Swansea City on Tour - By PGF.

The dust had settled over Ballboygate. Anxious waits subsided as tickets arrived through the letterbox. The waiting was over. Swansea City were travelling to Wembley for the 2013 Capital One Cup Final to meet Yorkshires finest – Bradford City.

The bus was waiting outside the Llberty with only Dill and the driver on it. “I’ll go and get the bastards now” said Dill, “We’re already twenty minutes late”

He sauntered across the car park and opened the door of Frankie and Bennies. The noise hit him straight away as a rabble of 30 Jacks belted out the final lines of Max Boyces famous ballad, “...and we all knew what she wanted aye, his photo of Michel Vorm, and we were singing ..” “SHUUUUUUUUUUUUTUP” said Dill. “The bus is leaving in 5, either get on it or your staying here”

“”Fark Orf” was the most common reply, but the rabble duly slung down their pints, grabbed their bags and slowly made their way to the bus, signing another chorus on the way “...and we were singing, hymns and arias...”

The driver looked grim as he realised he had to spend the next two days with this lot.

No one really knew each other, but a couple of pints in F&B had sorted that out. There had already been two fights with Knackered and Dragon having a bruising encounter in the car park, while FFS had knocked himself out while headbutting a brick wall.

On they came. Dill tries to organise the seating arrangements because apart from getting pissed, his only other skill is organising trips. He soon realises he is fighting a losing battle as 30 stubborn middle aged men clamber on to the bus. “I am not sitting there”, I am not sitting next to him, he called me a ****er last week””I am not sitting next to the bogs” are all common complaints.

On they come, Jager, Ivor, Dragon, FFS, SA9, Swimaway, trundles left, foot, VETCHETERIAN, Knackered, Norway Jack, campionjack, Swantastic, neveroffsidereff, SA9, Ash, Aswan, Billybjack, Mr Gullible, bonyjack, Mabon are amongst the recognisable faces. A few more introductions follow as the ale loosens the tongues.

Dill, the bus organiser. He is always pissed, reads the Western Mail and likes women, gambling and non PC jokes, not necessarily in that order. Jager, said he wasn’t going but has been kidnapped while walking through Pontardawe. He is our statsman and routeplanner.

A tall man climbs on to the bus in clergical form. It is Ivor. In real life Ivor is a vicar in the Sketty area. The voice of reason, he carries a Bible under his right arm, but inside is a copy of “Shoot” January 1974 edition. His passion is preaching football.

Dragon arrives. He is wearing a horrible blue baseball hat, trainers. No one can sit next to him as he takes up two seats. He is wearing an Everton top because he hates Liverpool, is already farting and ready to stink out the toilet after drinking two pints of Bass in The Beaufort Arms, Mumbles.

FFS is sitting next to Dill for now. He still has restraint marks on his arms and these are made worse as he is tied to the chair in the front of the bus. The bus fills up and there is a cards school half way down the aisle, with Swimaway, taffvalerowdy, trundles left foot, VETCHETERIAN and swantastic playing three card brag.

SA9 has been place in charge of glossy magazines and he is soon joined by Ash, Aswan, Mr Gullible, bonyjack and Mabon. Terrorwit has brought his Subbutteo and placed it nicely over the back seat with Ivor ready to organise a tournament.

There are about ten empty seats as we have a few picks up the way, but there are two empty ones at the front. “They are for Dai and ChicoTime” said Dill. “I’ll get them from the Premier Lounge” He disappears and comes back in a rush. “Dai is on his way, but....” He is interrupted by a loud roar as Dai appears.

He is in full Swans kit, top, shorts, socks and boots. “What else would you expect from the Swans number one fan, you bastards” laughs Dai, as he tucks his Daily Telegraph under his arm. The bus is in uproar, but Dill still can’t contain himself “LOOK WHO’s COMING” he orders as the doors of The Premier Lounge open. Out steps a tall, tanned, strapping young man with a ponytail. “It’s Chico”.

There is mayhem as the Spaniard steps on the bus, takes a bow and sits next to Dai. “CHICO, CHICO, CHICO, CHICO, CHICO, CHICO, CHICO, CHICO” bellows through the bus. “What about our mod?” says Ivor “**** him” says Dill, “I must have sent the invite to the wrong one! Anyway Chico is better looking and will help us pull birds in Reading. Lets go”.

So there it is. The bus is loaded, there are a few pick ups on the way. WEMBLEY HERE WE COME.

NB: The bus will be calling at Briton Ferry McDonalds, Cardiff Airport, Cardiff West Services before an overnight stop in Reading.

 

WEMBLEY HERE WE COME - Part 2
The sign on the window says “No alcohol permitted on football trips”.

“We are on a bowls trip” says Dill “thats what I told our landlady in Reading”. He opens his first can of the day. The ale starts to flow freely as we pass over the Ferry Bridge. A strong smell of fags comes from the back of the bus, much to Ivors indignation, and Phil lets off another Bass fart.

“Who are we picking up at Briton Ferry?”
“It says Stereo plus two on my list”

On jumps Stereo and jackb@stard, straight from a 12 hour shift in the steelworks. Behind them is a middle aged man with curly hair and a guitar. “Who the **** is that” says SA9, lifting his head from Playboy for the first time. Before anyone can reply, the curly haired lad jumps on the bus, punches the air and shouts “Oggy, Oggy, Oggy..”
“**** off Max, this is not an egg chasers trip!” says Phil. “Sorry lads, I thought we were off to Twickers” said Max. He tried to sit next to Phil, but soon moved to the back of the bus after another Bass fart. A few strums on the guitar and Max was away..

“We are off to Wembley, to lift the Capital Cup,
Chico’s in the front seat, my pint is filling up,
Things can’t get any better, I’ve even got some porn,
All I want to make my day, is a photo of Michel Vorm
and we were singing, Hymns and Arias, Land of my fathers, Ar hyd y nos”

We travelled quickly on to Cardiff, everyone pleasantly getting drunk, a few fags alight. The subbutteo competition was going well, although Ivor was annoying Terror by insisting the curtains were closed and nightlight put on, to simulate an evening match.

“Next stop, Cardiff Airport” announces Dill, “But we’ve got to wait two hours as there are several flights we’ve got to wait for. “**** that” said Phil, “I’m going to the bar”. The bus emptied quicker than Legoland at 83 minutes as a mad dash was made to get some ale. Immediately there were problems. They only sold Brains. Phil complained to the barman and a brief scuffle broke out with a few chairs thrown. Despite Phils protests only Daaaaaark was available followed by a Claaaaaaarks pie.

Meanwhile Dill was waiting in the terminal. One by one the planes came in and our overseas friends arrived. Musty and Lauds Gendros Jack from Oz, Yankee Jack from the USA and Thai Canary from ****it. There are two smart birds with Thai so Dill asks them if they want a ride. They giggled before confirming in broken English they love rides.

The bus was getting fuller and more boisterous as we set off for Cardiff Gate services for our last pick up. Dai has finished his crossword and has joined in the subbutteo. Vetch is encouraging the Thai girls to take up cards, although noticeably they are now playing strip poker. Swimaway is sitting with only his pants left on and everyone is praying that he wins the next hand.

We soon roll up at Cardiff Gate and on jump three lads in red Swans tops and new free red Cardiff City scarves - Sussex Blue Bird, Aberdude and a small gent with a pencil moustache. “Ulloa” says Dill, “Fark off” says Sussex. FFS winces as the gent passes him, but cannot say anything as his mouth restraint is still on.

Sussex and Aber complain because there has been a cock up with their tops. “We ordered red tops for the best team in Wales and they sent us your ****” they said. “Never mind, it’s worth the pain just to see you Jacks lose at Wembley”

There are roars of good natured derision and banter as the Bluebirds make their way to some empty seats. “Where are you going on holiday this year? Orlandi?” pipes up Knackered.

The third man remained silent but after 10 minutes of derision he could contain himself no longer “You ****ing pikey peg sellers are going to lose and I’m gonna piss in your beer on the way home” There was a stunned silence before Sussex shouted “Shut the **** up John, we only brought you because you keep on telling us about the best clubs in Reading”.

With that all hell let loose “It’s John Hughes” said Dai. There was a huge scream from the front of the bus as FFS powered through his restraints and grabbed Hughes by the balls. Hughes managed to break free and Phil, swim and SA9, still reading his mag, sat on FFS to control him. For his own safety Johnny is locked in the toilets.

Semi-normality resumed as we head up the M4. Aber now sits in the front with Dill while Phil still sits on FFS. Aber rolls a spliff and gives Dill a drag. “Wow” said Dill “I haven’t had one of these in years. Roll me a 6 incher”. Aber spends the next 10 minutes creating a massive spliff and Dill looks on in earnest, while still trying to get his first answer in the Western Mail crossword. “And when you’ve finished that I wouldn’t mind a tattoo like the one you’ve got”

Vetch and Billybjack are entertaining the Thai girls. The glossy mags are not so glossy. Ivor is 6-0 up in subbuteo, everyone is drinking Mustys Fosters as he has been converted to Daaaaaaaaark. Johnny is still in the bogs.

“We’re one hour, seven minutes and 27 seconds from Reading” announces Jager.

All seems well.

 

WEMBLEY HERE WE COME - Part 3
It was the second blow that did the most damage.

Dill, off his face after Abers spliff, was struck by the landlady of the B&B for bringing a busload of rabble to her beloved B&B on the pretence of a bowls trip.

Nursing a bloodied nose, he lay in the corner of the foyer as Ivor tried to smooth things over. “We’re only here for a bit of fun, we’ll be no problem” said Ivor in liturgical tone. The landlady gave in and handed over 20 sets of keys.

Chaos reigned as bags were thrown into rooms. Goodness knows who was sharing with who,. Who cared? Everyone just wanted to get to town.
It was a motley but colourful crew that strolled down Friar Street. John Hughes, shielded by Aber and Sussex in their red tops led the way. Chico followed, drawing wolfwhistles from the local ladies. Dai still had his full Swans kit on, while Phil had Everton Blue and Thai Canary had a spanking new yellow top on.

It was like a scene from “One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest”.

A breakaway group led by SA9 and comprising Ash, Aswan, Mr Gullible, bonyjack and Mabon had already gone into “The Little Red Beaver” a local strip Club.

The cards school, comprising Swimaway, trundles left foot, VETCHETERIAN and swantastic had progressed from three card brag and strip poker to fancy their chances at the local casino. Swim, still only in his underpants, was initially refused entry, but Vetch threw him a vest and he was allowed in.
The rest trailed John Hughes. “Where are these Clubs then Johnny?” said Aber.”Just here” said John. They turned sharply into a darkened lane and at the far end was a little doorway. “The Blue Oyster Club” was lit up above the doorway. “I’ll be alright in here with my blue Everton top on” said Phil. Johnny laughed.

In he went, climbed the stairs and walked over to the bar “Johnny” shouted the barman “lovely to see you again, and fantastic to see you’ve got so many friends. Is it the usual?” he said, lifting a Babycham from the top shelf.

“Aye” said Johnny “They’re not my friends, though. They’re a bunch of peg sellers off to Wembley. I hope they ****ing lose”.
“Pleased to meet you guys. I’m Ben. Ben Dover. Johnny told me all about you last year. He loves you really. Make yourselves at home – the first round is on the house!”There was a loud cheer as Ben lifted 35 bottles of Babycham off the top shelf.

“Whats this piss” said Phil “I’m a real ale man”. He looked around the Club and noticed there were quite a few American police men there. He thought he had better behave so sat down and necked the Babycham. Eight ‘Chams later the boys were starting to get boisterous and knocked out a few songs.

The Thai girls were going down a treat. I’ll rephrase that. The Thai Girls were proving popular with the locals and Johnny was starting to get jealous. He disappeared for a while and suddenly came in dressed in his American police uniform.

“Jeezaz” said Ivor “I’ve had enough of this “I’m off for a slash. He went into the bogs, opened his fly and pointed Percy at the porcelain. Suddenly the Thai Girls strolled into the toilet and did exactly the same. Ivor left. He sat in the bar, traumatised. A non smoker, he lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

Chico was proving quite a sensation. The tall handsome young Spaniard had about twenty young men around him. “These lot must know they’re football” said Dai.

Being the ultimate professional Chico was only drinking coffee, and as he had a big game coming up had to leave early, with Dai accompanying him. “I’m the Swans number one fan” Dai told the crowd “and I’m looking after our top player”. With that Chico’s admirers turned their attention to the Swans boys.

Dill had arrived, nursing his broken nose and holding his mobile phone about two feet from his ear. “It’s ChicoTime”, said Dill “He’s giving me a bollocking for leaving him in Swansea. Said he’s catching the train up tomorrow and he’s going to ban me for two weeks. Bastard.” Dill was not happy. He shared a few pints with Phil and Aber and all were now totally pissed.

Johnny fancied his chances with the Thai Girls and disappeared into the toilets with one of them. He came back five minutes later looking shellshocked.
The dance floor filled with American policeman, men dressed as Red Indians and the 606 crew with Musty, Lauds Gendros Jack, Yankee Jack , Thai Canary, Jager, Ivor, Dragon, FFS, SA9, Knackered, Norway Jack, neveroffsidereff, aberdude, Sussex Bluebird, stereo, jackb@astard, billybjack, Norwayjack and campionjack all strutting their stuff on the dancefloor.

“Y.M.C.A” belted through the speakers before the music slowed and to great cheers Max Boyce came on stage with local celebrity glamexile playing bass guitar in the background. “Oggy, Oggy, Oggy” shouted Max, this time he had a response “Oi, Oi, Oi” shouted the dancefloor. “I want to sing a special song”, said Max,” because tonight has been a special night, so here we go”

“We came to Reading early, and clambered off the bus
Dill has had a bollocking, coz the landlady hated us
Johnny took us to a Club, damn he had a nasty shock
Because the gorgeous girl he tried to shag, had an eight inch cock,
And we were singing, hymns and arias, land of my fathers, ar hyd a nos........

All of a sudden a fight started after one of the Red Indians groped Phils arse and mayhem broke out. Chairs, bottles and anything else flew through the air as punches were exchanged. A mass brawl ended with everyone thrown out, including Ivor and Terror who had been playing subbutteo in the back room.

The 606 crowd sauntered back up Friar Street where they met Vetch and the glossy magazine boys who had been kicked out of “The Little Red Beaver” after bony and aswan were caught playing hoopla with a naked and excited Mr Gullible. They were soon joined by Swimaway, trundles left foot, VETCHETERIAN and swantastic who were hauled out of Aspers after Swimaway finally lost his pants in an ill advised bet.

Phil and Knackered have been arrested after brawling with each other in the town centre and are spending the night in the local nick. Apart from that a drunk, but very happy bunch of 606’ers strolled round Reading, looking for a curry house to end the night on a high.

 

WEMBLEY HERE WE COME - Part 4 (Chico gets p****d)
Phil could hear footsteps come down the corridor. The keys turned and the door opened. “You can go now”.

It hard been a long cold night in the cell and he had a few brief flashbacks to the night before. Knackered was getting released at the same time and they walked back to the B&B – on opposite sides of the road.

At the B&B there were a few early risers having breakfast and Phil noticed FFS sitting alone tucking into a sandwich. “How are you on your own?” queried Phil. “All you lot got pissed last night, so I had the freedom of Reading” replied FFS. Phil winced.

He noticed everyone had bacon and eggs and queried the contents of FFS’s sandwich. “It’s tongue” said FFS.
“Horse or cow” said Phil. “Neither” said FFS “It’s John Hughes’s.
Phil fainted.

He woke up and found the B&B buzzing with cops. Hughes had come home in the dark pissed and crashed out in a room where FFS was sleeping. The police found Hughes trussed up and wrapped in clingfilm, minus his tongue.

FFS was now missing.

The police wanted to clear the B&B so we were all pushed on the bus and told to get out of Reading asap.

Dill was slumped at the front of the bus with a strange hat on. Aber and Sussex had carried him on as he was still pissed. Trundlesleftfoot was just to deal the first hand of the day when there was a loud scream. “BAAAAAAASTAAAAARRRRRD”.

Dill had taken his hat off and in the window reflection he could see “CCFC” tattooed on his forehead. “You said you wanted a tattoo like mine” said Aber. “Same style I meant” said Dill, “not same ****ing letters. I’m going to the biggest game of my life and I’ve got CCFC on my ****ing forehead”
“Don’t worry” said Aber “It’s only a three day one, you can wash it off on Tuesday”. Dill decked him, sat back in his chair, and put his thumb in his mouth.

It was a fairly quiet journey as we headed up the M4. Dai, in his full Swans kit in front with Chico and everyone else half sleeping, nursing hangovers.
It was too quiet for a Cup Final day.

With Dill inconsolable, Ivor took charge of the bus.” Right lads we have got six hours before kick off so we are going into West Drayton for a good drink and a sing song before we push on to Wembley”

No one disagreed so into the first pub we rolled. The quiet mood soon changed once the lager started flowing. Billyjack found a juke box and it wasn’t too long before the Thai girls were dancing on the tables.

It was a full party. Max jumped on to a mini stage and gave us another song:

We arrived in West Drayton, looking for some ale,
Dill has got a tattoo and Vetch is looking pale
A Thai girl teased young Billyjack, she pushed him on a bunk,
But Billy knew what she wanted aye, his photo of Gary Monk,
And we were singing, hymns and arias, land of my fathers, ar hyd a nos........

Ivor pushed his way to the bar and ordered another pint. As the barman gave him change he glanced over and saw Chico. He was pissed.
Dai had gone to the bookies to put a few bets on and in the meantine the tall, dark, handsome Spaniard had washed down two bottles of red.
Ivor was mortified “What are we going to tell Sir Michael? He can’t play in this state, there are only two hours to kick off”

Ivor told the barman to stop serving and clear the pub. Everyone was herded on the bus again and the race was on to get to Wembley.
Dill was cajoled into putting a rather large hat on to cover his CCFC tattoo, while everyone was ordered not to laugh at him while he dished out the tickets.

He walked down the aisle and dished out the tickets to those on the right hand side of the bus first, and then walked back up the aisle and dished them out to those on the left side.

As he approached the front he realised he was two tickets short. Neveroffside and Billyjack were ticketless. “How did you manage that you prick?” said never. I ordered 48 tickets said Dill, Block 110 behind the goal.

“You’ve gave two tickets to the Thai Girls” said Billy.
The two Thai Girls were sitting there laughing. “You boyz want tickets?” Never and Billy nodded. “We give you ride and you have tickets?”
Never and Billy looked at each other and gulped...................

The bus drove at speed to Wembley with a police escort. The tyres screeched as we pulled up outside. Dai and Ivor hauled Chico off the bus and took him in to the Swans dressing room.

Sir Michaels jaw dropped when he saw Chico. Ivor and Dai left the room sharpishly and headed back to the bus before they had a bollacking.
Everyone had now clambered off the bus and had sorted out their tickets. Even neveroffside and Billybjack had theirs.........

Up to the stadium they all strolled, buying programmes , a last bag of chips and two more pints on the concourse. A couple of lads joined us as they had come up on the train, including Swamp, STID, Bessian, exiledjack, JackAttack, ValleyGraduate and ChicoTime.

ChicoTime gave Musty a green parker coat, the same as he wore – they were the mods.

We entered the stadium, the Swans were warming up. Suddenly there was a groan from the crowd when a tannoy announcement confirmed that Chico Flores was injured. Gary Monk was to start instead.

The Swans were being put through their paces when all of a sudden there was a scream of agony. Monk had pulled up with a torn calf muscle – there were only ten minutes to kick off.

There was a large huddle by the Swans dugout and suddenly Michael Laudrup ran down the touchline and headed towards Block 110. He was looking into the crowd until he saw the 606 crowd. “Ivor” he shouted “where’s that lad in the full Swans kit?”
“He’s by here” said Ivor “It’s Dai”
“Dai” shouted Sir Michael “YOUR PLAYING!”

Dai stood up. He stuck his chest out and ran down the steps onto the hallowed turf. The crowd roared.

DAI IS GOING TO PLAY CENTRE HALF FOR THE SWANS IN THE CAPITAL ONE CUP FINAL

 

WEMBLEY HERE WE COME - Part 5 (THE FINAL)
Dais sprint onto the pitch left him gasping for air. He hadn’t run that fast in the last decade. He had time to gather his breath when the teams lined up for the national anthems, but couldn’t manage any words.

The game started at a fast pace and Dai knew he had to do something drastic. Bradford had a corner and Dai was marking the Bradford number nine. Dai grabbed him by the balls “listen sonny” he said “I’ve been playing since twenty years before you were born. Now do yourself a favour, if you come near this box again I’ll break your ****ing legs”

The ball came across and Ash headed out and play moved up to the half way line to where the Bradford centre forward had retreated. “I’ve sorted him” thought Dai.

Not a chance. The Bradford lad controlled the ball, rounded Britton, brushed off Ki, nutmegged Dai and slammed it past Tremmel.

SWANSEA CITY 0 BRADFORD CITY 1

“You useless ****er” shouted Dill, still pissed “Get him off!”
Dill needed a slash, but didn’t want to miss any action, so he used a bottle of pale ale he had recently emptied, screwed the top on and put it back in his bag.

On the pitch something had to change quickly and Dai knew it. He rushed over to Ash and took the captains armband off him.
“Right then lads, this is what we are going to do” he shouted “back to short triangles, just as Brendan told us. If that doesn’t work just hoof the ****er”.

Things settled down and at half time the score remained 1-0 to the Bantams, with the Swans fans starting to get frustrated.

The players strolled into the changing rooms where Laudrup was waiting for them. “You give the players a cup of tea Mike ‘cos I’m giving the team talk” said Dai.

“Right” said Dai “I’ve been cleaning the Northbank for over 40 years and know more about football than all you useless tossers put together. Now there’s 40,000 Jacks out there who have never seen us lift a trophy – get out there and do it for them or I’ll set FFS on you when we get home”

The half time whistle went and the Swans roared into action. Five corners in the first ten minutes was a sign of the Swans growing superiority and in the 57th minute it finally told. Britton slipped a ball through for Hernandez who’s delicate chip was headed in by Ki to secure his first Swans goal.

SWANSEA CITY 1 BRADFORD CITY 1

The onus was now with the Swans. Attack after attack was made and the Bradford defence was under siege, but still no goals came. 90 minutes came and the board went up – 3 minutes to go. The crowd had settled for extra time. But not Nathan Dyer. He set off on a mazy run down the right and forced a corner in front of the Swans fans.

Ben Davies was to take it. Laudrup leapt to his feet for the first time “Dai, get up there”.

A hundred metres is a long way when your of a certain age, and Dai could barely see that far, never mind run it. He tried his best and broke into a slow shuffle to get up the other end. Two minutes of the three had gone. The cross came over and what happened next appeared to be in slow motion. Dai leapt above the Bradford defence, stayed there and hit a thumping header into the back of the net. John Charles would have been proud of that.

SWANSEA CITY 2 BRADFORD CITY 1.

There was no fancy dancing in front of the fans. Dai was old school. He headed straight back to the half way line where, thankfully the ref blew for full time.

There was a short period before the trophies were presented and there was a bit of wrangling as to who would pick up the trophy, Monk or Ash. “You can both **** off” said Dai “I’m the Swans number one fan so I’m picking up the trophy”. No one argued so thats what happened.

Dai climbed the steps and picked the trophy, hoisting it above his head to show the 40,000 jubilant Jacks.

As he walked along the balcony Huw Jenkins and Martin Morgan went to congratulate him “You two can **** off as well, if you hadn’t sold Danny Graham to Sunderland we would have won 8-1 today!” They didn’t argue.

Dai led the team on the lap of honour. The crowd were belting out Hymns and Arias and Dai could see Dill, STID, Ivor and the rest of the 606 crew. “Dai, Dai” they shouted “over here”, He climbed over the barrier and was lifted onto the shoulders of the 606 boys and carried out of the stadium with the trophy and onto the bus.

The bus left Wembley with thousands of Swans fans cheering and trying to get a glimpse of the trophy. But all they saw was SA9 reading his glossy mags and the cards school just about to deal another hand.

Someone lobbed a large crate of champagne on to the bus and that sparked wild celebrations. The Thai Girls re-appeared, apparently after spending the afternoon with a Tory Cabinet Minister and everyone was back on the bus. Max started singing a few ballads and we headed west back down the M4.

With Dill still pissed, Ivor was in charge of the bus. His conscious got the better of him and he decided to call into Reading to pick up John Hughes. The bus stopped outside the hospital, which was just a short stroll from The Blue Oyster Club, so everyone took the chance to have a quick ‘Cham and a dance.

“Next stop, Cardiff Airport” shouted Ivor “We got there about 9pm and said our farewells to Thai Canary, the Thai Girls and Musty. Lauds Gendros Jack decided he wasn’t ready to go back to Western Australia, he fancied a week at home, so he joined the rest of the Jacks for a pint of Daaaaaark and a Claaaaaaarks pie with the rest of the crew.

Back on the bus, with the next stop Cardiff Gate services. The Cardiff boys had been good fun. “No hard feelings about the tattoo on my forehead” said Dill as he gave Aber a bottle of pale ale from his bag.

“Wheres Hughes?” said Sussex. Ivor coughed loudly before owning up. Laud Gendros Jack didn’t want to go back home, there was a spare ticket so I put him on the plane” said Ivor. “Where to?” said Sussex

“Western Australia”

There was a huge roar of approval from the Jacks. The Cardiff boys laughed as they got off the bus and Aber took a large swig from the bottle Dill had given him.

Max Boyce saw what had gone on and burst in to rhyme

“Dill sympathised with the Cardiff boys, whose team are doomed to fail,
So he gave them that old bottle aye, which once held bitter ale
And we were singing.........”

It was full speed ahead. Max was dropped off at Briton Ferry with the Port Talbot boys and the bus finally pulled up at The Liberty. Terror finally defeated Ivor in Subbutteo after a dramatic penalty shoot out.

Everyone said their farewells and promised to meet up for the Final next year. Knackered and Phil buried the hatchet and went for a beer in Franky & Bennies. Dai wandered off into the darkness with the Capital One Cup under his arm.

Dill decided he could do with another pint so he headed towards Wind Street. As he approached one of the side alleys he noticed a partially clothed woman.

“She beckoned Dill from a doorway dark,
Damn it was getting far too late
But Dill knew what she wanted aye
His photo of Daiswan Huwsmate
And she started singing, hymns and arias, land of my fathers, ar hyd a nos”

.................................................. .............

“Dai, Dai, wake up”
No answer.
“David, WAKE UP!”
Dai stirred. “What day is it?” he said “It’s Sunday. You are going to Wembley to see the Swans. You’ve been sleeping the best part of two days. You must have been dreaming. You’ve been shouting, cheering singing and even shouted “GOAL” at one point. Anyway, hurry up, the bus is waiting for you outside”

“Are my clothes ironed?” said Dai
“No”
“You know what” said Dai “I think I’ll just wear my full Swans kit”

THE END.

 

Message From Western Australia
Blue Oyster Club
Fremantle
Western Australia
28th February 2013

Right you Pommy Jack Bastards,

I’ve been in this dump for the last four days and have been told that I cannot come home until Laud Gendros Jack returns.That ain’t funny you pikey peg sellers.

There’s more sheep than Sheilas here – the only problem is that there is only one per 50,000 acres. Sone of the locals seem to have taken to me, especially the Police who come to this Club, but every one else seems a bit brash, especially when I tell them that Brains Daaaaaaaaaark is better that their XXXX ****.

Hoping to see some local football this weekend so it will have to be Fremantle United v Perth Glory. Not the same as watching my beloved Caaardiff Dragons.

Going to get my tongue sorted next Monday. I am hoping to have one like the guy in this video– http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGgZszAJids It won't take me long to catch a bus from Fremantle to New Zealand will it?

Hope to be back to annoy you soon

Johnny

 

fantastic lumberjack ....very funny and very entertaining, you certainly have a talent of story telling there....Have not laughed so much since cardiff fans said they were the top team in wales....well done..

 

still pmsl when i read this, PGF you deserve a medal

 

Superb!

 

hmmmmmmmmmm PGF White wrote it Dai

 

yes and it was brilliant...

 

hope your wife is ironing your clothes before the newcastle match lol

 

Can't wait for the first trip to Europe!!
PGF stands for Pretty Good Fiction??

 

fiction? wasnt that Dai i saw scoring the 5th goal?

 

Outstanding PGF

 

Should have made it into a book bloody good read P G F

 

It's the Grand Slam of Swansea City - Maybe we can get back to choosing the actors for the parts - I still want Robbie Savage as one of the girlie boys

 

good choice there lumber, anthony hopkins for ffs

 

paul hogan for lauds, richard burton for ?

 

Dai swan - he posts with that deep voice! FACT