As promised yesterday, once again, a long but true story. Most have heard it before but for newer members........ 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, 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 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”.
Than you for your kind comments. The reason why I posted this and my story yesterday is to show how supporting our team is fun, even during depressing times such as the last few minutes of yesterday's game. I'm sure we've all got funny stories about our experiences as supporters. It's a game, not life and death, there'll be some more good times very soon and there'll also be some more bad times. That cycle will repeat forever, until football ceases to exist. Enjoy the ride.
Aye I'm sure you are. Guest 42 was only here for a fleeting few months, but she thoroughly confused the BBS at the time. You will remember that people viewing the BBS but not registered were listed as Guest 1, Guest 2 etc. She registered as Guest 42 to confuse that system. I'll leave you to work out who's idea it was...
I thought it was a brilliant idea and you've got to admit, old mate, it certainly caused confusion with some on here.
I’ve a similar tale, I was renting a flat about a mile away from the ex wife. If been to a funeral and wake and was very very drunk. After making it home to bed I woke for a pee at what I later learned was 3am. Turning right instead of left I found myself in the main entrance foyer area and not the loo as the flat door shut behind me. despite my best efforts there was no way that door was opening so in my addled state I thought I’d walk down to the ex wife’s in my pants, yes luckily when I’d crashed in bed I was still wearing them. It was still a fair walk through the streets of the village. I got to the ex wife’s and banged on her door like billyo, she wondered what the hell was happening as I shoved past her mumbling I needed her sofa, the misery didn’t quite end there as the following day I still had to go to the landlords to acquire a key, he was quite understanding luckily! Oh and there was that time I was walking around Manchester city centre at 4am in my pants too. I really should give up the booze.
I've just spent a good ten minutes wondering what the hell happened yesterday and how I managed to miss it, whatever it was.
