Best 'look who I bumped into' ever

[Guest]

Was playing golf with Zigor Aranalde a few weeks back, we were meant to be doing a "Four Ball Best Ball" with Danny Maddix and his brother but they didn't turn up.

Anyway, while we were waiting, p*ssing about on the practice putting green, Brian Deane strolls over, carrying Tony Agana on his back in a LittleLife Child Carrier.

"Alright benders" he says, eating a Wham bar and casually twirling a yo-yo up and down. "See my mate over there?" He points to Jan Fjortoft, casually throwing his balls between leather-gloved hands and leaning on the bonnet of an old Astra.

"He reckons he's the best golfist around here. We play you, Stableford Styl-ee, winner takes all.

"What's the prize then?" I say to him.

"You win, we leave this golf course forever, and it's your turf. We win, you leave, and I get to shag you girlfriend here" Deane whispered, pointing menacingly at Zigor. The Spaniard took a long draw on his cigarillo, adjusted the peak of sombrero, and growled in reply "Done"

We won obviously, despite Fjortoft cheating like a b*stard and Deane constantly harassing Zigs (pinching his arse etc.) Agana noisily s*it his nappy on the 13th, putting Fjortoft off a crucial putt. They argued like a couple of gays over Alan Carr's pants.

After the game, we slow clapped them off the 18th and past the clubhouse, and they stomped off like scalded children, Agana needed changing again too so Deane was mega-cross. We finished the day by meeting a very-late Maddix and his brother (Lloyd Owusu) for a few sherbets and a curry. Ended up back at mine watching old wrestling DVD's and listening to Drissa hammering a couple of hotties in the bathroom.

Great times.

flippingbrilliant.

[US_Owl]

Another memory- at the end of the 2002 season, Trond Soltvedt and myself went out one day for a picnic. We lived together at the time (platonic) and he was shattered from a hard season and putting up with the heavy drinking lifestyle we led. Many days were spent drinking with Carlton Palmer and Steve Haslam, and sometime Barry Fry would drive up with a minibus full of Southend players- usually Ricky Otto and Jeroen Boere. Things got ultra-messy when Otto was in town.

Anyway, one day Solty and I tootled out to Grassington for the day, a wicker basket crammed with pasties and fig rolls, for a bit of peace and relaxation. We parked up and ate our meal down by the river, very tranquil and sedate, just what we were looking for. After a brief snooze in the afternoon sunshine, we packed up the basket and headed back to the Astra. Trond needed a p*ss, so he headed off to a local boozer to use the facilities. We had planned to stop in Pateley Bridge on the way back and eat fish and chips in the park, round off a perfect day. After 20 minutes, Trond had still not returned, and I knew something was wrong. I popped into the pub to see what all the fuss was about.

As I strolled into the Lounge area, I immediately knew we were in trouble. John Wark and Steve Ogrizovic were sitting in the corner with Brian Kilcline, heads down, looking terrified. I spotted Danny Dichio cowering behind the fruit machine, his jeans displaying dark patches around the groin area. Then I looked at the pool table, and saw Trond, desperate and alone, trapped by a towering brute of a man who was brandishing a pool cue over his head whilst lazily twirling the 8-ball around in a football sock.

He span around, his eyes crazed and to be brutally honest I nearly fled. He looked like a demon from a nightmare, ready to kill anything in his path.

It was Julian Joachim.

"Alright Joach, thats enough now" I heard from behind me, and saw Robbie Earle and Peter Fear, ready for a fight. Joachim tried to flee, but they snared him in a net and proceeded to kick him to pieces on the floor. Dichio had pooed his pants by now, sobbing in the corner. I saw John Wark whispering a silent prayer. Kilcline just watched, rigid as a pikestaff under the table.

They stuffed Joachim into a pet carrier and apologised to the barman, throwing some notes on the bar to cover the damage. I rescued Trond and we had a few drinks to calm our nerves. We left the silent pub and drove to Pateley Bridge, only to be stopped by the Police on the way and breathalysed. We escaped sanction by performing an erotic dance at the side of the road.

On arriving in Pateley Bridge we booked into a delightful guest-house, exhausted from our ordeal. The morning after we found a dead Beagle nailed to our door. Joachim was a shadow that could not be chased away.

On the plus side, the breakfasts were cooked by Steve Stone and they were a real treat.

[Guest]

The bit about the breakfast been cooked by Steve stones a bit far fetched

[US_Owl]

The bit about the breakfast been cooked by Steve stones a bit far fetched

Summer holidays. Him and John Beresford owned the place. Beresford did the room cleaning, Stone was the chef, worked like clockwork.

[FreshOwl]

Was playing golf with Zigor Aranalde a few weeks back, we were meant to be doing a "Four Ball Best Ball" with Danny Maddix and his brother but they didn't turn up.

Anyway, while we were waiting, p*ssing about on the practice putting green, Brian Deane strolls over, carrying Tony Agana on his back in a LittleLife Child Carrier.

"Alright benders" he says, eating a Wham bar and casually twirling a yo-yo up and down. "See my mate over there?" He points to Jan Fjortoft, casually throwing his balls between leather-gloved hands and leaning on the bonnet of an old Astra.

"He reckons he's the best golfist around here. We play you, Stableford Styl-ee, winner takes all.

"What's the prize then?" I say to him.

"You win, we leave this golf course forever, and it's your turf. We win, you leave, and I get to shag you girlfriend here" Deane whispered, pointing menacingly at Zigor. The Spaniard took a long draw on his cigarillo, adjusted the peak of sombrero, and growled in reply "Done"

We won obviously, despite Fjortoft cheating like a b*stard and Deane constantly harassing Zigs (pinching his arse etc.) Agana noisily s*it his nappy on the 13th, putting Fjortoft off a crucial putt. They argued like a couple of gays over Alan Carr's pants.

After the game, we slow clapped them off the 18th and past the clubhouse, and they stomped off like scalded children, Agana needed changing again too so Deane was mega-cross. We finished the day by meeting a very-late Maddix and his brother (Lloyd Owusu) for a few sherbets and a curry. Ended up back at mine watching old wrestling DVD's and listening to Drissa hammering a couple of hotties in the bathroom.

Great times.

i'm gone

[sandowl]

Summer holidays. Him and John Beresford owned the place. Beresford did the room cleaning, Stone was the chef, worked like clockwork.

you are completely off yer trolley.quality. :tango: :tango:

[US_Owl]

you are completely off yer trolley.quality. :tango: :tango:

I dont know why people keep accusing me of being crazy!!! These are true stories!! :st2:

[Adem Poric]

Managed to get this pic on the first tee.

Fjortoft has banged some timber on

[US_Owl]

Fjortoft has banged some timber on

Aranalde likes his kee-bobs these days too.

[cityowl007]

Some cracking banter on here. Really cheered me up. First post brilliant - really sums up the pigs. As for me, I was minding my own business on the train back from Liverpool in October after the 1-1 draw they had with man ure, when lo and behold.... Efan Ekoku comes and sits down next to me. Top lad.

[barmyowl1212]

I saw a pig after west brom game and he wasnt stopping to let me cross the road and had his car window open. I shouted mine the gap. True story yo!

[Guest Leeswfc3]

good story, you should have tripped the fatty up on way out :)

[Lawrie Madden]

I once almost wiped out Stuart Pearce and his missus in Notts

He was Captain of England at the time as well

weeing down sideways this particular day, im on a delivery turned down side of Sytners BMW as i turned this tail with huge golf umbrella runs across the road in front of me with brolly sideways on so i couldn't see who it was .

Being the polite chap i am i wound the window down and gave it the person both barrels told him he was a stupid edit and that i'd run him down next time as i slithered about the cobbles of this sidestreet he lowered the brolly and to be fair apologised straight away, his missus had a reight pop at him tho for almost getting em killed .

Mind if i had killed him he wouldn't have missed that peno nor made that w ank back pass against San Marino.

[Brucey owl]

WAS IT CRAIG FLINDERZ???? HAHAHAHA KIVO OWL WILL KNOW WHAT IM SAYIN!

[mozzy85]

A couple of years ago when we were relegated we played United near the end of the season, the 'we'll never play you again' game.

After the game an old school mate spotted me at Hillsborough Corner (I say mate - he was actually a fat shuffleer who used to pick on me cos I was a scrawny kid who supported Wednesday - the term 'pick on someone your own size' was invented for this thrower).

He came over with a smug look on his face and screamed in my face "You're going DOWNNNNN", which brought snorts of delights from his Burberry wearing neanderthal mates.

I never forgot that moment, partly because of the foam and spittle that entered my respiratory system, mostly because he was your typical pig - that will have been the only game he went to that season.

Anyway, I know he still lives in the village but I haven't seen him for a while. Until this morning.

On my way to the Post Office, I saw in front of me a bloke, *** in one hand, twin pram in the other, with a 1990's United shirt the one with diamonds instead of stripes) stretching round his rotund gut.

I was willing him into the Post Office as that was where I was headed - and my wish came true.

I got the drink I was after and made sure I alligned myself alongside him at the till - me at the shop counter, him at the Post Office counter.

I was just about to pipe up when he muttered "Can I put this giro in my current account please" to the woman.

Then he turned round and saw me - without saying a word he turned back round and started sifting through the bargain bin full of out of date Monster Munch next to him.

"Looking forward to the new season?" I asked, pointing to his shirt. "Oh ey up mate, haven't seen you for a while - nah i'm not too bothered any more, I haven't been for years, it's a mugs game" he responded.

"I'm sure I saw you at Hillsborough a couple of years ago?"

"Oh yeah, I went with our *insert relatives name here* for a laugh i think".

"Weren't you at the play-offs this year too? I saw your Facebook pictures on the pitch against Stevenage."

"Yeah tickets were only a fiver so I thought i'd tek kids to their first game, you know"

(By this time he's finished getting his money and trying to leave)

"Yeah, they need to taste the atmosphere don't they mate. Didn't you go to Wembley as well? *insert name of Blade who ran a bus from Kivo* said you went down with them?"

"Yeah, went down for the day, went on wee wee all day - I knew they'd lose cos they always do"

"Never mind *insert dickheads name*, you might get us in the cup yet".

He walked out muttering "you never know".

For a usually restrained lad, I was quite proud of the conversation.

haha brilliant mate i dont think i could have restrained myself that much!