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TownFish Posted on 26/09/2012 20:38
5/52 Colchester @ home by STFC Glos Branch

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I know you've all been waiting with baited breath (or bad breath in Riddel's case) for this one so here goes:

Colchester United 12/08/2000 by STFC Gloucester Branch

Welcome to this, the first Legendary Branch Report of the new season. It's great to be back amongst old friends, catching up on all the gossip from the close season, such as the pedigree of Leroy's latest conquest, the non-existence of Charles Charlie Riddel's holiday shags and up to date measurements of the BHN's hand span. I have decided to standardise the format of this season's reports, into two sections - Football Stuff and Interesting Stuff. So here goes. Sit back, relax but most of all enjoy......and remember folks, keep 'em peeled!

Football Stuff
Town started brightly, Alexander had a goal disallowed because the referee's wife wouldn't have sex with him on Friday night probably, Invincible had a fantastic run which culminated in a weak shot which was turned round the post and Grazioli hit the bar. Colchester didn't look too bad to be fair, but our back four were exactly like they were last season (i.e. XXXXXX), the new players were all right but no one really stood out, and basically the side failed to turn the early momentum into goals. Second half wasn't great, Invincible was anonymous and maybe is not match fit, Robinson was as slow and XXXXXX as ever and some black CUFC player should have been sent off. Final result 0-0. Disappointed would sum it up in one word, although there were some encouraging signs early on. At least we got a point, which is exactly one point more than the Scum.

Interesting Stuff
Saturday's story really begins on Friday evening. After a hard days work, your humble narrator retired to the local for two pints. A £20 loan from the predictably hirsute GL2 and ten pints later, Yours truly staggered home, managing to stuff a curry down my gullet before climbing the wooden hill to Bedfordshire. Luvverly.
Upon waking early Saturday morning, the realisation that I had an almighty headache slowly dawned, which filled me with joy as you can well imagine. A search for Anadin Extra’s, paracetemols or whatever proved fruitless so I resigned myself to the prospect of starting the new season with a hangover. At least it was going to be a nice day. Before leaving the house I had three poo’s, each considerably runnier than the last, and was sick once. Imagine my surprise when the contents of my vomit suggested that I had eaten not curry the night before but sweet and sour vegetables! The journey into Glorious Gloucester, Glevum to the Romans, was uneventful. A bargain 99p breakfast was consumed with a little difficulty in one of the city’s finest eateries, and the four of us (Myself, GL2, Milky and SW) managed to get the train on time, a major feat of precision planning I’m sure you all agree. Our little group’s average waistline increased sharply with the arrival of Diet to swell our ranks, the not-so-slim chap joining us at a little backwater in deepest Gloucestershire. Shortly afterwards, following an incredibly detailed and descriptive group discussion on the finer points of vomit and the art of vomiting, I waved goodbye to my bargain 99p breakfast as it escaped down the toilet. Congratulations must go to Great Western Trains for the foresight to include a handy rail for hungover passengers to grab while being sick. Bravo. Feeling a little better, but still with a monster headache, we finally reached our destination – Swindon, home of The County Ground, Billie "Because we want to" Piper, and the Honda Civic. We endeavoured to find a quiet public house somewhere, away from the throngs (not thongs, Gumbo!) of noisy football fans, however we ended up in Yates’s. Catching up with all the old faces was a real pleasure, until I caught sight of a certain C A Riddel. XXXXXX all pleasurable about that face I can tell you!!! After struggling to drink an admittedly very gay 1 pint in over an hour, it was off to our spiritual home, the mighty CGH, hostelry of legends. Here we again met a lot of old friends (seems like last season was years ago), and caught up on stories of summer shenanigans while in the back garden, which was bathed in golden sunshine. Eventually 3 o’clockhundredhours struck, and the Town End beckoned. After happily paying my £10 (second bargain of the day but no danger of yakking this one up) and taking my seat, some men came out of a hole in the North Stand and ran around kicking a ball and sometimes, to my delight, each other. This ensued for the next hour and three quarters, albeit with a break in the middle, a marked increase on the duration of last season’s games which lasted anywhere between 20 and 45 minutes. As the final whistle went, I turned to see that GL2 was still there, and I knew that today was indeed a special day. Hallelujah. A quick browse around the club shop was followed by a swift return to the good old CGH, though not before a XXXXXXy hot dog (2 bleeding quid! Could have had 2 bargain breakfasts for that) was consumed and thankfully not immediately puked up. Feeling brave now that I had some food in my cavernous stomach, I ventured to the bar and bought myself a pint of lager that was swiftly despatched, to be followed by a great deal more. A slight yak after four or five pints did not deter me from my mission to get drunk, a goal which was easily within reach upon leaving the CGH, by which time incidentally the poo count for the day had risen to 4. However, our departure could wait, as first we would be entertained by the witty repartee of one C A Riddel, entertaining the assembled masses with pearls of wisdom such as "I’m going to sit here and look at the BHN’s fanny". Priceless.
And so into town, where groups of revellers were drinking, smoking and generally having a larf, and where wine, women and song were in plentiful abundance. Details are a little sketchy from this point on, which is known to scientists as the FairlyXXXXXXedbutstillincontrolofallbodilyfunctions period. However, the evening’s festivities passed off peacefully and the Gloucester contingent soon bade their farewells to their Wiltshire friends and began the return leg of their journey.
Passing the spot where I had done my best ever sick, following the West Ham friendly, everyone was enthralled as once again I went through the episode step by step, not missing out a single glorious detail. The train station then echoed to the songs of yesteryear, the acoustics sounding splendid as the group marched to platform 1. Upon boarding the train imagine our surprise to meet two Birmingham City supporting friends, on the home straight of their epic journey to the capital of England’s green and pleasant land. Upon arriving in our historic city, GL2 and SW headed home, while myself and Milky decided to continue drinking – a brave decision seeing as Milky was going to work early in the morning and then to Bristol to see Gloucestershire (La la la) beat Lancashire to reach a historic fourth Lords final in a row. The remainder of the evening passed in a drunken blur, and eventually we found ourselves in a taxi home, accompanied by two members of the travelling community. Gulp. Thankfully we both arrived back in our ‘hood in one piece, and I made the strange when sober but perfectly sensible when XXXXXXed decision that I was going to stay at Milky’s house. Why I should choose to kip on someone’s sofa without a duvet when I have a perfectly comfortable, warm double bed at home is a mystery. Anyway, my gracious host retired to bed while I stayed up, drinking bottles of Biere D’Or and Strongbow, watching the telly, reading old copies of The Adver (well, trying to read, my eyes were having difficulty focusing), and stumbling round trying to find some cigarettes. I sort of made my mind up to walk two miles to the garage, a ridiculous idea at four in the morning, before eventually finding a packet of Lambert & Butler (Ugh!), waking Milky up in the process. I eventually turned the telly off at exactly 4.47 o’clockhundredhoursXXXXXXmeitstimeigotsomesleep am, and the opening day of the season finally came to an end.

Postscript:
Woke up at 10am, feeling rough as XXXXXX. Milky never made it to the cricket, but it was rained off anyway. GL2 sent me a text message saying "Leroy’s a XXXXXX", as if I didn’t know already! Today’s latest score: No poo’s and no sick. Superb. I can’t believe that this file has been recovered, as you probably gather from my earlier message I thought I’d lost the lot. Result!
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PetsWinPrizes Posted on 03/10/2012 16:18
5/52 Colchester @ home by STFC Glos Branch

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The best yet.
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Leroy_ Posted on 04/10/2012 18:43
5/52 Colchester @ home by STFC Glos Branch

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I can remember being a XXXXXX at the cricket. Then again, what else is there to do at the cricket? Watch cricket? No XXXXXX thanks.
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