Two-Nil A Merthyr Skinfull
The Story of Wales


Following a 5-0 win at Almondvale, some of the 150 Scots who watched the Scottish Womens team, fuelled by Tap Shop beer, talked of a Battle Bus to Wales. Ian Black, from The Herald decided to get it sorted. Soon there were 22 but not enough for a bus. The numbers were supplemented with a few virtual passengers who paid £5 for the privilege of their name being carried on tour, by someone else. Those virtual passengers were the only ones who misbehaved and you Tam Ferry from EASTA, you were magoo’d by midday.
There were 3 Tap Shop Footsoldiers:

They met their fellow bus companions at 10:30 in the Iron Horse pub in Glasgow. Lucky they got it right. It was a pub and not the iron horse on the edge of the M8. Wee Arthur was there on his way to Hong Kong to watch Scotland play. In effect, he was going to see the boys but decided to go for a beer with the boys, who were going to see the girls, first.
The Claw, John and Dress Sense stuck a notice on the back of the bus window. The Claw was particularly proud and expectant of one of his pieces of artwork. “For phone sextext dial”. The Claw’s number was added. The Claw awaited the offers. Sadly the big man was inundated with requests from Graham Norton types thanks to Dress Sense sneaking in the word “gay” when The Claw wasn’t looking.
After playfully skelping Dress Sense on the nose, The Claw got into other mobile textual-intercourse. He thought was one text was from a blonde who craved for him in her convertible as she passé dtheir bus by in the fast lane. Instead, it was from the front of the bus. The Vice Captain secretly waved, (up and down with a closed fist), whilst sitting comfortably.
They stopped at Lockerbie to pick up The Battlebus Commander and his wife. His daughter Dianne Furradrink was also picked up but more of that later, right Sacks young man.
The Battlebus Commander sensed that 22 folk on the bus would not make enough noise so he brought - The Tartan Megaphone with him. It’s a strange device a bit like a jet engine wearing a kilt; in fact the same description could apply to the Battlebus Commander himself.
On the bus door opening for him they were treated to a Concorde-taking off rendition of:
We’re on the march with Vera’s Army,
We’re going to the Tittyville,
And we’ll stuff it up the Welsh,
Coz oor burdz are somethin’ else
Oh it’s great to see the Scots doing so well.
For those who don’t know:

Dianne Furradrink had produced a brilliant song sheet and copies were soon passed around which included this one and many more, which I will cover later. (Tommy Scott will also cover them - £10.99 at crap video stores). Oh the much maligned Tommy Scott.
Sammy for some reason put on a Tommy Scott video. This guy needs shot. In fact both of them do. Tommy Scott is a traditional Scottish singer who moves his shoulders up and down when he sings. Sammy does the same thing but has beer bottles attached to his hands.
They stopped in Preston, Englandshire, for a beer and some nosebag. The Vice Captain spotted a cool 3D Beck’s Bier ad. The Claw (to the tune of Mission Impossible) climbed up the staircase, hid his 6’ 7” frame discreetly behind curtains on the way and returned with the “trophy” for display on the bus.
Fiona the Pheasant is the Hebrides Bar’s mascot and was the only passenger on board that wasn’t wrecked at this point. Dark Rum Moira was doing her best to offer her a drink though, several times.
Before their next stop Dianne Furradrink made some clever Claymores from balloons for everyone. There ensued a battle of Culloden proportions across the bus but especially in seats 46 and 47. Jim Fae Kirkaldy put his mate to the sword and thought he killed him. His mate has no name except he was permanently wrecked with rushing drink and at times looked so bad he was sub human. He is to be known from this day forth as The Kursk.
They stopped again somewhere near Birmingham for some more beers. Whilst they were all in the pub, Ronnie the driver was scraping The Kursk up from the pavement.
They finally got to the hotel at 8.45 and within 15 minutes everyone was in the attaching “Brewsters” with a glass in their hand. Sammy had two. The Kursk had 3 but within 5 minutes they were empty.
They later met Kevin McCabe who couldn’t believe 22 of the Tartan Army were mad enough to make the trip.
Kevin’s sister, Shelley, plays at Right-Back and he was there with the rest of his family to cheer the girls on too. Kevin got a late pass from his missus and went out for a pint with Tommy the SFA’s official photographer. What a job Tommy has! Taking close up photos of hot sweaty females, jings The Captain got six of the belt at school for that.
They arrived at The Merthyr Tydfil AFC Social Club called “Strikers” in a fleet of taxis, OK then 2 minibuses. Bucks Fizz the eighties pop group had just finished their turn and most folk had headed home. There were a good 40 or so left in the hall, most of which had bus passes and no teeth. The dance floor was bare but the young Tartan Army lads soon sorted that out grabbing as many grannies as they could for a birl.
Later, they ALL got more adventurous taking to the stage for a rendition of “Bye Bye Baby” and “Rockin’ All over the World” to rapturous applause. And the crowd liked it, they liked it, they la, la, liked it. They asked if they were better than Bucks Fizz. They got no reply so Bridie Boy shouted “Ach your makin’ your mind up”.
Someone called Beatrix took a shine to some of the lads, in fact she took a shine to anyone. She was clearly looking for someone to Potter. The Claw’s chat up line was “Fancy a coffee” and she said “Yes”, so you get the script.
Once everyone was well magoo’d the bar stayed open for another hour or so before they ordered taxis back. Whilst outside they all sang “Flower o’ Scotland” and following this, the entire bar staff and the committee popped their heads out (The Claw was trying this too with Beatrix but it wasn’t working) to sing, “Land of our Fathers”.
At breakfast Kevin mentioned his Mrs had sent a text message late last night to him from their room, “Where the hell ur ye?” She could have saved herself 10p as Kevin left his phone in his room!
The Vice Captain and Credit Card were pwoud, vewy pwoud, to say they made the club bar first thing in the morning. Well a joiner did. In addition to beer of course, they ordered one of the splendidly advertised on the club notice board, “Welsh Hot Curries – Too hot for some by George” efforts. They were great, so good in fact The Vice Captain, the greedy git ordered himself another. The club secretary told them “The ref is from Poland and a babe, she has long dark hair, is tanned, has sparkling eyes and she was talking to me on the pitch, in a sultry voice as her stilettos sank provocatively into the moist lush turf”. The Vice Captain limped to the bogs for a few minutes and returned having presumably eaten half of the banana that was in his pocket on the way there?
While the others had beers and cheers, The Kursk was in a daze standing on folks’ taes. Dress Sense and The Claw proved man descended from apes as they were seen hanging upside down on the TV gantry in the stadium trying to put the TSTA flag up. Not a pretty sight in kilts and several lunch orders at the bar of sausage and chips were cancelled.
The club shop was open and did a roaring trade. Someone who will remain nameless except that he is a hun, wanted the away strip because it was blue. Wullie pointed out the errant chap’s gaff as the club badge had a Nun on it. No refunds mate.
The team arrived and The Tartan Army gave the team a good cheer as they got off their bus. They gave them cheers and smiles too. Julie Fleeting not surprisingly got a huge cheer. Marit and Lisa are in the SFA’s Marketing Department and they gave The Tartan Army the team details and dished out a few badges to the lads. Maureen from the SWFA was there too and she introduced herself and happily chatted away to them all. What really nice people.
They followed The Tartan Army into the bar for a pre-match drink to ease the nerves.
The game started poorly. Just before half-time Wales missed a penalty. In the second half The Tartan Army spurred on the girls with “Hey baby ah wanna know will you swap yer shirts” and “Miss World it’s just like watching Miss World”. There was a version of “Donald where’s yer trousers” that had a chorus of “Taffy where’s yer boozers”.
Gemma Fay was playing superbly in goals but Scotland had little to offer up front. Oops not PC for commentary on a women’s’ game. Sorry! The truth of the matter is that Julie Fleeting was getting chopped in two every time the Welsh number 8 got within kicking distance.
One of the kids sitting behind The Tartan Army shouted, “Come on Auntie Shelley”. The Battlebus Commander got on the Tartan Megaphone and got everyone to shout “Come on Auntie Shelley” then a few blasts of “Come on Mum”.
At last Donna James did a Beckham v. Wimbledon and hit a 45 yard chip over the keeper’s head. Everyone went crazy. 22 of The Tartan Army and about the same again of the girls’ friends and family were going ballistic. Dianne’s pom-poms were all over the place, or so Sacks says.
Next, a classic song that coaxed Julie Fleeting to score a peach of a second goal. Based on “Bring back that loving feeling”.
Pass it to Julie Fleeting
Yes our Julie Fleeting,
Pass it to Julie Fleeting
And she’ll score, score, score
Whoa, whoa goals
The final whistle went and there was Bedlam. Kevin’s sister came over to see him and the big man cried tears, the happy kind, like when you find a lost can of beer in the fridge. Imagine having a sister that is good enough to play for Scotland!
The Tartan Army joined the players on the pitch for photos. Tam from EASTA phoned Wullie who was too busy trying to shove his missus Gill out of the way to hug Donna James for scoring such a good goal. He passed his phone to Julie Fleeting so that she could describe the game to Tam! The Battlebus Commander was flattened by Stacey Cook’s attack from behind. She jumped on him and his Tartan Megaphone to shut him up. Well done Stacey, nobody else has managed that! Vera Pauw was overcome with emotion. A certain footsoldier nabbed a shinguard as a souvenir. You know who you are sir and one day someone will pinch it from under your pillow!
Credit Card went for a team shot with himself but the rest of the mob got in on the act. As the girls trooped off, Vera promised they would join The Tartan Army for one drink in the club after their showers but they had to get to the airport sharp. Vice Captain tried to bribe Tommy (aka Troy the Smoothie) for some changing room photos but he declined saying he didn’t have clean underwear and asked why did we want a photo of him changing. Diddy!
At the bar and the lads lay in anticipation and perspiration. The Kursk actually did lay; flat out, fully magoo’d. Maureen from the SWFA asked if it was OK to give some dosh for drinks for the Kitty which Blackie doled out. What a nice welcome gesture.
At the entrance to the door they stood in two lines to clap the victorious team into the bar.
The team posed for photos. Dress Sense and The Claw got their photo taken with Julie, so they were over the moon. Woman of the match Gemma had her photo taken and as promised it is on the TSTA website. Vera, Marit, Lisa and Maureen wandered round to say thanks to everyone for coming to support the team. The rest of the team sang “We love you Vera” and signed autographs.
The Tartan Army finally headed back to their bus but before leaving they were given a tray of sausage rolls, bridies, chicken legs etc. by the club to scoff on our way home. Merthyr Tydfil AFC Social Club we love you.
A taxi firm appeared just before we left with The Battlebus’ mouth organ he left in a taxi the previous night.
There is a nasty rumour that Sacks and Dianne wanted to go to Gretna on the way home.
Wullie sets a Tartan Army record for the longest period of time to keep his kilt socks up on tour. We salute you Mr Really Pulled up Socks Man!
Thanks to Blackie for organising things and let’s hope this adventure will be followed by many more, by many more.
 

Another Classic from a future Best Seller
by Stevie "CreditCard" Morris
© copyright stevie morris 2002