the things I do for my team!
Ok, picture this. My life is shit. Just shit. I have a failed marriage behind me, am 28 and living at my parents house, where I am not even allowed a hamster. My aching genitals havn't seen ladyfruit in quite some time. I live in Hull. Got it.... ok, then, I meet a girl on t'interweb, shes from Australia, we fly around the world with each other, fall in love, marry and I move to Sydney. I blag a job where I do bugger all and get paid a fortune and have a nice tan.
Ok, scene is set.
Then, and only then do Hull FC(rugby league you southern nutsuckers) start fucking winning. We get through to the final of the cup, against Leeds, a city, team and people I hate (and I know, used to run a pub there its terrible, even worse than Hull). I decide I have to go. My dad rings me and after an hour of emotional blackmail which ends with a sentence containing the words PILGRIMAGE and DUTY, i decide I HAVE to go. My wife sort of disagrees, but I don't care, and I lie to the bank that a relative is terminally ill (i know, i'm going to hell) and they lend me $5,000.
Work cant give me much time off, so i decide to fly out on the Thursday, arrive Friday game on Saturday, fly back Sunday arrive Sydney 7am Tuesday work 5am Wednesday. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but wasn't in retrospect.
Flew out, everything all good via Kuala Lumpur, lovely flight landed Manchester, Mums cooking for the first time in 2 years, then the game in Cardiff where we won...much Guinness consumed, and set off back on the Sunday. Flight to KM, shite... plane hit turbulance so bad the oxygen masks dropped, but ONLY IN FIRST CLASS! only the rich breathe apparently? Then I got to Sydney. The guy on the desk.... "This your passport is it?" me.. "yeees, why?" "doesn't look like you" me.."well its 9 years old isnt it, do you look like you did 9 years ago?" then and only then do my tired, jetlagged eyes look up. He's a burns victim. I cringe and start to gibber complete shite at this guy and then he says "you only left Sydney on Thursday?" I reply yes and he nods at this guy who has appeared from nowhere, and he takes me to this room and they start asking me questions about my trip, who did i meet etc, how come i spent 48 hrs travelling for 36 in the UK. what drugs did I have up my arse? what WMD's had bought and arranged for the mormans of Wollongong to attack the opera house with? By the time he'd finished my confused, drunk and jetlagged mind was agreeing that yes, I was responsible for the Bodyline test series in the 1930's and yes, I had raped Rolf Harris.
He then looks through my bag and finds my Challenge Cup match programme. He says "did you go over for the game?" I reply yes and he says "why didn't you tell me? my cousin played in that match" Turns out his cousin is Shane Mcmemamy who has played for Hull for 4 yrs. He let me go, just as the other guy was coming through the door with the gloves on. A close shave and no bloody mistake.
Just looked at this as I post it and realised there was no need for telling you all how shit my lfe was before I moved to Aus. fuck it anyway!
(airliebird Has now found Twiglets in Sydney!!!!!!! yay!, Thu 9 Mar 2006, 6:40, Reply)