| The Warky Report: Scum, Derby and all that jazz (a/h) 23:39 - Feb 13 with 863 views | Warkystache |
Apologies for the other day. I had a belter of a report written, all about my Sunday down the pub with Tel, watching us lose to that lot. I'll reprise it here for your enjoyment.
Last Thursday, we had an epiphany. We were standing in the newsagents, watching an old boy walking his Scottish terrier, watching it sniff the bottom of the lamppost outside then casually cock its leg. "Wish I could get away wiv doin' that" muttered Tel. Seconds later, it started squatting. "I bet you wish you could do that as well" I remarked. Tel grunted. We watched it have a sh*t. I still don't know why. The old boy left it on the kerb and pulled the dog away. "Bleedin' marvlous, yer old codger. Just leave it there for me to sort, that's right, don't bovver scoopin' it". Then Tel said "Pass us one o'them East Anglians an' I'll cover it wiv that". Why he chose the EADT for this dubious honour is anyone's guess. Poor Stuart Watson copped a faceful of dogsh*t.
The epiphany struck me as I watched Tel shove the 'paper parcel' in the bin. This is what it's come to for Town. Good honest copy from Lambert, Skuse and Chambers used to clear up sh*t. And I knew from that very moment we'd get b*gger all at Carrow Road on the Sunday.
Saturday came, fairly spring-like compared to the cold we'd had recently. I had a stinking hangover. Tel and I went for a curry on the Friday night. We weren't supposed to. Mrs Tel wanted him home to sort out their tax returns. But we went. She dropped us, with only a bit of ill-grace that he'd defied her. "She wotches Eastenders an' Corrie an' all that palaver anyway, dunt need me there for gawd's sake". He salved his conscience further by reminding himself he'd booked a five star hotel as a treat on their trip to Marbella at the end of the month. "Cost a packet" he admitted, "But she's wurf evry penny". He ordered the beers and we sat at the table, eating poppadoms messily and eyeing our fellow diners. "Couple in the corner's 'avin' a bit on the side" remarked Tel as the poor couple in question locked eyes over their lamb bhunas. I thought they were just married and enjoying a night out without the kids, myself.
We got a bit drunk after that. Then we got even drunker. We ended up leaving the local pub at 1am and ordered a cab. Mrs Tel wouldn't have come to pick us up if we'd begged her, which was fair enough. "She'll be in bed by ten" drawled Tel, swaying as he stopped to squint as his mobile phone, looking for the cab number. The screen lit his face blue, making him look like a smurf version of Ian Dury. We'd ended the night on shots at his insistence. A tenner for 6, one was called a Rough Shag. It tasted like sweet dishwater. Tel did 18. No, he ORDERED 18, but then ended up giving six to me. They all tasted alike, a bit like when we used to have the Corona man delivering our pop in the early '80's and then couldn't tell lemonade from cherryade, except one was redder than a pillar box.
We staggered to the cab and he took me home first. Tel wound the window down and tried to kiss me. Fortunately, I was looking for a dropped quid at the time. He then loudly exclaimed "See yer Sundy, big boy, we'll 'ave some more fun then!" The cab driver gave me a sly wink and then puckered his lips and made kissing gestures. I was f*cking pleased I never tipped him.
Tel wasn't working Saturday. I wasn't surprised. He'd have had to have been superman to drink all that and still open up at 5.30am. I got in the shop at nine, guts groaning, head full of potholes, a bit queasy. I bought a paper and decided I needed a walk. So I had one. All round Shotley. Ended up at the Shipwreck at 4, where I chanced a pint of Ghost Ship and it stayed down, despite protest.
Sunday dawned with me in a better health, having stayed in on Saturday night to save a bit of dough. I was meeting Tel in the pub at eleven. He fancied their Sunday carvery after the match. We were taking three other blokes he knows, all West Ham fans, but handy in case any irate Spurs fans demanded the big telly for their match v Leicester.
The West Ham contingent (Boz, Jimmy and Leyton) stood at the bar as we got in, supping pints of Stella, watching some rubbish with that bloke who used to do Soccer AM. Boz is the only bloke I've ever met to have "MCAVENNIE" tattooed with one letter on each knuckle. Jimmy was in the ICF when he was a young man. Tel told me casually as we queued for our pints. He was six foot three and looked like he could do you serious harm if riled. He was as nice as pie. But then i bet they said that about the Krays.
The game started and we conceded. Tel choked on a dry-roasted peanut. "Bleedin' 'ell, aint even sipped me drink yet" he cried. The Hammers chortled. We played quite well after that, without ever troubling the goal. The punch-up at half time could've been the second Rumble in the Jungle, given the reaction by Tel and the Hammers. "Gorn Lambo, deck'im!" yelled Tel, as it all got a bit heated on the touchline. Jimmy said "Iss that beardy b*stard star'ed it, should smack 'im one for that". Farke winked. Tel said it reminded him of a flasher he'd known in Barking in the '70's. "Ole Billy Bobnotes" he told us. "Used ter flash at schoolgirls darn Essex Road". "Wot 'appened to 'im?" asked Jimmy. "Died - he was seven'ee when I was 16" said Tel. We sipped our pints.
Then the Spurs fans came in and said not to worry, they'd got the game on in the pool room and were playing a few frames in between chances. They too sniggered when they asked us the score. One even did a quiet "Goin' Down" refrain, til the Hammers trio glared at him. He quickly shut up and went back to watch his Wembley heroes.
We lost 3-0, but, surprisingly, played OK. It didn't feel as bad as, say, that 5-1 at our place under Jewell. Tel was happy. He'd had money on Norwich winning.
We ate lunch. It was OK. The apple pie'n'ice cream pud was the best bit. We then had a few more drinks, and then Mrs Tel met us in the car at 5.
So to tonight. I didn't go. Work and that. I was in London today and didn't get home until 7, then had to briefly nip round my parents' to pick up an occasional table my Mum didn't want any longer. It looks lovely in my lounge.
I watched on the ubiquitous red button and we deserved our fourth win tonight. Shame it never came. Like an ever decreasing circle, we wend our way downwards to Charlton and possibly Colchester next season. Never mind. Only a game. |  |
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| The Warky Report: Scum, Derby and all that jazz (a/h) on 23:48 - Feb 13 with 806 views | waveneyblue |
As always, a thing of beauty. |  | | |
| The Warky Report: Scum, Derby and all that jazz (a/h) on 06:57 - Feb 14 with 679 views | Ftnfwest |
I was waiting for Blake to be one of the West ham fans so you could deck him when he sniggered 'Going down'! |  | | |
| The Warky Report: Scum, Derby and all that jazz (a/h) on 07:10 - Feb 14 with 669 views | Benters2 |
Brilliant Warky. |  | | |
| The Warky Report: Scum, Derby and all that jazz (a/h) on 08:31 - Feb 14 with 613 views | Westover |
If you don't write books you should Brilliant. | | | |
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