rest, and Monday night I faced off against Paulcano's crew at five a side. Them boys are seriously out of shape. Tuesday was a freezing night at Valley Parade, for a nothing end of season game against Morecambe. Surprisingly we won, which makes it mathematically impossible for us to get relegated to the Conference. Maybe next year, eh? So hear I am, tapping away, psyching myself up for the head to head down the Wood, to hopefully get back on level terms. But the big one is now on the horizon, and there are only two sleeps till Dusseldorf. I am hoping to post from the Fatherland, but considering the alcohol intake predicted, I wouldn't bet on it.

For much Moroccan Madness follow this fez-tacular link.

MoFo Evilness Knows no Bounds

Not content with thwarting our efforts on Wednesday nights down the Wood, the evil rent boy chasers infiltrated the EuroMillions lottery, preventing the Upper George 4 winning the UK lottery raffle. The first three letters required to win were JMF. The toss pots. Hopefully my new "Fez of Fortune" will fend off of the MoFo jinx today, as I have backed rank outsider Joe Lively to earn me some beer tokens, and it is also a double roll over on the national Lottery. More likely my new head gear will in fact turn out to be the "Fez of Failure." At least it will match my "Wristband of Woe, " "underperforming Undies" and not least my "Belt of Bungles"

Aye Oop

Helo, this me posting from my new mobile. The wonders of the modern age, eh? Of course this does not mean I have anything worthwhile to say, I am just borerd. The weather is nice, mind, hope it keeps up for our imminent jaunt too Germany. We Are having a bit of a warm up on Saturday afternoon to watch the Grand National, when we will find out if my new "Fez of Fortune" will live up to it,s name. Thats enough for now, I am off too see if I cab find some porn.

Beer Ad of the Week

Yet another Bud Light effort. They must have to work harder, knowing that the stuff tastes like piss...

Happy Feet Dances to Victory

Sorry about the delay in this weeks gripping account of the doings down the Wood, but I have been wrestling with my new mobile phone, which is currently making me feel like a numb 42 year old. Any way I digress. The two sides were a hastily put together affair, thanks too loads of drop outs. Just to show the gratitude I receive for busting my arse making sure we have ten players, both Clogs and Luklear griped about how unfair the sides were! You just can't win.

The game itself was probably the tightest of the year, and it was all square with five minutes to go. But the one thing the nefarious JMF had to it's advantage was the Human Dynamo, aka Happy Feet. Combine this with Mercenary's heel injury, and it was too much for the valiant Euro Boys to hold out. The gaps were to great in our defence, and the tireless Happy set one up and scored another to cap a two goal victory. The bastard. Anyway that's all I can say, as Get Carter is on the box, and it's got to the bit where Britt Ekland is having a right good wank, so I have completely lost my train of thought.

JMF- Child Catcher, Crespo, Funky, Luklear War and Happy Feet

EURO E- Euro Bri, Clogs, Shouty, The Mecenary and Big Phil

2010 Season

JMF wins - 7


Euro Elite - 6


Draws - 0

A Very Good Friday

So that's the first bank holiday of the year over and done with, and on Friday we took off on the first proper Bender of the year. A most excellent turnout, and pretty much everything went to plan, I think we just about made to all the dive bars, only missing the Commercial, before ending up throwing shapes in Lloyds, and having a night cap in Mingles. Not all of us made the course, but buffoonery was at a premium, apart from a couple of incidents. This doesn't mean there wasn't any stupidity on show, it was on the whole just the normal drunken japery. The two exceptions involved the Child Catcher, who was taken in by my Ronaldinho April first post, asking how much they had paid for him. One point to the youngster. But he did score an agreed three points, along with El Grande Queso, for an unseemly wrestling match outside the Boy and Barrell. The Catcher had been getting a bit uppity for a spell, and the Queso responded by dunking his mobile phone into his pint. The lad didn't look best pleased. After an hour or so of bickering, Stevie offered to fix it. When the Catcher handed over his phone, and yes you could see this coming a mile off, it was rapidly dispensed back into his pint. Result, melee in street. Queso thinks three points are harsh, but it has been passed. Crespo said it was most embarrassing, and that the pair off them were rolling around like a couple of randy rent boys.

That was the main incident of the evening, special mention goes out to the Boy Dazzler, who after a long absence, put in a n epic effort, and along with Helmet, went to work the next day, even though they had their last beer at around four o'clock in the morning. We salute you. And I personally would like to also salute the pubs of Bradford. After months of slagging the city centre off, we had a blinding night, I would recommend anybody visiting the place to eshew the faceless corporate bars around the "West End" and keep it real round the old school saloons of Bradford town. Next up, and it is now only 9 days and counting, Germany. A fine state of affairs indeed.

Updated Buffoon Standings

1. Child Catcher 11 points
2. Trigger 10 points
   
3. Crespo 10 points
4. El Grande Queso 9 points
   
5. Euro Bri 8 points
   
6. Gareeeeeee 4 points
7. Mikey D 3 Points
8. John the Don 2 points
9. Shouty 2 points
   
10. San 1 Point

Top Ten....Bender Etiquette

Our first major Bender of the year is only hours away, and it is shaping up to be a good one, as a good turn out looks on the cards. It is also nice to see some old school members making a welcome return to the fold. But what makes a good piss up? This weeks "Top Ten" will lay out the top tips to ensure that your session with the lads is worthy retelling over and over, rather than whispered in embarrassment as you show up home to the wife at half past eight.

1. Leave It! The most important thing on a jolly old knees up is that everybody gets along. We all get enough strife at home from her indoors and the offspring, so making sure there are no needless fall outs is imperative. Arguments are the only sure fire way of bringing the night to an early close, and there is one rule that should be obeyed above all others. Don't fuck with a guys beer. It is a most gay thing to do, no matter how innocuous you think it is. Ale is a thing of beauty, to be cherished and enjoyed. It us for life, not just for Christmas. Yes I am looking at you Child Catcher.
2. Big it Up. One of my favourite adages is "Don't let the truth stand in the way of a good tale" and when on the lash all embellishments are heartily welcomed. Nothing provokes conversation better than a bold statement, or a tall tale. The fact that a minor tale, told in a correct manner, can become a Bender squad myth is a skill that should be cherished. This tip brings us nicely on to our next one....
3. Don't be Shy. The noise level when a bunch of alpha males gather can be of ear splitting level, so to get one's self noticed, and there by invited out, on a regular basis, means that being a shy, retiring wall flower just isn't going to cut it. The fact that you have absolutely nothing to say is neither here nor there, witness the rise of both Helmet and Shouty amongst the ranks. If this is not your style, try being a spectacular drunkard, in the manner of a Jamon or Dazzler, or a monumentally deluded karaoke singer, such as myself. Remember the squad is like a pride of lions. When you serve no purpose you are discarded.
4. Drink Up! Soft drinks just will not do. Nor will half of pints (unless you are in a country that doesn't serve pints). A bottle is acceptable, but that is about the limit. It doesn't matter that you can barely stand, or may be in dire need of a stomach pump, either take yourself off home, or pass out on the spot. You will be looked after. That is what our collective is all about.
5. Lady Boy! Just one of the derogatory names that is allowed to be used against a fellow member. In fact any slur that calls one's sexuality into question is allowed, we are not after all, the Labour party. Mild teasing concerning ones clothing/appearance is also condoned, but remember, let's keep it civil. One thing never to be raised is any kind of slander against a fellow compadre's better half, unless it is instigated by them. Even then, proceed with caution, as it can be embarrassing once you have sobered up, to know you told your best mate that you would love to bum his life partner.
6. I Love You! The fact that we all question each others commitment to the ways of the heterosexual, doesn't mean we are not in touch with our feminine side, and after a long day on the lash there is nowt wrong with telling one your drinking buddies that you love them. As long as you are drunk that is. Doing it when sober is a little bit circumspect. It is a peculiar trait of ours, that we spend all evening calling each other rent boys, and then once suitably inebriated, tell each that we "Love You!" Sigmund Freud would have had a field day.
7. Catch Up. What you do if you fall be hind, or if there are differing ideas on what course of action to take. For example, if a few want to grab a pie, and the rest want to go to the next boozer ? Fine, we'll catch up. This ain't work, and there are no hard and fast rules about sticking together, no matter what. You can't please all the folk all of the time, and it is good that we can split up for a spell and rejoin, with out any major meetings to determine our next course of action.
8. Rounds. A tricky one this, as if the outing attracts a large attendance, the cost of getting 'em in, can get quite pricey. In such an event it's is always advisable to split up into several small rounds. The best tip I can give, however, is to never get in a round that involves Shouty, as he consumes liquid like a drain. Trying to keep up to him only ever results in an early night, and numerous buffoon points.
9. Promises. Not the one's you make too your beer drinking brethren, Nobody expects you to keep them. No, I mean the one's you make to the old trouble and strife to get yourself out in the first place. Because rest assured, when your laid out in your pit, suffering the mother of all hangovers, she will be riding your ass to get you to keep that hasty promise. tread carefully my friends.
10. Fun. Remember the only reason we piss such a vast amount of money up the wall is because it is a hoot. May the bendering continue for decades too come. See you Friday.
    

Wunderbar News!!

Breaking news concerning the mighty 1860! Brazilian legend Ronaldinho is preparing to sign a pre-contract deal to sign up for the second tier Budesliga team after falling out of favour in Milan. Lowenbrau have put up the money to entice the two time World Player of the Year to the sleeping giant of German football. he is pictured below with Gerhard Wienerburger, chairman of the brewing Goliath.

He has claimed a lifelong ambition to turn out for Der Lowen, and hopes to convince best mate Barry Conlon to join the Bavarian revolution, to usurp local rivals Bayern.

Buffoon Update

A quick addition too the previous "Grande Buffoon" post. Crespo left his car at the Villager the other weekend, and when he showed up to getr it on Sunday morning, found himself parked in. gutted he rang up Andy, the land lord to find out the phone number of the van owner, so he could get him too move it. Andy was only to willing to oblige, pointing out that the number was written down the side of the works van he was staring at. Rack up one point for the Kev-meister.

Updated standings;

1. Trigger 10 points
   
2. Crespo 10 points
3. Euro Bri 8 points
   
4. Charlie Child Catcher 7 points
   
5. El Grande Queso 6 points
   
6. Gareeeeeee 4 points
7. Mikey D 3 Points
8. John the Don 2 points
9. Shouty 2 points
   
10. San 1 Point

Lost Opportunity

I thought I would be unable to relay this tale of woe, but thanks to the guys who play after us down the Wood, I can confide in you the truth of last nights sad demise. Dr Shotgun, being the magnanimous sort, treat us too a new football a few months back, and a fine one it was. But because of an injury, he entrusted me to look after it, and last week, guess who wondered off and forgot it. That's right, Shouty. This meant that last night we had too play with a furry, wrinkly, odd shaped ball, which of course played right into the hands of the testicle loving JMF. We managed to keep ourselves in with a shout, but if contending with a knacker shaped ball was not enough, the Funky Messiah decided to leave a fart of such destructive odour, that it rendered the right flank of the court a no go zone. We have all heard the rumours of what he sticks up there, and it was a smell that quite frankly, I hope to never have to suffer through again. It proved to be an obstacle to far, and the game was up. The bad news for the MoFo is that I have recovered our ball for next week, and I have ordered a supply of nose plugs to eradicate the Funky Anus tactic. The only other highlight of the evening was King Dave taking a shot to the gonads. He barley flinched, earning him the nick name, for one week only of King Vagina. Back too level pegging.

JMF- Jamon, Dead Eye, Funky, Luklear War and King Vagina

EURO E- Euro Bri, Clogs, Shouty, The Mecenary and Big Phil

2010 Season

JMF wins - 6


Euro Elite - 6


Draws - 0

World Cup Venue

Believe it or not, we are only just over two months from the kick off of South Africa 2010. The reason I have raised this, is because we have yet to decide on a venue for our viewings. It was discussed on Saturday, and for the first game the general consensus is that we give the Villager in Wilsden first dibs. It has in the past served the cause well, although 2006 was a bit of a let down, the Con club next door was much the better bet. Of course it doesn't have to be in sheep bothering land, apart from Helmet and Sandro there aren't many of us who live there, but we have tried a few different places before, without much joy. Finding a boozer that strikes the right balance is difficult. You don't want a bunch of knobs who buy an England shirt every four years, and think it makes them the heir to Fabio Capello. You know the type, the one that will start carping on how over rated Wayne Rooney is, because he hasn't scored a hat trick in the first 45 seconds. Females are a bit of a pickle as well. Yes, it's nice to have a few around to fetch you a pint at half time, but you don't want to be inundated with loads of them asking what position Beckham is playing, and commenting on how ugly the Ivory Coast kit is. The again, at the rate Pubs are going out of business, we may have to do with what ever we can find.

Weekly Beer Advert!

An old one for sure, but it's got one thing bang on. Carling is only fit for cleaning the bathroom floor.

Bender Details

The plans for Good Friday are now becoming much clearer. A few of us are heading of down to the Candia on Legrams lane for a spot of lunch, ie meatballs and Peroni for around 12:30, and once finished will be taking a stroll down to the Fighting Cock, where our ETA is around 13:30 hours. From there it will be on to the less salubrious haunts of Bradford town, as we embrk on an epic Binge. So far it looks to be a good turnout, among those making a PA are the Boy Dazzler, Shotgun, Mossy, Big JohnnyM, Lobon, Big Al, Mikey D, Queso, Helmet, Sprocket, Crespo and even the King of the Pixies. If I have missed anybody out, apologies. For the rest of you, grow some stones and get yer arse out!

Le Grande Buffoon 2010

Things got a little busy a few weeks ago, but things kind of cooled off for a spell. Shouty picked himself up a point for texting out his new mobile number, without saying who it was from.... This weekend Crespo was in dumb blond mode. Yes, I scored a point, rather harshly, when I miss heard something Patty said. He told us he couldn't make our Good Friday Bender, because he was off to the boat race. I thought he said "Motor race" and asked who was racing. Crespo was all over me on that one, and with Helmet and Queso to hand to back him up, I resigned myself to my score. But then our lanky hero, still flush at catching me out, turned to Patty and asked, straight faced "So where the race then?" Patty looked at me, and then Kev, before answering "London." Deuce, as they say in tennis, and a score chalked up for Crespo. But all this pales, apparently, in comparison to a rumoured ten pointer by a squad member. It happened a couple of weeks back, but my sources tell me it is a nailed on ten pointer, a veritable "Buffoon" rating. The person who it involves, will make a great impact on the race for the Maillot Jaune 2010. Add the upcoming Bender, along with our imminent sojourn to Dusseldorf, and it could be a golden month in the annals of stupidity.

Updated standings;

1. Trigger 10 points
   
2. Crespo 9 points
3. Euro Bri 8 points
   
4. Charlie Child Catcher 7 points
   
5. El Grande Queso 6 points
   
6. Gareeeeeee 4 points
7. Mikey D 3 Points
8. John the Don 2 points
9. Shouty 2 points
   
10. San 1 Point

Cant Come Soon Enough

Not the German trip, although the same applies, but Good Friday, our first official Bender of the Spring. I am not expecting a huge turnout, a lot of Evil M.R.S. have made plans for various members, but there should be a few. The itinerary is is a simple. Candia for Fortitude, ie meatballs, and then round the dive bars of Bradford town. It will be an early-ish start, the guy at the greasy spoon is looking to be shut up for the holidays by around two o'clock, so for those wanting line their bellies there can be no lolly gagging. The we head for the Fighting Cock, Beehive, Harp of Erin, Star, Castle, Commercial and Boy and Barre ll to name but a few. Anyone needing to join up later, give me a call, and I will direct you accordingly. Should be a hoot.

Take, Take, Take.....

We all know that the current difficulties we are all in were pretty much caused by a bunch of rich bankers, whose epic avarice finally caused the meltdown of the financial system. The folk who should be making sure that such a situation didn't arise, were far to busy flushing our tax money down the shit hole on duck houses, second homes, or alternatively were pushing through umpteen new laws to make our lives just that little bit less enjoyable. Of course when the proverbial hit the fan, it was yet again the good old British tax payer that was left to pick up the tab, to the tune of about £300million pounds a day in borrowed cash. Of course this brass needs paying back, and I don't think the Chinese are in the business of letting countries set up an IVA. This means a hike in taxes and a cut in public spending, something that has reached Herculean proportions during the current governments 13 year tenure. So what plan have our esteemed leaders conjured up? They are to rinse the good folk who have propped up the economy, and who provide a healthy wage to them, and keep them in splendorous retirement. On other words, me and you.

It's not just our pay packets that are trimmed. No. The few treats we enjoy are also spanked. Enjoy a tab? Pay up. A few pints over the weekend. Pay up. Fancy a drive to enjoy the country side? Pay up. And for what? These brilliant public services they are supposed to fund. Where are they? The town I live in, Bradford is getting a city centre park, that nobody wants, foisted upon it, at a cost of millions, yet schools throughout the district are starved of basic equipment. Our road tax and petrol duty are among the highest in Europe, yet they are continually choked with traffic, for road works that seem to have nobody working on them. The list is endless, but the question is: Why?

For years I was not sure of the answer, but I think I know it now. It's quite simple, they hate us. We are not wealthy enough them to be of any use, and the fact that we can vote them out of office infuriates them. Witness the expenses fiasco. Barely a handful have apologised, whilst the majority claim they have done no wrong, and attempt to thwart all attempts to make them repay their ill gotten gains. Now we are finding out about the fees charged for lobbying on the behalf of large corporations, whilst jetting around the globe on "Fact Finding" missions while hectoring us about the evils of our Carbon Footprint. And now that we all can see them for the conniving, self serving swine that they are, how do they get even? The Budget. So exactly how can we make them see that they work for us, and the other way around? Vote them out. I know mine is a small voice that will be lost in the cacophony of drivel about to be spouted in the run up to a general election, but I do have an idea. A pretty good one I think. If we were all to vote for anybody but the MP who currently holds their seat, we would end up with an entirely new body of representatives. It might not be the perfect solution, but it would oust every single one of the self serving wankers who currently sit. Maybe then, they get a taste of what it's like to make your way in the real world.

STOP THE NONSENSE

Late Show

With only two minutes remaining, and down by three goals, all appeared lost down the Wood last night, as the Righteous looked to have surrendered the lead in the race to be kings of 2010. After the lying cheating scoundrels of the JMF had fashioned their lead, in thanks mainly to the hithero unknown finishing ability of King Dave, and a large dollop of skulduggery, it took a monumental push, and a shed load of skill from young One Scoop to not only drag the Righteous level, but earn a two goal win. A shell shocked MoFo were ready to call the cops, to report a theft, but settled instead for a collective bleating. It is lambing season after all......

JMF- Jamon, Dead Eye, Funky, Luklear War and King Dave

EURO E- Euro Bri, Two Scoops, One Scoop, Crespo and Big Phil

2010 Season

JMF wins - 5


Euro Elite - 6


Draws - 0

Bantams 0 Magpies 0

A grim Northern night, and a pitch that was in a pretty poor state, was never going to lend itself to a classic encounter, although the match wasn't that bad. County applied all the early pressure, but the Bantams defence kept it's shape, and didn't make any stupid mistakes, so the early waves of attack petered out. City found their feet, and gradually made a game of it. Daley tried his hardest, but the conditions were not made for his style of play. The second half started well for the home side, and an otherwise excellent Hanson, let himself down with twp misses that should have at least tested the keeper. As the game wore on though, our sides lack of fitness began to show, and the Magpies could quite easily have bagged all three points. But they didn't, and to be honest a draw was probably a fair result. After the chaos of Stuarts last couple of months in charge, it is nice to see some order restored to the side, but it seems to me that Mr Taylor is sussing out who is staying, and who is going to be looking for a new team. I have no problem with this, but I kind of expect that the season will start to drift now, as we don't really have owt to play for. Just hope he get's the right players in, and hangs around to see it through.

Pie Rating- I did have a picture of Mickey D and Queso sampling the fine steak and kidney pies. But my cheap ass phone won't upload said photo, so you will have to make do their grades. Queso was most impressed and gave it an 8.5, before realising this might have been a tad over the top, and down grading to an 8. Mickey D, whose pie was slightly burned underneath, gave his a 7, which translates to an average of 7.5. I gave the savouries a miss, but am committed to setting new record of five pies during a game on Easter Monday.

Fortune Smiles

At last, the rest of the Bundesliga 2 fixture list has been released, and the Game between Fortuna Dusseldorf and 1860 is on Sunday the 18th of April at 13:30. Get in. This means we shall have an early lunch at Hooters, followed by masses of beer and football. It should be a decent game, Der Lowen are on a three game win streak and are currently only four points off Fortuna, although the eleven point gap to the play off places means a promotion push is unlikely. I am just happy we will get to see the lads play this year. The Shoutster may be interested to know that his second German team Gladbach are playing just up the road in Gelsenkirchen on the Saturday before, as they face Shalke.

Weekly Beer Advert

I have chosen this Brazilian commercial for it's gratuitous arse shot. However, if the beer is so cold, how come her nipples are not pointing due north?

Cold Turkey

Sorry about the lack of of action on the here web thingy over the last few weeks. I have fallen prey to CoD: Modern warfare 2, and have neglected my musings for far too long. I hope too have broken it's spell over me, and will be pulling my finger out, as over the next few weeks plenty looks to be in the offing. I aim to resurrect the Good Friday Bender, which has fallen by the way side over the last few years, and not long after, we don our wrist bands, and take off back to the Fatherland to support Der Lowen. We have a good squad this time round, at the last count 12. This is all a precursor to the 2010 World Cup, which will hopefully coincide with a glorious summer. Heaven knows we are due one. rest assured, I have removed my thumb from my arse, and will be devoting more time to Bender Squad doings.

Top Ten....................Away days

I know I have been a bit slack of late, see above, so I am reviving the Top Ten thread that I started a couple of months back. To relaunch this series of postings, I am going to rate my favourite venues to watch a game of football. The criteria is that it must still be standing, which rules out sure fire top tenners Highbury and Maine Road. And that is it. I have ruled out Valley Parade, as it is my teams home ground, and there fore cannot really be considered an Away day. So here goes, my ten best, up till now, places to watch the beautiful game.

1.Griffin Park, Brentford, London
To an old romantic like me, this is how it should be. A small ground, capacity under 13,000, smack in the borough of the team it represents, surrounded by a pub on each corner. And great pubs they are, proper football places, full of fans downing some pre match ales. The stadium is an old four sided one, with some terracing, that crowds right up to the pitch. This lends it's self to hurling cheers and jeers at the players, and also baiting the home fans, who are sat mere feet away. Grounds like this are becoming a rarity, and this one needs to be enjoyed quickly, as the club owners are looking to find some soulless multi purpose shed on an industrial estate in the middle of nowhere.

2. Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, Madrid
This is a personal choice, moist of the Bender Squad who have been to both prefer the Camp Nou, but to my mind, this wins hands down. It is a massive structure, and although there are one's with a bigger capacity, this one just seems bigger. The place has a definite aura about, although the game we watched, featuring all the original Galacticos, was a bit of a dud, so the atmosphere was a bit flat. The next time I visit, I will make sure that it is for a higher end game, although I know I will pay a pretty price for the privilege.

3. Goodison Park, Liverpool
Anfield, which is just across the park, has the reputation one of the worlds great football venues, but I like the more down to Earth home of Everton, which to me is a little more genuine. Because their support is not as disparate as Liverpool's (who at full time jump into their motors and take off back to the four corners of the country), there is more going off both before and after the game, especially in the pubs round the ground. Everton fans also come across as less arrogant, actually showing a bit of an interest in your team, even when they are uber unglamourous Bradford city.

4. St James Park, Newcastle
A bit of an anomaly, a massive stadium that is still down town. And with Newcastle having one of the best pub/bar scenes in the land, it is an excellent place to visit. The away section is up in the Gods, and the Geordie's staunch belief that they have a God given right to one of the games Goliaths is a bit grating, but I will take this place over a million Reebok Stadiums. In fact the biggest problem you will have on an away day here, is not getting too drunk, and missing the game.

5. Loftus Road, Shepard's Bush, London
Another London venue, down to the facxt that they are all located in residential ares, which always have a good selection of pubs near by, which helps foster a feeling of being on a proper day out, rather than just an excursion to a different stadium. I recommend the Springbok, which is within spitting distance of the ground. The layout of the stadium is also different. It has the look of a two tier shoe box. The vibe around the place is also more laid back than most of it's City rivals, which is why it places higher than some it more illustrious rivals. That and the day we went was the day that the bantams took charge of their destiny the season we made the Premier League.

6. Borussia-Park, Mönchengladbach
It goes against all that I preach, this one, and it is the only purpose built out of town facility you will find in this list. Why? It may well have something to do with the gorgeous spring day weather, or the exciting 2-2 draw that was played out. More likely it was down to the fact the me and Shouty were in the middle of a three day bender, and were pretty clattered by the time we arrived. Still, the Gladbach fans know how to raise the roof, and combined with our Herculean intake of beer, combined for the perfect day at the football. Fucking magic it was.

7. Camp Nou, Barcelona
I found this place a little bit of a let down. May be because it was our first annual footie jaunt to a foreign stadium, and I was expecting a little bit too much. Don't get me wrong, it is very impressive, and when the crowd sing the club song before kick off a chill runs up the spine, but for me it still lacked a little something. But the lads who went thought it was fantastic, and it still sparks a healthy debate as to which is better, Nou camp or the Bernebeau? You know my preference, and I would suggest to anybody reading this, that they sample both. Great clubs, great cities.

8. Allianz Arena, Munich
All right I lied. I couldn't resist including the home of TSV 1860 on my list. Yes it is a multi purpose out of town stadium, that takes about 40 minutes to get to by train, but two of the greatest days of my life were on the days that I went to see my second favourite team play. One was during the Oktoberfest, which is the most legendary day of the Bender squad, and the second was not far behind it. My advice is to tie in a an 1860 game with a trip to the Oktoberfest, where after the game the tents are rammed with local fans.

9. White Hart Lane, London
Yet another London ground. This one, unlike the other two listed, is not a friendly or laid back place, witness the "No Away Fans" in the pubs closest the ground, but this give it a frisson of danger, that is lacking in most grounds these days. Not as menacing as the old Man City ground at Maine Road, but it keeps you on your toes. The pub near the Tube station, which was playing a load of Chas and Dave songs was priceless.

10. Blundell Park, Cleethorpe
Home too the oldest stand in England, that is still in use, Grimsby Towns ground is a proper throwback. It is tatty round the edges, but has a charm all of it's own. The main reason it ranks so high in my list is the bar under the away supporters stand. It's like a little pub right in the middle of the ground. The stand also has a really low roof which is great for acoustics.

All Square

A topsy turvey game down the Wood last night saw the evil jism lovers of the JMF prevail by three goals to draw level in the 2010 title race. Two evenly matched sides played out a tit for tat game, before the MoFo hit their purple patch. Most games are decided on who scores the most during their purple patch, it was the lame-o's who had found theirs first. Happy Feet was at his mazy best, and he opened up the Righteous rear guard at will. The main beneficiaries were Luklear and King Dave, who made up for a strangely wayward Dead Eye. But if he was merely wayward, Two Scoops was the epitome of profligate. Granted he was not alone, as I squandered my fair share, but the Scoopmeister was in cows back side mode, as his efforts flew everywhere but on target. This saw us trail by six with time running down, but a big push at the end, with Mercenary and Shouty picking up the scoring challenge, meant we got back to within a brace. Of course when chasing a game holes are left at the back, and we could get no nearer. So it's back to square one, as the early good form of the Elite has dried up.

JMF- Happy Feet, Dead Eye, Funky, Luklear War and King Dave

EURO E- Euro Bri, Two Scoops, The Mercenary, Shouty and Big JohnnyM

2010 Season

JMF wins - 5


Euro Elite - 5


Draws - 0

A Very Good Friday

Enough is enough. Enough of the rotten economic outlook. Enough of Winter. It is about time we remembered what life is all about, and got back into the groove. So this upcoming Good Friday we are going out and having it. The plan is to fortify ourselves with some Candia meatballs and Peroni, and then to take off on a mission around the dive bars of Bradford. Yes money is tight, but sometimes you have to say "What the Fuck!" and get back to basics. This summer is a World Cup one, so we need to be in peak beer drinking condition to meet the heavy schedule that lies before us. So clear your diaries, tell the missus you are working and copper up, we have been far too sensible of late. I will post times nearer the time.

Bantams 2 Shots 1

A brief report on the City game from Saturday. The reason for it's shortness is simple, as I was waylaid at work, and didn't arrive at Valley Parade till half time. Of course I missed all the important action, it was 2-1 when I arrived, and it finished that way. It was good though to see Omar Daley looking like his old self. Quick off the mark, he opened the game up nicely, although his pitiful dive probably did deserve the card it garnered. But the player who really caught my eye was Bolder, who added some much needed zip to our midfield, which has looked far to pedestrian for much of the season. Imagine a lower league Jimmy Bullard, and you get an idea of his playing style. If this performance is anything to go by, he could prove to be a very good addition. Of course it is a victory that has come too late to see us make a run at the playoffs, losses at Port Vale and Aldershot mean that all though we style have a mathematical chance at a playoff spot, it is highly unlikely that it will be the case.

What Goes Around...

Comes around, as the old adage goes, and the game down the Wood gave credence to this old saying. A few weeks back, the JMF were suffering from a spate of injuries, and had to play against a Righteous Elite, that were bolstered by a young an excellent player covering for an absent team mate. The result was a comprehensive win for the boys in white. The arse munchers whined about the sides, but I said at the time, that these things had a habit of evening themselves out. And tonight they did. From the off the ass bandits looked to have a stronger team, and to win, we were fully aware that we needed to operate at our optimum. Two injuries put paid to our bright start, and in the end the MoFo did us like they do their rent boys. Texas Style. For those of you not familiar with Wibsey slang, this equates to a dry bumming. I could not shake a dead leg, Clogs picked up a toe injury, and we fell to pieces. In fact, we did well to score over ten goals, but we were still well beat. Shouty and the Child Catcher did their utmost, but Happy Feet and Dead Eye ran us ragged. After a bright start to the campaign, we find our advantage cut to a single game. Game on, as they say.

JMF- Happy Feet, Dead Eye, Funky, Luklear War and Jamon

EURO E- Euro Bri, Clogs, The Mercenary, Shouty and Child catcher

2010 Season

JMF wins - 4


Euro Elite - 5


Draws - 0

Weekly Beer Ad

Once again Bud Light. This advert looks like it may have been inspired by one of the Funky Messiahs wet dreams.

One Door Closes....

And another one opens. The current Grande Buffoon title holder, has unfortunately had to withdraw from the impeding sojourn to Dusseldorf. Work commitments have foiled his planned japery, and he will now be hoping to instead make the Belgium beer festival jaunt in September. But this has provided an opening for another member, and Helmet had promised a spot to Trigger, so instead of the Champ, we will be taking the current leader along instead. It has been suggested that we get a homing device of some description for him, but he is big enough, and ugly enough to look after himself. But he is not the only surprise addition. Dance Matt and the Major are making the trip up from Munich and Basle, to swell the numbers attending to twelve. I have now started an official countdown, and it can't come soon enough. We are at the arse end of winter, and we need an epic Bender badly to shake of the dark months torpor. 1860 still haven't confirmed kick off times for that weekend, which could still be the fly in the ointment of our plan, but even if we miss the game, I am sure we can find plenty to entertain ourselves.

As for Der Lowen, they have been on a pretty good run of results lately, although a lack of consistency looks to have condemned them to mid table mediocrity. The same cannot be said of Fortuna Dusseldorf, who are pushing hard for promotion. Fingers crossed. If not, we should be able to catch a game over the weekend, as many of Germany's top teams (Koln, Dortmund, Shalke, Leverkusen, Moenchegaldbach) are all in the same region.

Dog Days

I know there hasn't been a whole lot of activity on the blog lately, but it is with good reason. There just ain't fuck all going on. At first I figured it was the never ending recession. The I kind of thought it might be down to our age. None of us are getting younger, that's for sure. There was an illegal rave down in town last weekend, and the first I heard of it was via the Telegraph and Argus. Boy, did that make me feel ancient. (Did bring back a few good memory trips mind) Still, there was a an item on the local news on Wednesday that made me realise that there is fuck all going off in general. Myself, Shouty, Gaaarrreeeee and the Mercenary were shooting the breeze in the Villager after the England game when the local news came on the telly. Now West Yorkshire is not some back water rural county. It is home to over two million folk, but the second lead story was that a dog had escaped. That's right a dog had gotten loose from it's garden. They even had close circuit TV images of it sniffing a lamp post, and a hot line to report any sightings. I kid you not. Was this a one off? I tuned into Look North, the BBC equivalent too Calender, and the second story on this days report concerned a story about a teaching assistant taking the piss out of a kid on Facebook. Another busy day then.

So it isn't us who are surrendering to the vagaries of time. Yes we are all skint, but the truth is we live in a place where jack is going down at the moment. But with spring literally a couple weeks away, I sense things are getting ready to go up a notch. Well at least I hope so, I haven't been this sober, for this long, for ages. The fact that I am writing this, on a Friday night, after a second consecutive Friday night in is freaking me out a bit....

Late Burst Seals Win

A strangely muted game down the Wood on Wednesday night. This doesn't mean it wasn't a good game, in fact for most of the contest it was an excellent one, but it just seemed to be lacking in bite. There were no major arguments, Hell we even got a penalty that they didn't contest. For fifty minutes it could have gone either way, but the younger legs of the shirt lifters prevailed, a five goal burst in the last quarter put the game beyond doubt. King Dave was probably the standout, for once hitting the back of the net more often than the roof. Luklear's flying head butt of the wall was pretty amusing as well. Let's hope next week proves more controversial.

JMF- King Dave, Dead Eye, Funky, Luklear War and Jamon

EURO E- Euro Bri, Two Scoops, The Mercenary, Shouty and Big Phil

2010 Season

JMF wins - 3


Euro Elite - 5


Draws - 0

To Be Sure...

After months of debate, voting and a pinch of skulduggery, we have finally alighted upon an "Official Beer of the Bender Squad." It appears that the final vote count is legitimate, and hence forth, Guinness will be known as our standard brew. Rolling Rock, very much a surprise finalist, put up a good show, but it was always up against it. The winner will have it's logo shown down thwe side bar, just above the links section. I will take a couple weeks to try and think up another ongoing thread to uncover another "Official..." thread, but for now, over to you, Rutger........

The Winner

Under the Weather

Sorry for the lack of action on this blog over the last few days, but I haven't been my usual self. All seemed set fair for an excellent weekend on Friday. I even stayed in to make sure I was operating at maximum effectiveness for the following day. So I was more than a bit put out to awake on Saturday morning with what can only be politely described as the squirts. At first I thought it would be just an hour or so thing, and continued to look forward to a day at the Bantams, were I had blagged a seat in hospitality, and then on too a Jannetta shindig in the evening, an event always good for plenty of high jinks. But as the clock ticked on I couldn't shake 'em. Still I figured if I went to the game I would come around, you know, a few beers, a pie, maybe even some chips, and I would be as good as new. The Elster considered my lager cure for diarrhea as pure folly, but I laughed, and said "Nonsense! There is nothing that a few ales won't put right." But I really hate to say this, she was right. To be honest, chugging ice cold bottles of lager doesn't make diarrhea go away. In fact the opposite happens. It makes it worse. Rest assured, there was no Munich incident, but it was only so by pure willpower. I even only managed to down four bottles of lager, even though they were complimentary, and I could have drunk as many as I saw fit. My plans for a night of tom foolery were scuppered, and the rest of the weekend was spent laying out on the sofa feeling sorry for myself, interspersed with sprints up the stairs. Lovely. I did, however, finally discover something beer was not good for. I reckon the next time I am struck with Delhi Belly, Tabasco covered Habeneros would a better remedy than lager.

I am, thankfully, returning better health, and will aspire to catch up tomorrow.