As promised, my 2008 Wembley memory, for newer members. Apologies to those who've heard it before..... It was the FA cup semi-final weekend in April 2008. A group of us travelled down by train on the Saturday, including Fired, Hicksy, Gally, Loko and several others from the BBS and London Tykes. Another BBS member at the time, Guest 42 (who also happened to be my ex-wife), was with us and was booked into the same cheap hotel as me. This would later turn out to be a huge stroke of luck. Anyway, we travelled down by train on Saturday, and consumed copious quantities of various beverages on the way. This meant we were not as attentive as usual as we checked into our supposedly en-suite rooms. We just barged in, dumped our bags, quick splash and spray, and out again, to Loko's pub (at that time) somewhere near Chelsea – which was rather ironic as we'd of course disposed of them in the previous round. There was much mirth and merriment, and finally a taxi home about midnight, back to the hotel. Into the room, strip, crash, fast asleep. I need to point out at this stage that I don't wear anything at night. Not a stitch. Fast forward to about 5 in the morning, need a pee. Heave myself out of bed to the loo, not noticing that despite the description of the room as “en-suite”, the loo was actually outside my room door in a small foyer with a further door to the corridor. By now you've worked out that during the course of this manoeuvre I heard that horrible little “click” as the door quietly closed behind me. Yes, I'd locked myself out of my room. Bollok naked. A voice in my head said “you badly need a plan B here”. My first attempt at plan B was to try climbing out of the loo window and back into the adjacent bedroom window, which I'd conveniently opened the night before. However, on looking out, it was snowing heavily (honest!) and there was a 20 foot drop onto a glass roof. I considered the implications of someone spotting a naked man clambering about half way up a hotel wall in a blizzard and decided against it. I would have either impaled myself on some glass in a re-enactment of the famous final scene from Ghost, or I would have got locked up. Either way I would have missed the match. Next thought was to break the door down. I gave it a few tentative prods and fiddled around with the knob. I only had one tool on me, and despite its usefulness in certain circumstances it was of no help whatsoever in this situation. Once again, I abandoned this solution as I could easily have ended up missing the match by being charged with criminal damage. Some of you may be thinking, why didn't he go to reception and asked to be let in? At this stage it's important to point out that the hotel had no reception. Well, it did, but it was across the road in a nearby hotel. I decided against running naked across Sussex Gardens in Bayswater, in a blizzard in the middle of the night. Eventually, the final solution dawned on me. I ripped the net curtain off the loo window and wrapped myself in it. Net curtains are commonly considered to be see-through, but trust me, if you wind one round you enough times it does actually become opaque. Now this is where the presence of my ex-wife, Guest 42, in another room comes in handy. I ran up 3 floors to her room and started banging on the door. Now put yourself in her position – she's fast asleep in a strange hotel at about 5am. Someone starts banging on her door, and at this stage she's no idea who it is. Eventually she finds out it's her ex-husband. She's no idea what he wants, but she's not under any circumstances letting him in. Meanwhile, he's stood petrified outside in the corridor, naked apart from a multi-layered net curtain around his waist, pleading to be let in. Finally she relented, let me in, laughed her t**s off and made a nice cup of tea. After what seemed like an age she eventually got a spare key from the reception across the road and fetched my clothes, and the problem was solved. I've no idea what I'd have done if Guest 42 had not had been in the same hotel. Of course, we all know what happened in the match, but a female BBS member (I can't reveal her name as I'd probably get Fired) later coined the famous line “If only Kayode was as good as Stahlrost at putting it in the net”.
You've always had a shapely pair of legs, old mate! <img src ="http://www.thefashionpolice.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/antonio-marras-lace-skirt.jpg">
Never apologise for telling that story. That must be about the third time I've read it, but it never gets old.
Thank you. I think it's about time I told my story about a Turkish girl and Neil Redfearn following the Reds' 2-2 draw at Luton in February 1993. It's another belter, but will take time to prepare..............
I love that. Superb post and thanks for sharing the memory. Football is at the root of pretty much everything. comedy is just as important in my head and as I get older I tend to conjure up some great cartoon images when people tell me stories. With your story they came fast and vivid! My favourite line is "either way I would have missed the match" True comedy.....in the depth of your panic and embarrassment your main thought was "under no circumstances must I miss the match" I'm not meaning to blow smoke up your arris but that line is comedy gold.
I'm not sure 8 years on you can beat it. However, the same crew will be knocking around That London, we're all just looking a bit older and more jaded. One of the party may even be allowed in the pub after 9pm this time 'round! Just booked our trains & hotel. COYR
Breaking news: I've now received official permission to book our trip, and I understand Guest 42 is working on her pass out!
"That London" Classic. Like the barnsley lorry driver delivering timber into the capital and on Oxford street he pulls up and winds down the window and says to a passer by "ey up me owd......is this London?" And the passer by says "yes" and the driver says "rate then , wiz tha want this wood."
