Legs and Drunks and Sausage Rolls
Van Nistelrooy versus Wilkie and Scotland beat them 1-0 at Hampden in the first game! The after game party in The Tap Shop saw pairs of legs at various heights, angles and hair length being wheeched about to the sound of the live band. Spillage of drinks meant the floor was wet, wet, wet. Drunks were all around them and cashpoints’ stocks were low. Faced with the choice of a fish supper or another pint, some simply had a sausage roll for their tea. The title for this adventure was born (although a slightly more “sounds like” might be more appropriate for the goings on to be reported later).
Diesel Dave should have been at the party but he missed the bus back home from the game, despite it waiting for 50 minutes after the end of the game. In Germany he lost everything except himself, so it is to his credit that he managed this feat in Glasgow of all places!
The Dutch escapade started sedately enough. Bill Mac from local radio station River FM appeared at TSTA HQ looking for 4 volunteers to answer a few questions.
Bill looked all 4 of the chosen few straight in the eyes and firstly complimented them on their sober(ish) state. He then issued a warning that they would be “live” on air, so he asked for no swear words please. The Chieftain and Credit Card began with some typical responses putting them right up there with the Charlie Nicholas and Allan McInally’s of this World. Nobody had a clue what they were on about either.
Next up it was Twinkletoes. “What did you think of Saturday’s result against the Dutch?” he was asked. As Twinkletoes tried to appear professional by slowly putting his finger from his chin to his ear he somehow managed to pull out the following words from his arse and let them out through his gub. “Oh we put the shiters right up them did we no?” At this point several glasses attached to thirsty bottom lips parted company and beer was sprayed in all directions of the bar. After apologising on air (which was the only thing he wasn’t on in Amsterdam), he walked head drooped and sat in the corner. He sat there wondering what punishment his Mum would give him when he got home and also how he could possibly resurrect his virgin radio career now that it lay in tatters.
Not everyone went with the “official party” Earlier in the day Haymarket and Waverley loaded up their car with 4 TSTA footsoldiers who would guarantee them no end of hassle:
· Les Bien (Trainee Complete Bevvy Merchant Final Year). Compliments with precision his alcohol intake with the amount a boat rocks so that he actually appears sober. I should add he only achieves this whilst the boat is in the harbour but fair play to him he has a damned good try at sea. When he’s steamin’ he simply can’t talk.
· Shergar (So called because you can never find him. However some say his gnashers’ strike a remarkable resemblance to the champion horse’s). He has always refused a DNA test (and his cycling proficiency test for that matter) and to be fair his face is a bloody close match to the fine racehorse’s arse anyway so there is no need. He talks at 10 decibels louder than any wife dragging a drunk out of a pub. Ten times worse when pished.
· Reidy (Basically he cannot string two words together when he is sober. Two letters together is a struggle when blitzed).
What a fun motor that must have been for the happy couple to travel in eh? They all went to Amsterdam via the overnight Newcastle Ferry. Haymarket and Waverley were returning to the city where they got engaged but the romance was gone thanks to the loud farting noises coming from their travelling companions on the journey to the port.
Vice Captain and his new burd (Dutch) flew. I think this must have been because Dutch could only get her guide dug on a plane as opposed to a boat! A few other lightweights flew but so did big Fried Egg who is no lightweight in the other sense. He is a complete and utter fat bastard! Sorry Fried Egg I missed out “ugly” as well. Enough of dishing out compliments.
Everyone else braved the bus journey from hell, which included a Dover to Calais crossing. In addition to the usual TSTA mob, there were 3 guests from Kirkcaldy Tartan Army. Jim Fae Kirkcaldy and The Kursk were already well known to most of the TSTA through meeting on previous trips. Boab an unknown soldier, until now, also joined the motley crew. For safety reasons The Captain felt it was only fair and strictly necessary to inspect plus sample their carry out to make sure that what was in their bottles matched their labels. He declared “Yes 100% Turpentine substitute but bloody hell the real thing must taste rotten!”
There were a few notable others. Pint Pourer, one of the TSTA HQ’s very own barmaids made her away debut. John and Lennie, two of the Singing Defective’s mates came along too. They are his mates because they are the only 2 ever (living or dead) to have stayed to the end whilst he sang on the Karaoke. The Singing Defective has still to work out that both of them wear ear-plugs when he sings. “When Smokey sings I hear violins” goes the song but when The Singing Defective sings we hear violent vomitings.
The journey down the road was uneventful except for the antics of Action Man who, for the first time ever, did not barf. The credit for this goes to his chick Mongy Mong who threatened to punch his lights out if he did. She threatened to do the same to Twinkletoes after the aforementioned “bomber” delivered a 2 pound curly one in the bus loo.
As usual The Chieftain made his way to the bar as a free man, to claim it for Scotland and to suggest that thousands of years of tyranny at the hands of the barman and his fellow countrymen would come to an end if he could get a freshly poured pint down in front of him pronto! Pity the barman was French.
The Smuggler (our driver) eventually made the bar after finally convincing the Customs Officer holding him from getting on the boat that his name badge was for a laugh. Rumour has it that it did cost him a bung of a litre of spirits and 400 fags. Just as he ordered his drink at the bar last orders were called but I can’t begin to type what The Smuggler called the barman.
At the bar Flim Flam Fleming, who was a last minute stowaway on the bus, tried to light his fag but the shaking of his hand was just too much for him and he finally gave in after 20 attempts.
Jim Fae Kirkcaldy spoke quietly in Mini Baird’s ear and suggested she follow him to this wee spot on the boat. “My Dad will kill ye,” she said. What Jim had in store was perfectly kosher. He told Mini Baird to be quiet and go on her tiptoes round the corner. There on his lonesome was The Kursk in a quiet part of the boat. He had his back to Jim and Mini Baird and he was looking out to sea swaying back and forth singing Rod Stewart’s “We are Sailing” at the top of his voice. Whit a fud!
On leaving the boat a semi-sparkled Credit Card spoke to The Captain (a real one with a posh hat with gold braid and everything). He praised the behaviour of the TSTA on the ferry and come to think he managed to convince The Captain too before commandeering the ship’s microphone. Credit Card then belted out over the tannoy as the ship’s compliment (who he said to The Captain must be the barmaid on deck 4 because she had a braw erse) headed towards their vehicles…..”Awright then Tap Shop Tartan Army are you lot out there. Roger”. A series of loud roars from various pockets of the ship reverberated back. Gnasher walked by and tapped Credit Card’s shoulder and whispered “Who is Roger?”
Credit Card went on to say “Make your way to deck 5 where your “aircraft” awaits you. We will be flying at 7 feet and once in the air we will be serving a light breakfast, which will consist of Tennant’s Lager and cornflakes followed by some QC. Please show your appreciation to your fellow passengers by waving to them with both hands whilst jumping up and down and loudly saying whhhhheeeeee.” Pockets of laughter were heard all around the ship and despite his best efforts not to; The Captain buckled as well.
Belgium. Why is it whenever the TSTA go on tour they always have to go via Belgium. Dull flat and boring was Armitage Shanks’ view who was as ever feeling flush. He gets his nickname for being wrecked one Sunday afternoon and falling asleep in trap 1 in TSTA HQ for 3 hours. He had no sleep on the journey down so far.
All along the roads through Belgium and all through several plastic bags was The Ferry Fairy throwing up violently.
Big Allan McOwatt enjoyed the bus journey so much that the first thing that he did when he got off was to book a flight home for after the game. He claimed he had blisters on his bum the size of fried eggs. The Janny suggested that he had once seen the blisters on Fried Egg’s bum and if it they were as bad as he says then he would be right to fly home.
The AC Hotel in Amsterdam was a fine establishment and very welcoming. Unbeknown to most, it had a wee boating lake at the back.
It was a 10-minute metro ride from Centraal Station and 5 stops from The Amsterdam ArenA, making it a perfect location. Most unpacked in a few seconds and once they scoffed the remnants of their carry outs headed for the metro station in an effort to find the others. Sure enough at Centraal Station was Vice Captain and Dutch closely followed by Haymarket and Waverley who were keen to speak to sane (well as near as can be) people following their car-load of by now fluent Swahili speakers.
Big Stuff bought his laddie a present of a Holland top while he was still semi conscious. The troops trooped by Teasers Bar, that’s the one with the semi naked, huge boobied girlies so popular with the Daily Record photographers. Having said that The Captain appeared quite pleased to see them too. He salivated so much there was a mini Loch Lomond at his feet and his kilt seemed to grow a “nose” in the nether regions.
Several pints were consumed in various bars most of which were around Amsterdam’s Red Light District. The Boy Wonder struggled with the concept somewhat. After passing by his first “window” he saw a stunner in stockings brushing her hair. He turned to Gnasher and said “Did you see the size of that hairdresser’s knockers?”
After a few good schwallies most notably in Hill Street Blues and Excalibur the troops headed back to the hotel. Some purchased some of Amsterdam’s special tobacco products for their nightcap.
Credit Card, Mary Doll, Vice Captain, Dutch, Mini Baird and The Ferry Fairy managed to get hold of tickets for Travis at The Pepsi Stage so they headed off for the gig. They picked up their free T-Shirts from The Sun at The Amsterdam ArenA, which was close by. About a third of the audience were from the Tartan Army so Fran Healy and co. must have felt very much at home seeing all the saltires being waved. EASTA’s The Claw was there with his inflatable Spiderman, which has now seen service at every away game in the Euro 2004 campaign. A certain part of The Claw’s anatomy only managed to see service in this city; after all he is a big ugly git! They spoke to Alan Carson and his photographer from The Sun who was at the concert. Alan interviewed them and got a few photos and said he would run with a story the next day. Sadly, talking to 6 blootered TSTA members was not as interesting as Fran Healy falling on his arse from atop of one of the speakers so his editor pulled rank, which is dangerous rhyming slang in this city!
After the concert and a good few drinks they left. As they passed the exit they met up with old friend Rod Fraser who is the sole member of The Azerbaijan Tartan Army. The last time they saw Rod was in Mainz for the Future Team game. Needless to say he was monged too.
Back in The Red Light District Gazza was starving, so The Boy Wonder gave him some special chocolate cake. Half an hour later Gazza was seeing pink elephants and telling them “Yerafannyyadick”. Still, at least his hunger pangs went but the elephants remained for a few hours.
At the metro station on the way home sadly Credit Card and The Vice Captain were certified as fully monged. The station was packed to the gunnels with late night revellers and the gruesome twosome decided to perform their own open air concert on the platform much to amusement/pleasure/displeasure of the assembled gobsmacked passengers. It is fair to say at least 3 other people joined in, 12 turned the other way and 2 threw up, a bit like a Barrowland gig really.
On the metro itself, The Vice Captain pulled with some old biddy and her dog called Sumo, or perhaps it was the other way round. Anyway Vice Captain did get a snog from the dog. Now this bit is complicated. He was given some Dutch lessons. Dutch wants to point out that this was from Sumo’s owner and not her. She added, “When it comes to Vicey you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” (Apparently this is true. He is still stuck on page 4 of The Kama Sutra, in fact page 4 is stuck to page 5. Ach Vicey has never been any good at martial arts anyway.)
Sumo’s owner told Vice Captain “You pick up easy”. Tell us something new. So she did. She told him “You doesn’t use your throat enough” and that got the other 5 TSTA members chuckling away.
Back at the AC Hotel the rest of the TSTA were in severe party mode. The Quizmaster sat in the corner singing and supping his pint with a Saddam Hussein mask on. His laddie on asking if he had any more masks with him said “Aye in the Baghdad”. Haymarket sat with a Michael Jackson mask on proclaiming “I’m bad, I’m bad”. The hotel bar staff just shrugged their shoulders.
Morning had broken, well if the truth be told morning was well and truly fcuked! There were some serious casualties at the breakfast tables but Big Stuff made it. Les Bien had to tell the story though of earlier in the morning when the pair of them got up.
Big Stuff only had enough for 2 haufs of voddie so naturally he turned to his buddy Les and said “Here Les, do you like coke or diet coke?” Les replied “I’m not fussy”, so Big Stuff said fine here’s your coke and I’ll have a double voddie and diet!” He’s a generous soul. Anyway, Les got his own back and said to Big Stuff “Here have a wee puff of my funny fag”. A slightly distrusting but very wobbly already Big Stuff took a draw and said “Nothin’s happen ya baldy git”. He took another and another and then through a cloud of blue aromatic smoke, Big Stuff claimed he saw a big boat gently sail by his window. He immediately stubbed it out and said “That’s serious shit I’m no dae’in any more of that stuff”. Sadly Big Stuff forgot about the hotel’s lake. The boat was indeed real!
The 3 Kirkcaldy lads said they had some special chocolate cake last night at about 9 o’clock. Only 15 minutes later all three of them ended up fast asleep curled up on a heap in the middle of the room having claimed to have seen Raith Rovers lift The Champions League Trophy after a penalty shoot out with Real Madrid.
Some of the troops headed for the metro station to take them to Dam Square, most though let The Chieftain go first. They marched a good 50 yards behind as they were embarrassed by his powder blue Puma trainers he had on where his boots should be. Pity some of them left with a space in their wallets where ticket should be.
The rest of the TSTA followed The Janny as they headed towards the metro station. Once in Dam Square it felt a bit cold so a few beers in a few bars was the order of the day. Stones Bar seemed as good a meeting point as any. Colin McKee the TSTA’s Cathay Pacific pilot member joined them for a wee drink but sadly he couldn’t see the game because he was flying out later that night. It was clear the TSTA had feelings for Colin as they took it in turn to pat him gently on the shoulder and then guffaw “Ha ha ha getitrightupyebigyin!”
Outside a large Dutch contingent posed for photos with the TSTA. They were all decked out in orange. Waverley got well and truly tangoed as one dressed as an orange lion picked her up and gave her a big kiss.
Gazza had got himself some plastic specs which made his eyes pop out of his head. Action Man pointed out that he did that with the chocolate cake last night as well.
The Boy Wonder was starving so he bought himself a burger as he walked back towards Dam Square. A few streets later he said it needed ketchup, so he merrily marched into a full restaurant, went to a full-table squirted some Heinz on his bun and left. The fool.
Back at The Red Light District Twinkletoes was speaking to a few locals about the “delights” across the road. Sadly he got too involved in a “blondes versus brunettes” debate and the merits of pricing policies. When he wasn’t looking one of the chaps he was talking to, a young black gent who said he was Surinamese made off with his mobile phone.
Just around the corner Boab had just told Jim Fae Kirkcaldy the difference between a blue light window and a red light one. “Look the blue one signifies meat and two veg if you know what ah mean!” Jim nodded but inside he did not have a clue what Boab was going on about. The Kursk just shook his head and couldn’t believe the pair of them paid attention to the light when he was more interesting in looking in the window itself.
Anyway all three of them found this window where inside was a Kylie Minogue look-a-like. The trouble was there was no light, so was it blue or red? All 3 placed their mitts on the glass and peered in. They did so in a kind of “Michael Barrymore’s Strike It Lucky” sort of way, so each of them had their hands placed on the window, top, middle or bottom. After a full five minutes study, Boab cried out “Oh wow look at the Adam’s apple. It’s a bloke”. The other two looked at him and nodded in agreement. Then, quick as a flash, Kylie’s door burst open and she screamed “Are yoush calling me a fcukin’ man yoush bashturdsh”. The three of them screamed and ran like the clappers to some hot spot!
Back at Dam Square Credit Card got a call from River FM who asked him what the atmosphere was like. “The place is bouncing and there are thousands of Scots everywhere” was what he told the listening masses of 4 grannies in Dedridge. Just then there was a bit of a commotion and up the street appeared none other than Rod Stewart and Ally McCoist. Ally came over and shook hands with Mary Doll but Rod and his minders did a runner.
Fried Egg and The Fugitive had finally managed to make their way to the square too with much less fuss, along with Fugie’s brother and Kaz. Litchfield and his buddies who flew in on the day of the game met up with everyone too and brought a sizeable carry out for those so young. Respect.
The party was in full swing but it was time to go to the game. By now it was really cold which was best measured by the frost on the sides of the cans of Heineken everyone was drinking. The metro had a fair share of both fans in each carriage and there was plenty of singing going on. Once inside the Amsterdam ArenA the noise was deafening. Sitting next to Twinkletoes was none other than Stuart Cosgrove from “Off The Ball”. It looked like he had skelped back a few Heinekens in Dam Square too.
What a great start Scotland made to the game. They looked magic in the warm up. Sadly things went horribly wrong as the Dutch ran up the park with 6 lucky offside breakaways and just shaded the match.
Well that was that then. Yet another brilliant adventure ruined by another 90 minutes of football. The TSTA left the stadium at different times. Haymarket left at half-time as he was so upset, most of the others left at goal 4,5 or 6. It was a wise move all round as for those who waited until the end it was a nightmare getting on the metro. Back at the AC Hotel it turned out that neither Lock up John, nor Flim Flam Fleming actually made the game, how lucky were they!?
At the hotel bar sorrows were being drowned but in Haymarket’s case some daft git must have tried to throw him a lifebelt. He just would not go under like everyone else and was willing to fight anyone for the honour of his country’s football team. That included the wee guy on Channel 2 of Dutch TV who was gloating and was really getting up his goat. The bar staff were to be next if they didn’t turn the telly off. The Chieftain, as always in these situations, acts as United Nations mediator. He put his arm around Haymarket spoke softly to him and gently put his hands on his shoulders before delivering a resounding loud “Dry yer eyes” in his lughole.
Also staying in their hotel was a group of Dutch fans from Utrecht who were good enough to share a bit of their buffet with the TSTA who by now were flagging badly.
Pint Pourer had had enough of this. She bought a pack of hankies and switched on the porn on Channel 12 in her room (allegedly).
Next morning all the TSTA had early morning calls made for them between 8.30 and 9:00 so that they wouldn’t miss the bus at 10:00. That included John and Lennie who even made their breakfast.
As everyone sat on the bus The Captain asked “Is anyone missing?” Everyone said “No” and the bus left despite The Captain querying things once more. Two hours down the road The Chieftain worked out that John and Lennie had been left. It was too late to go back for them now, as that would add 4 hours to the already humungous journey. Haymarket who wasn’t travelling by bus and was still at the hotel, fixed them up with £100.00 each and told them to get the ferry to Newcastle. John and Lennie thought about it and tried plan B. First of all they stocked up on essentials such as lager. Then they applied some shoe polish and went undercover, through to the Swiss border and didn’t collect £200 for passing “Go”. Then they came back again because they were going the wrong way. They leapt over the barbed wire and managed to get a flight home via Leeds in Englandshire.
On the way up the road, Twinkletoes paused for a two minute silence for the theft of his phone. He asked if he could borrow Action Man’s as he said he couldn’t let the matter rest. He said he was going to send a text message to “his” phone. He duly did and this is what it said “You ya theivin’, robbin’, ethnic, Surinamese git of doubtful parentage and a prossie sister, you are a fcukin’ @*%$………P.S. - Gonnae gee me ma phone back please?”
The bus journey home was dreadful as they hit rush hour traffic on landing at Dover. Gnasher pointed out that if you add up all the aggregate scores of the away trips that he had been to Scotland had lost 16-0. Gnasher isn’t going to the next away games against Italy or Denmark….yet!
Another Classic from a future Best Seller
by Stevie "CreditCard" Morris
© copyright stevie morris 2002