Actually I didn’t, I’ve never met Noel Gallagher. Not only is Noel one of my heroes, but he also happens to be the funniest man in the world. I got into Oasis, his band big time in 1995. But last year my Dad, Joe Blair actually met Noel Gallagher! Now how jealous was I on hearing this story. My Dad never made himself out to be an Oasis fan, though he did sometimes borrow my Oasis CDs and shared a respect for Noel Gallagher. My Dad also has had many business trips with work over the years, including many to London. So the story of my Dad meeting Noel Gallagher goes like this…
It was April 2007 (as I remember) and unbeknown to me, my Dad was in London on a work trip. At the same time I happenned to be working in London for Bite Communications, and would often meet up with my Dad for a pint when he was over. This time however I didn’t even know he was in the same city as me, until suddenly at my desk in work I got a text message. It read something like “Hi Jonny. I’m in London today. I just met Noel Gallagher. He was great. x Dad” Straight away I thought “what???” and later called him to find if he had got me an autograph or indeed a photo of Noel. He had neither and here’s why…my Dad was casually walking around lunchtime in North London, I believe it was near King’s Cross or Angel and Noel Gallagher just strolled down past him in the street! He was wearing the trademark shades, hush puppies, jeans and dark jacket. This was the rock star, Noel Gallagher. My Dad stopped him and said “Hello Noel.” At this point Noel Gallagher stopped and said “Alright, how you doing”, shook my Dad’s hand and then when asked for an autograph, Noel said “yeah no problem, have you got a pen?” My Dad started laughing and said “No I don’t, have you?” Noel then said “I don’t have one either!” and they had a laugh about it, before my Dad said something like “wait till I tell my son I’ve met you!” The fact that the world’s best songwriter doesn’t carry a pen with him is something quite hard to believe, but then he was, as my Dad said “just popping into a shop to buy milk and cigarettes!”
Obviously my Dad didn’t have a camera on him either and so the meeting happenned, it was over in the blink of an eye and there was no proof it happenned! My Dad also said that a few other people noticed him talking to Noel Gallagher from across the street and recognised him as well. The amount of times I have walked down streets in London and past Oxford Street, Camden etc. and I’ve NEVER EVER met a celebrity, except I guess for former Fulham FC player Steed Malbranque who I stopped at Waterloo Station once. How jealous I was, my Dad has met Noel Gallagher and described him as a “nice bloke.” Of course he is, he’s one of us. He’s a British guy who likes football, music, ladies and beer. Someday maybe I’ll have a pint with Noel Gallagher.
Apparently also my mate Colin Walker met Noel Gallagher outside the Odyssey Centre in Belfast in 2002 and I remember hearing a rumour that 2 ex school colleagues Flick (Ricky Carson) and Jordie McCluskey once met him at Gatwick Airport. We are now about a month away from the next Oasis single, The Shock of the Lightning, which I will buy as ever, as I love Oasis and try to buy everything they release. An album, Dig Out Your Soul will follow before a massive UK Tour, which I will aim to go to and make it my 12th Oasis gig. If Noel’s reading this, meet me for a pint sometime.
And the comedy side to Noel Gallagher, I remember the TFI Friday interview in 1996, where Noel was absolutely hilarious on the Chris Evans show, comments such as “never trust a man with a mirror in the shape of his own head” and “i actually did want to be liam…for one second. i cant remember what or why, but i did.” There was also the “doing drugs is like having a cup of tea” quote in 1997, which made it into all the media and even had the House of Commons discussing him. Then last week Radio One DJ Chris Moyles interviewed a drunk/hungover Noel Gallagher on his breakfast radio show, with Noel coming off with some classic quotes including the fact that “is there anything funnier than a dog in a hat?” and “the best thing a dog will ever do is sit in a car’s passenger seat with the window down, its head out the window and the car going over 30 miles an hour.” This is just the modest Manchester City fan who wrote the words “an extraordinary guy can never have an ordinary day.” Below are a few of his interviews, maybe someday I will actually meet Noel Gallagher…
At this point you’ll be asking what the fuck is a “MySac”, and even if you knew what it was, you’d be wondering why it was once a phenomenon. Well read on and all shall be revealed…It was early August 2006 and I was working for the busy PR Agency Bite Communications in London, and Bite prides itself on creativity, innovation and more importantly “the people.” Staff matter in any job, honestly, it makes such a big difference in a person’s day if the staff care and look enthusiastic. Bite also choose staff partly on personality, so I was honoured to be given the position in Bite, and although I eventually left the company in June 2007, part of me wanted to stay, but most of me thought “I’ve done it, I’ve enjoyed, and its time to move on.” As such I enjoyed many and various events, busy times and nights out with the staff and people from Bite Communications and our various publics (media and clients). It was all a kind of iceberged dream, smooth and to the point, and even if it sunk the Titanic, we can forgive it. So the story begins…
Every year Bite has a “Summer Party” for staff, and the only one of these I attended was in August 2006. It is basically a full day and night event, where the company directors and associates do presentations, there is a lot of team bonding, organised games and all the staff spend a full day together away from the office. It is one of the perks of PR and an excellent day in the Bite Communications calendar. In the build up to the day out, the managers and directors had begun a serious of silly billy office tricks to play on the higher paid staff. Each day of that week we would do something different. One day we all wore hats, one day we all wore pink, one day we all wore school ties, one day we all queued for a piss at the same time, something was funny, and it was all very random, anyhow, the summer party…
The day began at an unbusy pink Shepi B tube station as I waited for my normal “Hammersmith City line train to Hammersmith. The next station is Goldhawk Road.” Then on arrival at Bite Communications, at Ravenscourt Park, a coach waited for us all, staff got on board and drove to Ealing, which was where the “secret location” kept quiet by the Bite ‘socialites team’ was. We stopped at Ealing Sports Stadium, which is where the cricket and even Ealing FC play their homes matches, another football ground to add to my illustrous list of those visited, and the start of a cracker day out with work.
Early on the speeches took on a partly serious and partly comedy tone, with the year’s turnover figures being read out in amongst speeches by Bite staff on their life story. I wasn’t asked to do a speech, I was quite new at the time. Speeches also included one from the Finance Team Director, Hamish, whose wife actually came from Bangor in Northern Ireland. We had mid morning coffee and tea and then after more speeches we enjoyed a full barbecue and salad in the London sunshine. All this paid for by work, which was fab. Then the afternoon saw us all split into groups for some competitive stuff. The team I was in was a good one, because I was with workmates who I didn’t normally speak to, as they worked on different accounts and brands. As I remember it, the Team 4 that I was in was: Jonny Rosemont, Emma Collier (now Coleman), Foo Dowling and myself. The task we were given was that we were to imagine it was the year 2010 and we had launched a new product for one of our brands and were hoping to pick up an award at PR Week. The winner would be announced over dinner at the restaurant we had booked for later on, which was at this stage again a secret.
So in our group, we thought of a product, which could have been anything we wanted. We decided to go with an “invisible man bag”, basically a bag for any man to keep everything in and carry around with him, plus it was invisible and had no weight restrictions. This creative and genius idea could only have come from staff at Bite Communications, and even though the product will never exist, we had to “PR it”. Then we thought of a name, which was “MySac”, we used this as some kind of play on the Apple brand at Bite, which had “iPods”, originally we were going to call it an “iBag” or an “iSac”, but went with “MySac”. In our group we were then given a video camcorder and asked to compile a 15 minute video on the product, using various props and whatever else we wanted. The props came at a price, we were given tokens and had to exchange them. Jonny Rosemont was always a strong character at Bite and Foo was an expert in media and design, so he did the filiming. Props included me playing an acoustic guitar, before Jonny R said “you know what mate, you can put that in your MySac. It was all a bit surreal, first inventing a product and then promoting it. We also did a bit of video where a robber (played by me) had been released from prison and thought the MySac would be perfect for stealing things. As it weighed nothing, you could put a car in it! In then end we went for the fact that the MySac was the ultimate new consumer product for the British man in 2010. Then the bar opened and we could all relax, have a drink and get changed into evening attire…
Fancy dress for the evening had been named in advance, something with a Mexican flavour, or related to Cowboys and Indians. This hint meant we expected we were going to a Mexican or an Indian restaurant for dinner. We all got changed in Ealing Football Club and I had bought a cowboy suit and was going to mix it all up with my Northern Irish green, to be some kind of “Northern Irish Cowboy.” Just to be different and there was to be a prize for the best fancy dress. Jonny Rosemont wore a large Tequila bottle, as we mingled with more beer before the coach would leave.
We did pose for some group photos in our fancy dress before the coach left, these photos I don’t have and I’m not sure who took them, but one thing was for sure, we were all in fancy dress and all enjoying it! The coach then dropped us off at a Mexican Restaurant in Ealing, where a wheelbarrow filled with beer greeted us on entrance. Well I never!! It was a full day out of paid work and then suddenly I was getting drunk for free on the company. That’s how to build team and staff morale and it works wonders I tell you.
After a few beers we were getting stuck into our main meal, after which we would watch all the groups videos on the big screen! The beer was flowing and it was going down a treat as we got stuck into Enchiladas, Tortillas Chips, Wraps and Mexican Spicy Chicken. I cant remember who I sat with, though I think it was with Heidi Jutton, Katy Cook, Sally Plant, Jon Bawden and Nadia Guirirem. After this we gathered at the front and we all got embarrased as our faces and voices appeared in front of the rest of the company as the “PR Week 2010 Awards” ceremony began.
The other groups ideas were great as well, though the “MySac” was untouchable, well literally…Other ideas included a “PR Dolly”, basically a lady who does all the PR for you meaning you can chill out and get a robot to do your work. A teleport machine like Doctor Who’s Tardis was another group’s idea. Oh and one thing I forgot was at Ealing Football Club earlier that day, we had met Anton Ferdinand of West Ham United and England. He posed for autographs, and even appeared in one of the Bite fake videos for the day! Once all the videos had been watched the panel, and the promotions company who provided the days entertainment revealed the winner…which was…
US – Team 4 of course, and the “MySac”, we went up to the front and were given medals! It was a nice gesture and I still have the medal, which I also wore the next day at the Leyton Orient v. AFC Bournemouth match. It was great craic and the beer continued, I must have been on my 15th free bottle by that stage. Then there was another competition and it was for the best fancy dress. The judges for this narrowed it down to 3, most people had just dressed up as an “ordinary” cowboy or indian, however, the 3 on the podium that night were myself, Jonny Rosemont and Craig O’Boyle.
I was in a Northern Ireland football shirt, a green hat, chaps and the usual cowboy attire with guns. Jonny R was a brown and yellow Tequila bottle and Craig O’Boyle had added his own pun and comedy, with a take on the word “cow boy.” He had taken it literally and was actually a boy dressed like a cow, well he was a cowboy. When we all did our speeches and the votes were cast I came a respectable third so I took home a bronze for Northern Ireland. Jonny R came second and Craig deservedly for the effort he’d put in, won it! The photos tell some of the story…
Then Claire from finance in work led the show and had us all line dancing, not really my thing, but I joined in none the less, and soon I was drunk and talking with all sorts of people in work. We had the place totally booked out, so nobody else except Bite staff was there. The next day would be a Saturday so no office hangovers! The bar closed at 11 pm, and a few of us wanted to keep partying so Jonny R talked us into a nightclub in Ealing/Hammersmith were I sank gin and tonics and chatted to random girls. It was actually in this bar on that particular night that I met the curious Mary Kolo, a pretty Ugandan lady who gave me some spice some weeks later, and as I shared a taxi home with Alison and Emma from work the night was over, but two years on, the memories are vivid and are a joy to relive. If you do ever see a “MySac” anywhere on your travels, I was one of the elite few who invented the product, back in August 2006.
I had never lived in any form of official student accomodation before, despite having studied at Belvoir Training Centre (1997 – 1998) and Ards Tech (2002 – 2003), and even when I moved to Bournemouth, England in 2003, I didn’t move into the student halls of residence. 2003 is when I started studying at Bournemouth University, and for the first two years I had shared with a number of students, though in two separate houses in town. From September 2003 – September 2004 I lived at 256 Holdenhurst Road in the lovely Springbourne area of Bournemouth. There I shared with Steve, Claire and Hannah for the first nine months and then with Jody, Neil and Austin for the summer months, as the other students all moved out. I did originally apply to live at the Bournemouth University Halls of Residence, and didn’t get chosen to live there, rather I was moved into what is known as a “Unilet House.” I was living with other students, but not in halls of residence and the British student experience that comes with it…
So two years on, and myself and two mates faced a slight dilemma for one month. Our lease of rent for a house at Wallisdown’s Alton Road was due to end in July and we suddenly had nowhere to live for the month of August having agreed to move into another student house in Ensbury Park, but NOT until September 2005. So myself Jody Casey and Clare Tweedy had to find somewhere to live, fast. I could never understand, and still don’t, as to why students tend to live in one house during what is “term time” and then choose to live with parents outside of this time. It never ceases to amaze me how many students do this, they claim it is to “save money”, however what is the fucking point of paying rent for one house and then living with your parents, some students I shared with over the years took this to the extreme, staying with parents at weekends, not even having any kind of job and living at their “student house” only when they had lessons. In my humble opinion this isn’t student life at all; student life should be about living, working and studying independently in a house you pay rent for and not spending time with family, as the idea is to get away from that. And on top of this, it is my opinion that the British Government should only allow citizens to study and attend university if they are working, ALL students should be forced to have a part time job, at least 8 hours per week, and if not do some community service. I believe in the UK we are losing manpower over this, and furthermore a student should be working to earn his or her right to further education. Students that don’t work are lazy and spoon fed and I have little or no time for such people. Anyhows…
So in July 2005 myself and Clare applied to live in the Bournemouth University Student Halls of Residence, but only for one month, as we had other accomodation lined up. Eventually we both learned we had been successful and were allocated each a student room on floors 1 and 2 of Cranborne House (pictured), situated very centrally to Bournemouth’s nightlife, beach and train station. The location was superb and we were going to spend one month in Cranborne House. Having just turned 25, I was finally going to be living in Student Halls of Residence, albeit a bit later in life than most people, and also during the summer, when strangely there are very few students living in the party beach town of Bournemouth. Of course, Clare and I had a room each, but Jody hadn’t applied, as the plan was to split the room and share the rent for a month. It was going to be interesting, but Jody and I had lived, worked and studied together for some two years and all would be fine sharing a room! The room itself was tiny, with a very small shower room just off it…
At the time Jody and I were both working as seasonal supervisors for Bournemouth Borough Council on the busy Ice Cream kiosks by the beach. The location of Cranborne House was ideal for work, and I also had a free town centre car parking space in the rear car park there, which was a real luxury. We were 2 minutes walk from the pub, 10 minutes walk from work, 5 minutes walk from ASDA and 6 minutes walk from the Train Station. It was an excellent location and a really busy exciting month, it easily merits a blog post and indeed other moments from the summer of 2005 have merited and will continue to be covered in future blog posts. So Jody and I shared a room and a key for a whole month, this meant we needed to strategically know each others working hours and patterns so that the person who had the key would be the next one to come home. It always worked out OK, in fact in the month I was locked out once and Jody was locked out once. Our “student flatmates” in there were diverse, and I was surprised to learn that in our “flat” (which had 6 bedrooms), we shared with Joanne Dark, of Wales who had been studying Public Relations with me two years previously. I always fancied her actually and she had a lovely Welsh accent, though I never told her, or even enjoyed a drink with her that month, as busy as times were. The other flat mates were two Italian guys, with whom I seem to have lost touch, I think it was Mario and Vittorio, and we often enjoyed a late night beer and chat. Christoph from Munich Germany was also living with us, and he was in a wheelchair, to his credit he was a great flat mate, as he never asked us to help him with anything despite his disability. We also shared with a Spanish girl and a French guy, though not everyone was always around.
The accomodation was clean and tidy, if basic, plus we had to pay for our laundry, though the kitchen/lounge was beezer. Jody and I would often enjoy a post work pint in O’Neills or the Lounge/iBar which were both about a 2 minute walk. It was my only experience of living in student halls of residence and I’m glad I did it and enjoyed it, again the mix of nationalities (again NO English housemates in this English University Accomodation!) made for a wonderful month, where I also watched the Cherries three times (Hartlepool and Walsall draws and Bristol City win) and Northern Ireland twice (Azerbaijan and England victories which I flew home for).
What Room was I In? -Flat 1, Room 4, Cranborne House, Lansdowne, Bournemouth.
Who I Lived With – Jody Casey, Joanne Dark, two Italians, one German, one Frenchie, one Spaniard.
When I Lived There – August – early September 2005.
“In 15 years time, you will be living in Poland” – Nobody Said That To Me in 2005.
Working Wednesdays: Bournemouth Best Break Second Season (Summer 2005)
An earlier post on this weblog revealed my first summer working by the busy Bournemouth beach. To date I have worked as a seasonal seafront worker for Bournemouth Borough Council in three separate years: 2004, 2005 and 2006. This post I will concentrate on my return to the beach job in 2005. I returned to Best Break in April 2005, almost a year after I started working there during my first summer. I found it like a dream working by the beach and was clocking up loads of hours working in huts by the beach selling ice cream. When I started back in my second summer, Tom (Gareth Thomas), Nigel Halligan, Christian Matt (Matt James), John Vacher and Manager Matt (Matt Calkin) were are still there from the previous summer. It was like we had gone into hibernation in the winter! I had just completed my second attempt at first year on the Public Relations course at the university, and had been quite lazy the previous six months, by only working in Tesco (and Heathlands Hotel for a while), so now I was ready to work 60 hour weeks again, while enjoying myself of course!
Working Wednesdays: Bournemouth Best Break Second Season (Summer 2005)
One of the first days I started back was so hot and the beach was packed. As the summer season hadn’t started fully, we were quite low on staff, and the queues all day were rammed! I remember working with Julio Felipe, a quality Columbian guy who I want to meet again some day. That day we did nothing but serve serve serve. I think we had 7 members of staff on the whole seafront and took a lot more than £6,000 all in. Not that we would see any of the money apart from the usual 10 hours pay we would get from the shift. My housemate Jody Casey, also came back to work at the beach for the second summer, though this was to be Jody’s last on the beach, as he doesn’t tend to dwell on things like I do and he decided to move on, leaving Bournemouth for good in 2006. The job itself then, as in 2004, I was working mainly as an ice cream seller. A nice little job even on busy days. The official title was Seasonal Seafront Assistant and then Seasonal Seafront Supervisor.
By June 2005, we had many more new members of staff, plus some of the previous year’s hardcore party team were back in town, including Brazilian Renato (who would leave soon after). Those who returned from the previous year were Elena Machota, Javier Gonzalez, “Gary” Li Ning, Nacho Blanco, Roberto Rodriguez, Piotr Oczkowski and Francisco. We had some new English staff like Ben Paulley (rock star and Tottenham fan), Gary King (Bournemouth and Tottenham fan) and Charlie Messenger (a scummer [southampton fc] fan from Poole). It was good to have the same mix as the previous year, with nationalities from all over the world working in the “Best Break 2005 Team.”
On a typical day the seafront kiosks where we worked (the council owned quite a lot of them) would be open from 9 am until 9 pm during the summer. On wet days, we would close some of the places at 5 pm, or earlier. When there were special events on, this would vary with bikers days and race for life, we would open at 7 am, and on busy summer weekend nights, we started staying open till 4am as Bournemouth has a lively night life. Firework Fridays were also a dream. Bournemouth seafront would be rammed full on Friday nights and we would get madly busy in the main Best Break kiosk selling burgers, hot dogs and ice creams to the crowds awaiting the fireworks display, which I think were at 10 pm.
Having worked there the previous summer I was actually one of the “veterans” in the job and because of this I was promoted to Seasonal Supervisor for 6 weeks of the summer season. This meant more money which was great and a little bit of responsibility such as holding the key to the tills and closing down some of the kiosks at night. In such a job it was hard to remain popular amongst staff once you got promoted, but I managed this somehow. On busy hot days I used to sing songs in Best Break and tried to improve the English speaking within the Polish crowd, the songs don’t seem funny to an outsider but stuff such as “Alan Connell Alan”, “We need more rolls”, “We sell ice creams” became popular at work. Myself and Javier also prepared a special “Alan Connell Burger” button on the till which was actually just to open the till without having to put a payment through in the times where nobody had a key. All the international staff joined in the fun, and for a while it seemed that working life couldn’t get any better at that rate of pay, which was fairly underpaid for a busy beach based outlet in a popular resort in England.
So the banter was there and every single day was a pleasure. You could be talking communism with Chinese Gary in a busy mobile 2 beach outlet, you could be helping Ben Paulley to write another guitar drenched song for his rock band “The Waves”, you could be checking out the ladies with the enigmatic Massi, you could even flirt with the pretty Estonian shop assistant who worked on the pier (why she never properly wanted to date me, I’ll never know). Days were diverse. You would also be asked a ridiculous amount of lunatic questions by members of the public, of which current flat mate Mona states “Do you sell ice creams?” to be the epitomy of stupidity. For God’s Sake we work in an ice cream outlet by the beach!
It’s actually quite hard to put into words just how good the summer of 2005 in Best Break was. The days in work were inspired. The scenery looking out at the beach was great every day. Then there was the random football nights, I seem to remember one match at Kings Park Boscombe in June and one in Meyrick Park in August (a 2-2 draw in which I scored for the UK team v. Rest of World!). Then there were the nights out, the house parties, the dinner time pints, and the final beach party to top the summer off. Anyone that was there (and all those listed below) should know and remember how good it was to be a part of the beach team that year.
In Best Break I would normally perch myself on Till 4 shouting out orders to Burgers to Massi, Chips to Artur and Hot Dogs to Rafal. Rafal and Artur, two Polish lads took a while to grow on me, and once I got to know them, the craic was great. I have since been to visit them both in Warsaw. On busy days (and actually, most days in summer) we would also open Till 5 which would bang out yet more food orders. It was always a challenge to mix with all the different cultures, especially trying to get them all to understand not just English, but English in a Northern Irish accent. It would be like “here give us 2 burgers, 6 chips, 2 hot dogs. With onions, without cheese. The sauce is there. Who’s next?” If you bought a cheeseburger on Bournemouth beach in 2005, then 6 times out of 7 it was me who sold you it, or cooked it…
During the six month summer season (I actually worked from April – October, 7 months) I also moved house twice. At the start I was traipsing into work from the edge of town, at Wallisdown, in the middle I was sharing with Jody in Lansdowne and by the summer’s end I had moved into a new place at Ensbury Park, on the edge of town. The first house was like a mansion at Alton Road, we called it Alton Towers. Our farewell to that house was a massive beach staff house party where we invited everyone from Best Break, there must have been about 30 of us there at mine and Jody’s, where the beer, wine, cocktails and Polish Zubrowka flowed.
The previous summer had seen a different crowd in Best Break enjoy some summer romances, such as Jody and Sally, Carlos and Christine, Monika and Barry. This summer continued this sort of fashion, with Gary King and Ania, Charlie and Kamila (some kind of Royal link in there, we thought) and no doubt some other in-flirting amongst the staff. I was never that lucky, either that or I didn’t want to date or sleep with any one at work. Well maybe I did like Sahra and she wouldn’t have me. She was married, mind you…
There were a lot of Polish staff in 2005, Poland had just entered the EU in 2004, and the job opportunities were there for the people to come to England, and Bournemouth was a popular place for them. Then there was the delightful young Yosmer. A Venezuelean girl with that whole Latino look, the obvious charm, Latino dancing and a great sense of humour and understanding of English. Most of these people come and go out of our lives, as everybody moves on. I haven’t seemed to move on yet. I’m still in Bournemouth, I still go down to the beach and twice this year I have had the offer of going back to Best Break to work again. As recently as yesterday I could have been back in my old place of work. I had called into Best Break (or the “Number One Stores” which is the offices for Best Break) with Mona, who is back working in Best Break now, back from Germany for the summer and living with me. I first met Mona in Best Break in 2004. Life goes full circle sometimes.
So if working there was so good, and so much fun, how come I didn’t go back? Well I did in 2006, before I moved to London, then in 2007 I went travelling in the summer so missed the opportunity and right now I work in the Pavilion Theatre and for Wightlink on ferry boats, so my hands are tied as it is. I don’t rule out a return to those days. Dreaming ourselves away together on a Bournemouth beach and selling 99s, which were only called that because it was the 99th variety of Cadbury’s. They were never 99p, that’s just a myth. In 2005 they were priced as follows:
Small cone – 70 p
Small cone and flake – 90 p
Large cone – £1.10
Large cone and flake – £1.30 (a 99″)
I started off shit at pulling the old Mr. Softee’s in 2004 to becoming the king of them by 2005. I could hold 8 in one hand, and at one point I served a customer 16 in one go (8 on each hand). I could also make the highest Mr. Softee in Best Break. We often had competitions and I always won. You’ll see examples of some of my Mr. Softee’s on the photos on here, but they don’t do it justice. I could mix up big ones, the key was in how you build the base. I could easily make a Mr. Softee one metre high. Sometimes I got arrogant and did this in front of kids, they loved it!
The summer of 2005 came and went in a blink of an eye, and I’m really proud to say that I still keep in touch with a load of those people I worked with. Three of the Polish guys I have met in Warsaw and invited to Belfast in 2009 (Piotr, Artur and Rafal). Four of the English lads I am meeting up with soon for a pinting session, and I still work with Nigel, Remek and Ania at the Pavilion Theatre. The others will be hanging around somewhere. They were great times. If you were there, get in touch with me or put a comment up…
The Best Break Team, Class of 2005:
Ironically, as of June 2020, I have now visited all the below countries and met a lot of these people again. Rafal, became my best friend. It was more than just a job selling cheeseburgers by the beach!
England – Matt Calkin (Manager Matt), Nigel Halligan, Matt James (Christian Matt), Gary King, Charlie Messenger, John Vacher, Ben Paulley.
Republic of Ireland – Jody Casey.
Wales – Tom.
Angola – Roberto Monteiro.
Venezuela – Yosmer Velazquez.
Brazil – Renato, Sahra Fernanda, Alessandra Vollrath, Lucas.
China – “Danny” Li Ting, “Chinese Gary” Li Ning, “William” Wei Chen.
Poland – Rafal Kowalczyk, Artur Gorecki, Peter Kay, Piotr Oczkowski, Lucas, Polish Tom, Marta Milczarek, Ania K, Kamila Piorowska, Remek, Zuzia, Robert Kabzinski and Magdalena Malinowska.
Spain – Nacho Blanco, Roberto Rodriguez, Elena Machota, Javier Gonzalez, Rueben, Francisco.
Belgium – Massi.
Colombia – Julio Fillippe.
Northern Ireland – Jonny Blair.
(Apologies to those I’ve left out)
Nights out we had:
Bowling in Branksome, then Walkabout
Jumpin Jaks
House Party at Mine and Jodys in Alton Road
House Party at Kamilas in town centre
Beach party at the summer’s end on the main beach
Jobs I Did – Seasonal Supervisor, Pier cafe tidier, seafront assistant, ice cream seller, hot food vendor, tea and coffee seller.
Places I Worked – Best Break (main building by beach), Mobile 2, Mobile 3, Mobile 4 (Beach kiosks), The Trailer, The Buggy, West Beach Kiosk (Also known as “Mona Beach”, inspired by my friend Mona who loved working there!), The Pier Cafe.
It all began in February 2008. Myself and Cornish Cherry Dan had decided we were going to the last AFC Bournemouth away match in Carlisle no matter what. The reasons for going were many and various, one of which was we realised we could
actually get there for cheaper and via Scotland on the flights from Ryanair. If we were saying goodbye to the third division (why the fuck is it called League One?) it was going to be in style. We began to plot the “party plane,” using the internet and a website belonging to Ryan Air.
A click of a few buttons and suddenly we were confirmed on the early Saturday morning Ryan Air flight from Bournemouth Hurn to Glasgow Prestwick and the Sunday evening flight back, all for less than £45 including taxes and what have ye. Not bad for an away trip and especially via a different country (or if you must, a different region of the same “country”; Scotland, UK) At that stage it was just the two of us, and relegation was staring us in the face. We advertised it as a “relegation party” to all of our mates. However an inspired turn in fortunes for the Cherries over the next two months kept the dream alive till the final day, 10 points stolen by the FA or not, we were making one hell of a fight. This fight had reached a telling pinnacle when Sam Vokes ran clear of the Railwaymen’s defence on April’s final Saturday. We were at home to Crewe Alexandra that day, who themselves were in big relegation trouble. Vokes made no mistake against a North Stand which erupted like a red and black
volcano ready to make a famous great escape (part two). As the match entered injury time, with the Cherries 1-0 up, we waited patiently and agonisingly for the ref to blow the whistle. And there it was. We had a dream now. We were heading to Carlisle, not to make up the numbers, but to win the match and stay up. I can tell you this, as a football fan, your life doesn’t get any better. The beer was sweet that night and Vokes had become a total star.
By this stage in the season, a few more mates had jumped on the bandwagon party plane and already the afcb messageboards were full of people booking their flights up there. Some people were rumoured to have paid about £180 for the same flights that me and the boy Dan had booked on a Corona inspired web browsing session three months earlier. The scene was set, the normal Airbus had been renamed a “party plane”, the Cherries could still achieve a miracle, fancy dress was made an optional extra and plastic champagne flutes were bought in G and Ts in Winton. The story begins on the Friday evening…
It was the night before the big match and a few of us had finished work and got a wee carryout (for the English amongst you thats a Northern Irish term for beer). The carryout wasn’t quite enough so we headed into “downtown Charminster” where we wore our Bournemouth tops on a lively evening. We drank long into the morning, then realised our flight was at 6.22 am (or some bizarre time like that). Only one hours sleep would be had before Swiss Cherry Corinne picked four of us up in fancy dress for a “party car” to Hurn airport. In those days it was acceptable to add the word “party” as an adjective to almost every
method of transport, or indeed every noun. If you don’t get it, its because it’s not funny. If you get it, it’s because it wasn’t funny, but you enjoyed yourself in the lack of funniness of it. Either way the barrel of laughs began when three of us decided that the £1.99 bottle of cheap Cava from Asda was NOT the champagne we had craved to start the day off. Still, it didn’t stop us drinking it as a wake up call.
The fancy dress was as follows and in keeping with the theme of the day: myself in Tartan gear like a wannabe Scotsman (it was only fair since we were going via Scotland), Dan dressed like a robber (we were looking to get out of jail), Neil dressed as Elvis Presley (Elvis isn’t dead and we hoped the Cherries wouldn’t be) and then there was Patrick dressed in a blue pullover. “What have you come as you eejit I screeched at him?” No answer was given as it was obvious that one of your mates always has to wear the opposition’s colours on the day of a big match. And for no apparent reason. We still wonder why Patrick did that. Perhaps he’ll read this and have an answer. Even the females in our immediate group also joined in, if not in full fancy
dress at least Swiss Corinne and Northern Irish Gemma donned Cherry colours for the day. Then was the story of the Shep. Shep had been to most of the previous matches with us, but since he was not based in Bournemouth at the time, he decided to get his own breakaway “party train” and meet us in Carlisle. His cowboy hat added to the day’s party atmosphere, but not before we had arrived at a busy Hurn Airport.
Once through security – first time I’d been frisked in fancy dress, and sadly not by an attractive Russian female – we grabbed an early morning beer, well most of us, some sipped on water and tea, which I found rather disturbing and in bad taste. Soon Paul Williams and Linux had joined us and a group of red and black shirts were gathering by Gate 3, which included Steve Brown, and Serena and Dave, some of the Portman/Percy Shelly regulars. The flight was on time and the party plane dream was happenning. The flight was full and at a guess I’d say at least 57 Bournemouth fans boarded it. Not all were wearing shirts and drinking champagne, but chants of we are “staying up” and “flying high up in the sky” were given blank glances by Latvian air hostesses, who only saving grace were decent sized breasts for the old men behind us to glance at. It wasn’t us, honestly…actually it was all me, and nice boobs they were.
Once we had hovered somewhere over urban Coventry I popped open the party champagne (I bought a higher quality one this time – £18 in the airport, as obviously you cant get it through security). The glasses were raised and Cornish Cherry sat by the window, luckily avoiding my dodgy opening of the champagne bottle. Only about one shot of champagne was lost, and it was nestled on to my Scottish kilt anyhow. We had hoped Nonny would be on our flight for a highest ever rendition of Red Army.
But he was already in Scotland by this stage. The party plane was great atmosphere and everyone who didn’t like football asked us where we were going and wished us good luck. We’d need it, we were playing a team with an amazing home record.
We exited the party plane and soon headed for our party train, which would see us change at both Troon and Glasgow on our way back over the border into England. This saw us also get on a “party bus” as the train system was off for the weekend. I cranked up a bit of Belinda Carlisle on the old iPod, only for the irony of her surname and not for the quality of the music, although those who grew up in the 1980s will remember her “Heaven is a place on earth” tune and more impressively her nude playboy shoot. I’d always wanted to be entering Carlisle at some point in life. We stopped at Glasgow for a Scottish breakfast aye. Scottish accents reminded us of diversity as Neil and I chose cold Scottish Tennents over Coca Cola. The fried breakfast was beezer and set us up rightly for the next train, which we enjoyed a short sing song and the views of Scottish countryside. This was sightseeing, partying and football all in one. On life’s short corridor, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
A lovely Scottish train steward then came down the aisle selling alcohol. That was the cue for another beer and a loud “cheers” as the party train passed the border into England. Nobody checked our passports, and although one of us was dressed as a robber, we hadn’t smuggled any illegal goods across the border. The train seemed to be a short journey and soon we were confronted with the train station sign “CARLISLE”. Though in this strange English world of no “t” in the word water, the “s” goes unpronounced, giving it a “Carlile” sound. I still pronounce the “s”, if you were that “s” how left out would you feel. You’d be like the “d” in Pernod. It was still only 11.19 am. Four hours to kick off, some pubs to find, cherry fans to mingle with and to check in to the Travelodge, pre booked by Cornish Cherry. In fact a diverse group, this set of Cherry fanatics, polling ourselves from Switzerland, Cornwall, Northern Ireland, London and even a guy from Corfe Mullen just to remind us that this was our local team as well. If anyone looked least like a Bournemouthian, it was actually Poole’s very own Patrick. Cornish Cherry had his Cornwall fleg, I had my Northern Ireland fleg and there was Patrick pretending to eat a piece of out of date Dorset Fudge…
Once checked into the Travelodge, we waited for Shep and his cowboy hat to arrive at a wee bar on the main street. In there we played pool and found out that everyone supported Newcastle. There’s still glory hunters in football. Though where I come from Newcastle is an unknown team in the lower amateur leagues of Northern Ireland. I assumed they meant Newcastle United. On route to the stadium we found another bar and then the Rugby Club seemed to be the place for the rest of the Cherries hardcore. Over 1,000 had made the trip, it was a real party atmosphere. Palm Trees, Inflatable Sharks, Red face paints and stupid fancy dress were all in evidence as we entered Brunton Park 15 minutes before kick off. The good old terrace was packed and in good voice already. The match itself was the only reason we were here though. The next 90 minutes would decide our fate, that coupled with hearing news of Gillingham (who to be fair, looked doomed before the match), Cheltenham (who would surely have no chance against O’Driscoll’s Doncaster) and Crewe (who most expected to beat Oldham at home).
Our message was simple. Let’s win this match and make it 7 in a row (I think it was?!) and then see how the other results go. In a nerve-wracking first half we went close a few times, but sang loud and proud behind a net that we wanted to see bulge. Sadly when it did it was the second half, and Carlisle sneaked a 1-0 opener at the back post. Dejection hit all round and it seemed in some ways that a dream may just have died. We don’t go down that easy I’m afraid (unless its a naked Kylie Minogue
in the darkest corridors of Belarus) and up popped our favourite Channel Islander to make it 1-1. The place erupted. Brett Pitman had grabbed us the lifeline and suddenly we were on top. Real news and fake news kept filtering through the stands. We pretty much knew that Gillingham were down, but we were more than shocked at the Cheltenham news. Everyone had expected Doncaster to get at least a point that day. But the robins were 2-1 up. We stopped caring about the Crewe v. Oldham score when we realised all we needed was a win and Crewe were going for a Burton (who, they could even have played had Burton came up from the Conference.) OK I’ll spoil it, if youre reading you’ll know the fucking story. We didn’t get the 2-1 win. Cheltenham held on as if their balls were getting cut off and the Leeds sent Gillingham down, while still nobody cared how shit Crewe were. Suddenly a referee was blowing a whistle which meant 1-1. We all knew it was over. Nice fucking dream, we had drawn away to Carlisle on the last day of the season and it wasn’t good enough. We’d given it a shot. We were worthy of staying up anyway on points and performance and in the end the only reason we went down was from the 10 point adminstration deduction.
Tears were shed and a quick salute from Danny Hollands was enough to bring a fake smile. Anderton was also in a sombre mood, he hadn’t seen or experienced relegation before as far as we could tell. Cornish Cherry was stood at the back with bright red hair which had run in the heat and a slow red tear down his cheek told the story. With this sort of passion for football, is it any fucking wonder we love our club? An old mate from Radio Solent then popped by, it was Chris Latchem and I
hadn’t seen him since a 1-0 defeat at Millwall in 2006. Shep, myself and Cornish Cherry all gave our post match thoughts and interviews to the Radio Solent microphone for immediate broadcast. Despite being the in form team in England, we had just got relegated. We were down. Yes, we would be in Division 4 for the next season. We played like a team in the top half for the previous 10 matches. Ifs and buts were not important, and we then heard that Forest had somehow gone up, flukey
bastards.
We headed to the pub, and on the way I was stopped by the Carlisle News and Star where I posed for photos and gave an interview as Neil posed by an Elvis sign. Though by this stage Elvis was actually kind of dead and the Cherries were down with the Luton, Gillingham and Port Vale.
Whether we were depressed or not, we drank long into the night and discussion turned to how we would book yet more party planes to places such as Darlington and Morecambe. I read recently how a group of Manchester City fans got a “party fishing boat” to an away UEFA Cup match in the Faroe Islands (though the story goes that it broke down and they had to turn back and fly anyhow…) and it is these types of lunatic ideas which make supporting your football team the most passionate non-sexual hobby in the world.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. The next time you see me I’ll be dressed as some kind of red and black cartoon hero or something boarded an aeroplane to a Cherries away match in somewhere as bizarre as downtown Hartlepool. Come join our party and don’t forget yer carryout…anyone’s welcome and one’s well if any come.
Mon the wee Cherries!!
Jonny Blair (Ulster Cherry)
Jonny Blair is one of very few Northern Irish AFC Bournemouth fans and he is the current chairman of the South of England Northern Ireland Supporters Club: http://www.soenisc.com He is often spotted in the North Stand with an Ulster fleg, and used to drink lime Bacardi Breezer for breakfast.
The above article may appear in a future edition of “View From The Tree”, an inspired AFC Bournemouth fanzine.
The Feeling: Exclusive Live iTunes Gig at Air Studios, Hampstead, London, England
I worked for the very busy and very cool PR/Communications Agency ‘Bite’ in 2006 and 2007. As most people will know, working in PR (Public Relations) means long busy hours, but often some nice freebies and perks. I was very fortunate to be working on the Apple brand. Yes that’s right I used to do the UK PR for Apple, the company who started with the Macs, got even cooler with the iPod and have now taken over with the iPhone, iTunes and the like. A massive company and there I was answering the phone and doing their UK PR outreach. Every now and then Apple would have events, shows and live iTunes performances. I was lucky to be invited to quite a few of these, some of which I went to and some of which I didn’t. In my entire time working at Bite Communications and on the Apple brand, I attended one Live Exclusive iTunes gig. It was a dark cold Tuesday night in November 2006. The previous few days in work, one of my superiors, young Andrea Christopherson had got me working on attracting media to the upcoming iTunes gig by the English band “The Feeling.” At the time “The Feeling” were pretty big in the UK. Previous hits “Fill My Little World” and “Sewn” had become anthems, major radio appearers and UK Top 10 singles. I even knew the lead singers name, Dan Gillespie. We normally had a target of 10 journalists to invite and they would get free tickets, often the chance to interview the band and also the opportunity to take photos. In return we expected some coverage in newspapers, magazines etc. The gigs should have been a major selling point. They were EXCLUSIVE, limited to less than 100 people (and in the case of “The Feeling” gig, there were less than 30 in attendance). Yet for some reason the Tuesday and Thursday night timings in London seemed to clash with “bigger” gigs for the music journalists.
I had phoned and e-mailed some 40 odd journalists who worked for music magazines, radio shows or national newspapers, including celebrity journalists at some other magazines. In the end I think the journalists who attended this one were from NME, GQ, Grazia, BBC Radio and ITV. On the afternoon of the gig, we received an e-mail from the client at Apple to check if any of the Bite Apple team wanted to attend. Normally Sally Plant or Jonathan Hopkins would attend, and I also had been offerred the chance to attend the previous gig. This time I just jumped in and said I was going. I felt like a nice night out in London. So the gig was meant to begin around 7.30 pm. I left work at Bite around 6 ish and caught the District line to Hammersmith and then the Picadilly line to Lesi’s Q (my nickname for Leicester Square). I remember it was cold and dark, and it was also the same night as the James Bond – Casino Royale premiere at the Odeon in Leicester Square. I had to get out at Lesi’s Q and check it out, hoping I would meet some celebrities. I hung around for a bit and grabbed some photos of the large posters of Daniel Craig as James Bond and the red carpets, but there were peelers and security about, but no celebs yet so I was off to find Air Studios! Air Studios was at Hampstead and I remember hearing that Oasis had recorded a few songs there in the 1990s, so I was keen to see it. There were two options. One was to get out at Hampstead and dander right down the main road and the other option was to get out at Belsize Park. I chose the Belsize Park option and decided to go straight there from Lesi’s Q on the Northern Line. When I arrived at Air Studios, I noticed that it was a large Church. It was a former Church now converted into a music studio. Even in the November darkness it looked good. It was at the entrance where I met Helen Lord and Michelle Husain, the PR ladies from Apple, who were doing the welcoming. I was given a special ‘ticket’ on a card round my neck which also included a code to download the entire gig a week later, which I then did through iTunes. On entering I didn’t ask for a bar, it looked like there wasn’t one and we were ushered in, while I spoke to a few of the journalists including Leo Holden, a blond and very cheerful funny character, who just happened to be the producer for ITV’s Richard and Judy show. Soon we were in a very small room and the band “The Feeling” were due on. I had already met Paul Stewart, the drummer while waiting. “I’m the drummer” he said to me. Cool or what! I can’t remember if I shook his hand, spoke to him properly or introduced, at any rate soon he was in position and ready to bang the drums, while the band warped their way through an excellent set.
I didn’t own any “The Feeling” CDs but was mightily impressed with their tidy performance (which included a few minor cock ups, just for good measure). At one point singer Dan Gillespie said “this is gonna be available on iTunes next week and we’ve just fucked up the start of that one. Can we delete that bit and start again?” They did and the song sounded perfect on the second atempt. We were treated to two new songs, which is always a bonus. These songs took almost two years after this to be released, and were “Join With Us” and “Love It When You Call”, both are on the latest album as far as I know.
It was in a packed room, small and noisy and the music sounded great. I later downloaded the whole gig from iTunes, but have as yet to buy a ‘The Feeling’ CD, which I might do at some point, though perhaps they’re “too nice” to be rock’n’roll and I do prefer the likes of Oasis and Ash. Leo Holden was loving it – this was the only time I met him from working on Apple – though we did exchange e-mails and voicemails on other ocassions. After the gig Helen and Michelle hung around for a bit and then Leo said he was going to the pub. For some reason I didn’t join him or his friend from GMTV. I should have done as my journey back to Kent was going to be a long one anyway, so a beer would have done the trick…
Instead I popped into two different pubs on my own on the way back, one, The George was at Belsize Park, where Noel Gallagher’s abode Supernova Heights was meant to be. I hoped Noel would pop in for a pint, but he didn’t. Then I had another swift pint at Charing Cross before heading home, but it was nice to be working on the Apple brand and getting invites to exclusive events such as this. Plus if I’d wanted I could have drank beers with ‘The Feeling.’ That would have probably filled my world right up, right up, right up…
The Feeling: Exclusive Live iTunes Gig at Air Studios, Hampstead, London, England
Set list:
Intro / I Want You Now 4:22 The Feeling Live Session (iTunes Exclusive) £0.79
Helicopter 3:44 The Feeling Live Session (iTunes Exclusive) £0.79
Fill My Little World 5:00 The Feeling Live Session (iTunes Exclusive) £0.79
Rosé 4:29 The Feeling Live Session (iTunes Exclusive) £0.79
Never Be Lonely 4:51 The Feeling Live Session (iTunes Exclusive) £0.79
Sewn 5:46 The Feeling Live Session (iTunes Exclusive) £0.79
Join With Us 5:27 The Feeling Live Session (iTunes Exclusive) £0.79
Love It When You Call 5:13 The Feeling Live Session (iTunes Exclusive) £0.79
Available to download from:
http://www.apple.com/itunes/overview/
CLIP OF “HELICOPTER” FROM MY DIGITAL CAMERA:
CLIP OF “FILL MY LITTLE WORLD” FROM MY DIGITAL CAMERA:
Looking back the first English League club I actually supported was Wimbledon FC!! I remember sitting at home on my own in Marlo watching the 1988 FA Cup Final, and everyone in school supported Liverpool, Everton or Manchester United. I decided to support Wimbledon for the day as they were rank outsiders, and in fact had been a non league team just 10 years before this, after an amazing rise up the divisions. The day was something special, with a Dave Beasant penalty save and a Lawrie Sanchez header silencing the arrogant Liverpool FC fans, whose team were shite, or so it appeared! There was some irony, with Wimbledon being sponsored by the unpopular Carlsberg brand at the time, Liverpool later became majorly sponsored by Carlsberg as they became a massive club and are now one of the England’s top 6 clubs. On the other foot, Wimbledon FC stayed in the top division until the year 2000 (an incredible feat given their average home attendance was 9,000 odd (both at Plough Lane and then at Crystal Palace’s Selhurst Park). However in the year 2000, despite a final day win at Southampton, Bradford City stayed in the Premiership and Wimbledon went down. Irony again as Bradford beat Liverpool 1-0 12 years to the day that Wimbledon had done. It was a sad day for football as far as I was concerned. Most people thought the club wouldn’t survive and the 1988 FA Cup win would be condemned to the history books, which is pretty much what happenned. They are still the last club that currently don’t exist to have won the FA Cup. In 2003 the decline was complete as they sunk into the third division and were moved to Milton Keynes to become Franchise FC, MkDonalds Fried Chicken and a club who forgot their fans. Wimbledon FC started 2003 – 2004 season as a non existent team. They even played my team four times in the next few seasons, with AFC Bournemouth winning two, one a 2-2 draw and one a 0-1 defeat which cost us our play off place in 2005. The name of this new team was officially Milton Keynes Dons FC. Fuck them. They fucked Wimbledon FC over and got a free place in the football league. I detest this new team of MK Dons.
James and I with the Womble of Wimbledon!
However every cloud has a silver lining and soon the real Wimbledon FC fans formed their own club, named it AFC Wimbledon, adopted the blue and yellow home colours and white and black away colours, kept a womble as the mascot, created a similar badge and they also got to play at Kingstonian’s Stadium in South West London. Suddenly all the former Wimbledon fans had a team to support again, including my mate James who had been a lifelong Wimbledon fan. I had longed to watch them play, as they played in the lower leageues (Isthmian League, Beezer Homes League, Ryman League etc.) but still attracted 2,500 odd to their matches. I could have gone in April 2006 when the London Northern Ireland Supporters Club held a meeting there to meet Lawrie Sanchez (Northern Ireland ex player, manager and Wimbledon FA Cup hero) and witness the signing of Shaun Schofield’s new book, There’s Always One. I think AFC Bournemouth were at home that day so I didn’t go. Then in September 2006 when I had finally moved to London for the first time, James invited me to watch AFC Wimbledon for his birthday. We were off to watch the Wombles! I love football and this was bound to be a special day out.
James pre match getting the beers in at Kingsmeadow’s Stadium
I met Neil, James and Sam at Waterloo station complete with a four pack of Carling as a carryout. We then caught the train to Kingston and found that the stadium at Kingsmeadow was only about a 10 minute walk. Rather than grab a pre match pint somewhere else we headed straight to the ground to get the tickets and have a beer there. The match ticket was only like a fiver or something. Then we called into the bar at The Fans Stadium and had a pre match pint. I was wearing my Northern Ireland shirt. It had been a while since we had stood at an English football match and it was great to walk in behind the nets and stand and watch from the corner fleg in one end. Me and James also met the mascot and grabbed photo opportunities – the famous Womble of Wimbledon! I also bought a match programme. AFC Wimbledon’s opponents on the day were the relatively unknown Oxhey Jets team from Hertfordshire, they had qualified for this, a preliminary round of the FA Cup. AFC Wimbledon were big favourites. The stadium itself was massive for a club in such a low division, there were about 1,800 fans there. That was incredible for such a ‘low key’ match. Indeed I had been to a match where Northern Ireland’s two biggest clubs attracted a lower attendance!!
AFC Wimbledon’s stadium at Kingsmeadow (shared with Kingstonian)
The match itself passed by very very quickly, with AFC Wimbledon winning 3-0 and comfortably. I was very impressed with their very hardcore and physical style of play. It was as if nothing had changed and AFC Wimbledon were still living the Wimbledon dream. The original Wimbledon were called the Crazy Gang sometimes (they had some characters such as Vinnie Jones and John Fashanu) and it was fantastic to see them. James was happy the whole day, and I remember a few random moments. I met a guy called Alan, from Navar in Bangor, Northern Ireland. It turned out that Alan grew up near me and was just a few years older. Alan was hobbling on crutches and would also head to Copenhagen to watch Northern Ireland the following week, as would I! Neil also noticed a guy who was so pished he fell asleep during the first half. I took a photo of Neil in front of this guy! We also got a half time pint and then to celebrate the victory we headed to another nearby pub. I hung around in the club shop though to buy a scarf and a few bits and pieces, which I was happy to do as I support everything the club stands for and hope they get their dream someday of playing in the football league and beating MK Dons the very team which stole their identity.
Neil and a guy who fell asleep first half!
Whilst buying some stuff in the shop, the other 3 lads had gone in search of a pub and I found it quite quickly. Not only was it a pub, but it was basically an AFC Wimbledon Strip Club. Entry was free and on entering a woman came up to me totally topless and flashed her fanny at me. It was straight to the bar. So for James’s birthday we had found ourselves at a strip club. One of the girls danced to Eye of the Tiger, but the girl who caught my eye danced to Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana (a short clip of this is below). The only snag with this strip club was that the girls danced every 10 minutes and charged a quid a time per person, so we only stayed in there about an hour, even that cost 6 quid, but we did get to see 6 fannys and 12 boobies. James was happy. After this we headed back on the train and split up into the night. The day was over and what a great one as usual! I haven’t been back to see AFC Wimbledon since (James and Neil have) but they have just been promoted to the Nationwide Conference South! How amazing is that?! AFC Wimbledon are now only 2 leagues below the football league and only 3 below MK Dons. I personally cannot wait for that match.
AFC Wimbledon v. Oxhey Jets
Let’s hope the MK Dons go bankrupt and disappear, while AFC Wimbledon can continue a mammoth rise to the Premiership. I’d love that. Me and James would be there to watch it. Might call into that strip club for a pint again. AFC Wimbledon for the 2018 FA Cup. Believe it! You heard it here first. Up the Dons!!!
AFC Wimbledon’s 3-0 FA Cup win over Oxhey Jets, September 2006
Who went – James Condron, Neil Macey, Sam Cooper, Jonny Blair.
16:47:22 The Match Sponsors have named Robin Schroot at Man of the Match and they have also awarded the Oxhey goalkeeper a bottle of champagne for an outstanding performace
16:44:12 SUB: Wayne Finnie replaced Scott Curley
16:32:49 SUB: Byron Bubb replaced Wes Daly
16:30:56 Beadle replaced by Lee Grace
16:29:44 Gary Beadle (Oxhey) stretchered off
16:20:26 Oxhey Captain has been sent off for a second bookable offence
16:14:41 SUB: Richard Butler replaced Roscoe D’Sane
16:09:36 The attendance has been recorded as 1,747
16:06:51 Oxhey Jets have a goal disallowed for off-side
16:03:16 The second half has kicked off
15:47:54 HALF-TIME: AFC Wimbledon 2-0 Oxhey Jets
15:35:35 GOAL: AFC WIMBLEDON 2-0 Oxhey Jets – Steve Butler (33)
15:33:39 Oxhey goalkeeper is playing a blinder
15:08:54 GOAL: AFC WIMBLEDON 1-0 Oxhey Jets – Darren Grieves (7)
15:04:27 AFC Wimbledon on a constant attack of the Oxhey goal
15:01:24 The first half has kicked off
14:56:39 Teams out
14:38:30 The AFC Wimbledon line-up has been received
14:02:12 Welcome to this FA Cup 2nd Qualifying round tie at home to Oxhey Jets
14:01:35 A new match has been started: AFC Wimbledon v Oxhey Jets
It was a great few days out. It was a great time. It was me being with my mates all over again. The mates that had been there with me through the 1990s and early part of this century. The whole plan came together and I forever thank Michael and Gavin McClelland for their organisation skills in what was for me a 10 day adventure to celebrate mine and Michael’s birthdays, in March 2005. Michael and I had been mates since the 1980s, when we used to kick ball about in Marlo Court, Marlo Drive, Linear Park and later on real pitches while playing for various amounts of 10th Bangor BB teams (including the famous day when we played on the same pitch, at Loughgall and became Northern Ireland champions. That was 10 years ago and I haven’t played football with Michael since…). Michael and I had both spent time living in the south of England, and the dates for our birthdays fall within 4 days of each other: Michael the 26th March, mine the 30th March. I don’t recall Northern Ireland playing matches on either of our birthdays in my entire lifetime, up until 2005, when they kindly played on both of our birthdays and on away trips to England and Poland. The plans started early and the idea was for me to meet the boys in Manchester, stay there for a few nights and then head to Berlin for a few days of sightseeing before getting an Iron Curtained Party Train through Eastern Germany to Poland and the capital Warsaw. My birthday celebrations wouldn’t end there however, as on another post you’ll notice I also spent two days in London and two days in Loughborough representing Bournemouth University at the National Student TV Awards (nice post on that elsewhere…)
So Michael, Gavin and I started piecing the information together and booking the flights, trains, hotels and match tickets. I left Bournemouth on Thursday 24th March 2005 on an early morning megabus to London. As I was off work (both jobs at Tesco and Bournemouth Seafront) for a 10 day break, conveniently at the busy time of Easter, I started on the beers on the megabus. I met my mate John Johnson for lunch near Bond Street Station/Marlebone. We had food and drink in The Duke of York and The Marlebone Tup. John went back to work for the afternoon while I pub crawled and met up with him again later, where I proudly wore my Northern Ireland shirt in bars and engaged in a conversation with some American students about how there were two countries in Ireland. That day I also popped into Oxford Street’s HMV to buy 2CDs. The memories of those songs will stay with me for the entire trip. They were the Killers album Hot Fuss (of which “Smile Like You Mean It” became a personal favourite) and the Tony Christie (featuring in some way Peter Kay) single “Is This The Way To Amarillo?” (more on that tune later and throughout this blog). John and I did a pub crawl before getting a train back to his place in Kent (a house where I later would live…) to drink some snowballs and retire. I had to get up at 5 am though for my trains, tubes and buses to Manchester. It was going to be an amazing trip.
The trip to Manchester all began in the Slade Green area of Dartford on Good Friday. Of course I’m an intelligent wee fucker when I need to be, but this day I managed to forget that it was a public holiday (Good Friday) and that the train and tube service would be running slow. I waited for TWO hours at Slade Green station for my train to London’s Charing Cross, where I then had to pray for a working district line to Victoria. This of course, after having to walk from Charing Cross to embankment through rush hour people (many places in London still working on this bank holiday). My only memories of this part of the trip was talking to a Croatian railway line worker at Slade Green, who was a big football fan and wished Northern Ireland good luck, and also getting through the barrier at Embankment station without a ticket (I went through the baggage part, I was in a rush, hadn’t pre-bought an underground ticket and didn’t at the time own an Oyster Card, I was on a fucking mission!). I had already booked the 10.30 am Megabus from London Victoria to Manchester Picadilly, and was now forty five minutes away from missing it. God that would have been a nightmare. In the end I even had time to stop at Sainsbury’s for a carryout and got a seat with a table on the Megabus. I had made it and we set off for Manchester. Well me on my own, with my beer and my stereo. That afternoon I was due to meet Gavin and Michael McClelland. These would be the happiest times your life could ever enjoy. There was also the added bonus of supporting MY country playing against the country I lived in. NOne of my English mates even went. But I am and always have been a massive Northern Ireland fan. I’m a proper football fan. I support my country win lose or draw and whether its in Belarus, Manchester or Belfast doesn’t bother me. I’ll be there!
I arrived in Manchester Picadilly Bus depot around 3 pm. I sent a text message (useful things really these mobile phones…) to Gavin to find they were already in a bar in town called Teasers. However I ended up getting a taxi on my own straight to the hotel to check in and leave my bags there. The hotel was booked by Gavin and was the Hotel Camponile. I think it was in Salford, but my geography of Manchester is shite so really I have no idea. I got showered and checked in and shared Gavin’s room. I then got a bus (bit of a wait again as it was bank holiday Good Friday) from outside the Sainsbury’s nearby straight into the town centre. I’ve no idea how the fuck I found the bar they were in, but I did and soon we were sinking lagers and discussing the great times of following Northern Ireland through all the shit times. I was also surprised that Michael Beggs (Begzi) was there. Begzi had been to a few Northern Ireland matches over the years with us, but this was the first time I had seen him in at least a year. Begzi is a quiet lad, but a good mate to have. Also there was Chris from the North Coast NISC. I knew Chris through Michael and had met him a few times before, most memorably in Hunters after the Northern Ireland 3-3 draw with Austria the previous year. And then Philip was there as well. Philip was Michael and Gavin’s younger brother who was also a big NI fan and had been with us at a previous away match v. Wales in Cardiff. The atmosphere was great as we watched Barnsley win 3-0 at Luton (a match which held particular interest for myself as a Cherries fan) this was because we wanted to catch up on Luton. We had started drinking in Teasers and then moved on to Walkabout. After this we popped into Brannigans for a quick beer before heading back to hotel to get ready for the night out.
We had some food and beer at the Hotel Camponile before heading back into Manchester city centre. There were lots of Northern Ireland fans about the night before the match, but most were not dressed in team colours as the bars wouldn’t let them in. I hate this rule in life, but we got changed into evening attire and gathered in Squares Club to start the night off. A few in there and we decided we would go to Teasers again. Teasers is a club where girls walk around in bikinis and bras, but sadly not topless. We enjoyed that but wished they had their breasts on display. In there we met two ladies (whose names I forget and don’t normally) one was from Cloughy in Northern Ireland and the other was from Canada. We hung out with them for the night, I don’t think either of them had been to a football match before so we sang a few songs till them and educated them on football. Both ladies were hot and both were going to support Northern Ireland the next day, so we invited them down till the Walkabout where we planned to meet at 11 am. I think one of them had got free tickets through one of the players or IFA officials. For the evening we continued to drink shots and beers in Teasers, walked the girls home to their hotel and then got a taxi back to our hotel to kip for the big day ahead. England versus Northern Ireland at Old Trafford!
I was first up the next morning and unfortunately breakfast wasn’t included in our hotel bill, but I was up for a big fry as I knew a full day and night of drinking was ahead so I crossed the road to the Sainsbury’s which had a cafe/restaurant. In there I got a big fry up, then we all mingled and posed for photos outside the hotel. We decided to walk to the city centre, where a few of the guys from the North of England Northern Ireland Supporters Club had arranged for us all to meet outside Walkabout at Deansgate. When we arrived there were already about 200 Northern Ireland fans waiting to get in, all dressed in green and white and sporting many and various flegs. The atmosphere was building early and we all rushed in when Walkbaout (an Australia/New Zealand themed bar, which I have since termed as ‘Wankabout’) finally opened its doors. I think this was 11am. In there with us was Dave Watson and all his mates (one of which was Tim Beattie, who I would meet later and form the SOE NISC with) as well as Chris from the North Coast NISC and my mate Fish from Bangor (I haven’t actually seen Fish since, though he’s either lurking round Liverpool or Bangor somewhere). Pints were begun and it was also Michael’s birthday.
This was on top of the two girls we had met the night before and the usual crew of me, Michael, Gavin, Philip and Begzi. In there I also met Toddy and Nolers from the NoE NISC. They were handing out balloons and all sorts of green things. A few England fans came in as well, these were the first I’d seen and the banter was good, though in reality we knew they would win the match. Millionaire footballers against the likes of Whitley and Murdock, we weren’t going to stand a chance.
After a few more in Walkabout we wanted to see daylight and soak in the atmosphere before marching to Old Trafford. Northern Ireland fans were all over the square in Manchester with flegs, carry outs and dressed in green. There weren’t many England fans in sight in honesty, and all the photos I took that day prove it. It was strange seeing so many in the stadium but basically NONE in the bars. Where did they all go?? Before and after the match they were nowhere to be seen! So while we soaked in the atmosphere in the streets we had to decided whether to take a tram or a bus or indeed dander to the stadium. In the end we followed some other Northern Ireland fans onto a bus, which went pretty much direct to Old Trafford. Not a bit of wonder these fans knew what they were doing – some of them lived in Manchester. These fans turned out to be Magic (Gary Caddell), Toddy (Garreth Todd) and the North of England NISC, who we would later meet in Berlin and then Warsaw that week.
On the party bus, we sang some tunes to the bemused locals who actually didn’t get our sense of humour one bit. No seriously folks, “We’re not fucking Brazil, We’re Northern Ireland!” As it was Michael’s birthday I also had the whole bus singing “Happy Birthday” to him which was a nice gesture, but I think it embarrassed him. Then all of a sudden we got out and walked round only to see Manchester United’s Old Trafford! I had been to Old Trafford before, on a BB trip in 1996, where we got a guided tour of the stadium. We didn’t watch a match that day, but now I had a ticket in hand and a greasy burger and we were on our way into Old Trafford. We found the Northern Ireland end quickly, the green shirts were a clue. I also bought a copy of a NEW Northern Ireland fanzine called Happy Days there. It was interesting for Michael, Gavin and I to see a NEW Northern Ireland fanzine. From 1997 – 2004 we had edited, produced, printed and sold our own Northern Ireland fanzine ‘Here We Go…Again’ in the days when Northern Ireland were shite and nobody used to watch us. Now suddenly there were 6,500 Northern Ireland fans at an AWAY match. Jesus!! The home match against Yugoslavia only had 6,000 and that was only 5 years earlier. How far we’ve come, and Michael, Gavin and I could have actually made money out of selling fanzines in 2005. We did our bit when hardly anybody else gave a fuck about supporting their country. It was nice all three of us were there together in Manchester seeing 6,500 fellow Northern Ireland fans. It was real!
Once inside the stadium I had the taste for beer again, but they didn’t sell it, so I had to make do with a cola. I then put a ridiculous bet on. I spent £5 on England 0-1 Northern Ireland with Keith Gillespie scoring. It was a nice dream to have. Inside the stadium we were high up behind the nets, with some other noticeable green shirted Northern Ireland fans at other points round the stadium. It was a total party atmosphere! We knew we would lose but we bloody well enjoyed ourselves. The sour faced English fans looked up in disbelief as we danced, sang and bounced before the match had even begun. Then came the National Anthems. Proudly I stood for God Save The Queen, some English people looked confused. I tell you what, they should bloody well know we exist by now! Our National Anthem (and one which I love, respect and sing) is also God Save The Queen. It was great to sing it at Old Trafford, especially since we were louder than the English at singing their own anthem! A classic moment. Why so many English people think Ireland (as an island) is one country is beyond me. It annoys me, I have to correct at least one person in England every week. Its not Ireland, its either Northern Ireland or the Republic of Ireland (or Eire as the name states).
As the match began, England got slowly on top, but our players were holding out well against the odds. At half time we were astonishingly holding them to a 0-0 draw. Expectation in the stands was actually that we could get a point. I didn’t believe it and expected an onslaught. You wouldn’t have known it though, as we danced at half time. Memorably “Is This The Way To Amarillo?” came on the speaker system and the entire Northern Ireland support danced and sang the whole song. English fans looked in awe and disbelief. This is what supporting your country is all about. Once we had calmed down a bit, we were singing Northern Ireland songs again and the second half had begun, with England firing on all cylinders. The inevitable happenned. They scored. We made it easy for them. Chris Baird, Aaron Hughes, Colin Murdock and Tony Capaldi had a nightmare second half. Check the highlights and you’ll see how easy it looked for England. Soon we were FOUR NIL down. It was that bad. Murdock even headed one in to help them out, while Baird deflected crosses and the rest of the defence failed to clear. Not that it stopped us singing, in fact it got us singing louder, of that I’m sure!
At 4-0 up the England end went bizarrely silent. If you heard chants of “Eng il ind Eng il ind Eng il ind” it would have been the Northern Ireland fans. We sang songs for them as they were so quiet. No passion in the stands for a team on top on the pitch. We also sang “4-0 and you still don’t sing” for about 5 minutes of the second half, that is my best memory of the day out. The team that was 4-0 up still didn’t sing, and there was us, the GAWA (Green and white army) singing in full voice, lighting flares and doing the bouncy! The England fans finally did muster a song, to us singing “Are you Scotland in disguise?” That was easy, to that we responded by singing “Flower of Scotland.” “You’re supposed to be at home” and “5-4 we’re gonna win 5-4” were also sung by us right to the final whistle, where we had to admit defeat to a much better team. My mate Skin, the next day at the airport was reading a newspaper piece which described (by an English reporter) the Northern Irish end as being like a “Massive green jelly.” That was a nice touch. The English were quiet, they’d won the match, but at least they appreciated our passion. I was a proud part of that bouncing green jelly that day in what was a great day out supporting my country, despite a terrible result. But hold on, the trip to Manchester was far from over…
On the way out of the stadium I met Marshall and Bean (both South of England based NI fans) who shared in my disappointment, and I wondered if starting a supporters club in the south would be an idea. Nothing came of that just yet…We dandered home to the hotel for the night out again to celebrate Michael’s Birthday via a fish and chips dinner and pint at Harry Ramsden’s. We were sung out, sore throats and all that, but I needed a few more beers. It was to be a 10 day holiday and I wanted to enjoy every single moment of it.
We sang some more songs in the Hotel Camponile bar while I spoke with the boys from Carrickfergus and then Michael Boyd of the IFA came in and joined us for a beer. Then there were green balloons floating in mid air, some sailing to the ceiling, to which we sang “Away in a manger” ending with “Helium, Helium, Helium.” We got taxis into town again that night and danced and drank all night in Walkabout with fellow NI fans. Someone had put the sign “God’s Country” up on the roof and requested loads of Northern Irish bands like Ash and Van Morrison. Also on the dukebox was Disco 2000 by Pulp, Sweet Caroline, Is This The Way To Amarillo and Teenage Kicks. It was a great party and soon we got taxis home and it was like 5 am. As we had to be up at 7 am I didn’t bother going to sleep. I just got showered and packed and had a quick rest in the hotel. At the time I had a lovely girlfriend called Lauren and I remember dying my pubic hair green at this point, photographing my willy and pubes and sending it to her. She found it hilarious, though I washed the dye out pretty much straight afterwards. She also sent me a text message saying “I can’t believe how long it is till I see you again.” Which was nice. I did miss her that night and just got ready for the train journey onwards to Manchester Airport.
We were booked on a flight with a few other Northern Ireland fans from Manchester – Berlin. As mentioned before the idea was to spend two days in Germany before a party train to Poland. We were all up and on to the train before making it to the departure lounge some 2 hours before take off. That was great, I had my first beer in a bar which had “Sunday Morning Call” by Oasis on the MTV Video and my second beer while we waited for the plane. It was there that I met Dave Watson and Skin, and a new face. It was Dean Nutt, an Institute fan from Londonderry. Dean is a great lad and I have since met up with him every now and then at Northern Ireland home and away matches. At this point we were called to board and my short 2 day trip to Manchester was over, however I was now off to Berlin for a whole new adventure!
Bars I visited – The Duke of York, The Marlebone Tup, The Argyll Arms, The Tottenham (London), Hotel Camponile Bar, Walkabout, Teaser’s, Brannigans, Squares, Harry Ramsdens, Both Manchester Airport Bars (Manchester).
Who I hung out with – Michael McClelland, Michael Beggs, Gavin McClelland, Chris, Fish, Philip McClelland, Dave Watson and mates, one Cloughy girl, one Canada girl.
