RRF!

I love my crew :-)

Yes we do…. <3

FCUM paintjob

With only one side still to be completed, here is a sneak preview of my mate Kev’s scooter with its new FCUM paintjob.  Fellow RRFer Spuddy is a bit too prominent for my liking, but you can’t have it all! ;-)

Matlock Town 2 - 1 FC United of Manchester:

This would be my last chance to see FC in the flesh this season, with other commitments getting in the way of being able to make the last game of the season, or indeed any potential playoff appearance.  As luck would have it however, Matlock away not only promised good pubs, but scenery used in the film Dead Man’s Shoes and a coach trip organised by the Oddies/A Fine Lung.

I arrived Friday, allowing a mooch around town.  The sun was shining and fortunately this continued for the early part of Saturday too, despite promise of hail.  The bus journey took us through the sort of rolling hills you normally only witness in Postman Pat, and it was accompanied by the odd song and a bit of dipping into the new issue of A Fine Lung.  „Brian Deane and Tony Agana, bibbedy bobbedy boo…“ became an early, and irritating, earworm.

Despite satnav troubles, we eventually made it to Matlock Baths, about five minutes up the road from Matlock itself.  Our pub of choice happened to be running a mini beer festival, so whilst one or two of the gents in our party got themselves distracted by a hen party decked out in hiking gear, most of us got stuck into chips with mushy peas, and various porters and ales.

The RRF took a table on the 1st floor of the pub by the window, and soon settled into a familiar conversation of poor jokes and poorer taste (the definition of spurious anyone?).  A notable addition was a discussion about the BSFC and whether this is a good thing, or just a collection of football fans getting taken round the corner by expensive sock manufacturers.  No one dared show what they were wearing with their trainers…

I was also brought up to speed with the worrying decrease in quality of songs at FC.  It was suggested that the crowd had recently even been known to sing „We’re FC United and we get behind the team“ to the tune of yellow submarine.  This scandalous rumour simply cant be true.  Such depths would surely never be plumbed!  It did however set a new challenge for the afternoon of trying to create the shittest, most embarassing football song possible.  The suggestions that followed in whirl of creativity both worried me (in terms of how bad a song we could create) and had my ribs hurting from laughing so much.  We settled on the idea of repeatedly singing „FC away, FC away, FC away! FC! Away!“ to the Grandstand themetune whilst pumping our fists up and down in the sort of manner that is only acceptable to football fans who like that Sheffield Wednesday/England band.  Naturally the stretched drum sound used in the themetune was also incorporated.  We felt we’d made the worst song ever, but in no time all of us were singing it regardless with gusto like the dogs  that we are.

With such fine conversation, time naturally flew, and before long we had to head for the ground.  I spent the first half in the bar and catching up with friends.  In the second half, we ventured out into the terrace behind the goal which was in good voice.  Fortunately, I didnt hear „we’re FC United and we get behind the team“.  The game finished 2-1 to Matlock and it’s fair to say we were awful.  Nevertheless being able to drink on a busy terrace, in a ground in a deep valley, overlooked by a castle, meant it wasnt all bad.

On the way home we decided to stop at another pub in Stanton in Peak.  Judging by the steep, single track road, with stone walls on either side, I didnt reckon the coach would be able to make it. Yet in the lowest gear, and with the coach tipping precariously over the edge of steep hills, we made it and were rewarded with cheese butties and TH serendading us all on a guitar that was propped up near the fireplace.

The lack of an accessible microphone on the way back meant that any attempts at mass-singalongs or jokes were impossible.  With Rob, our usual compere, only being able to put in a brief cameo appearance in the pub on the way to a wedding, this was quite fitting.  It was left therefore to the RRF to entertain themselves.  The „Brian Deane and Tony Agana“ song came back out, this time with the names inexplicably swapped out with „Arthur Scargill & Uri Gagarin“.  After a while it was noted that the „what have you got“ part of the song reminded us all of Rob Brydon doing Al Pacino .By the time the song finished up as „Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, bibbedy bobbedy boo, put em together and HWHADDA YER GAAT, Heat and the Godfather pt 2“, everyone else seemed quite relieved that the journey was ending.

A trip to the Port Street Beer House, followed up my northern soul and trojan reggae played by some pepped up loon of a DJ, completed a great day out.

Spotted in town

“Making Friends Not Millionaires”

New shopper

Whether for a carrying cans of beer to an away match, or just lugging the shopping home, my new bag.  Inspired by Cornish’s vastly superior Rot-Weiss Essen DIY stencil bag.

Spotted in town…

well out and about actually.  FC United away, FC United away, FC United awayyyyyyyy…. :o)

Rushall Olympic (Away):

A nice long away trip by our own meagre standards was the promise and, my, did it deliver!  8am and the rather depleted RRF met up at Picadilly for our first train of the day, down to Wolverhampton.  Despite the slow train over to Rushall, we made our first pub (The Boathouse) by mid-morning and got stuck into the darts and pool.  The police turned up a bit later for a nose around, but the bar stayed open and it was only when the only cask ale (Partridges very own Directors) ran out that we took a wander on.  That was a bit of luck as it happened, as the next pub  was even better, with a big range of ales and, bizarrely, no bar!  You just sort of wandered in and stood where the bar should be, whilst the barmaid served from the taps on the wall.  After a few leisurely drinks in the sunshine outside, it was time for kick-off so we made our way over the bridge to the ground.

The match itself was nothing to write home about.  An uneven pitch and very agricultural football from both sides.  It was unlikely there were going to be many goals in it, and low and behold, Rushall got the break through a defensive cock-up.  We had a goal disallowed, and had probably deserved a draw, but it was not to be.  As always though the result is only half the matter with football, and a good time was had under the covered stand, mostly catching up with friends.

After the match we headed for the Black Country Arms in nearby Walsall.  This place had about 12 different ales on cask, was full of reds and so we weren’t keen to move on.  As certain beers ran out, the sign, listing what was on each pump, even clattered down like a departures board at the train station!

The journey home eventually had to be made.  We had an hour to spare though, waiting for our connection back to Manchester, so we decided to stop for one in Birmingham too.  We opted for my old favourite, The Victoria, a vaguely “in” pub and hangout with Wyre Valley beer on offer.  We weren’t disappointed.  No bouncers and a good pint served in proper pint glasses with handles!

A quick stop to stock up on spirits, and we caught our train back home.  Then it was off out into the night, with good soul music at the Thirsty Scholar.

“Do you know what a shit barometer is?” :-)

Course You Can Malcolm, limited edition IPA.

Spotted here.