The football weekend experience

So i've needed some new shizzle to blog about and last week provided me an opportunity to cure your boredom for a bit longer. 3 Cities, 2 Countries, 2 football matches and more importantly, the worst two nights sleep ever.

So Friday, the old man and Owen turn up at my digs to begin this voyage and we set off for destination #1, Preston of all places. The reason for visiting De-Preston (depression ;)) was because saturday's destination was the shitty version of blackpool, which should convey how truly shit it was, of course i mean Morecambe (famous only for a comedian who grew up there, but we'll get onto that later). Which is just down the road, and Owen had a friend who could put us up for the night. So we arrive and it's my duty to pump up the two airbeds as my dad is about as able at pumping as a blind man acting as a witness to a crime. Then we head off to the pubs before our dinner, pubs is a recurring theme of this weekend as my dad is an avid real ale collector. Following this mini crawl we head to a bar/restaurant for dinner, which took 50 minutes to arrive which is a jooooke. But upon arrival it was the best, tastiest, amazing meal ever. It was chicken, cheese and chorizo sausage on mash with a red wine gravy, it was like my pallett and stomach had just been fellated by the international blow job queen of '99 (gives her a bit more experience you see). The we trekked off home for a highly uncomfortable night on an airbed which had half deflated, so was like sleeping on the floor. Oh not to mention it rained on us all friday night and saturday morning. The following morning we topped ourselves up with the signature football weekend Fat Bastard Breakfast courtesy of J.D Wetherspoon himself.

MMMMMM Premature death from heart attack

Part 2: Morecambe
It's almost worth skipping this part due to the lack of anything in Morecambe. After just drying off from the mornings rain in preston we went on another pub crawl which consisted of walking about half a mile down the bay/sea front and then about mile and a half up, it was a neverending row of shit shops and closed down amusement shops and arcades, gets real business this time ;). Most notably was some western frontier theme park that closed down about ten years, which has nothing new on the site, just some derelict grounds blocked by a dirty gate, which could be passed as actually being from the western era of history. after missioning it back near to the ground, after posing with the statue of Eric Morecambe, see below, of this lovely sunny day it started to rain heavily, so by the time of reaching the ground we were totally soaked again. The match was Morecambe Vs Lincoln City, which as i go to uni there i have a small bit of support for them.. But i've seen them twice at home this season, and they've not scored once, their strikers couldnt hit a cow's arse with a banjo.. so i wasn't holding out for much in this match. My predictions were coming true after 6 minutes when Morecambe scored. At half time, Tilson (Lincoln manager) must have hurt his ankle after kicking his team's arses into gear at half time, as they came out and scored twice in the second half and won 2 - 1.

Morecambe and (un)Wise

Part 3 - Glasgow
I've been to Glasgow many times for football, not thought much of the city. When thinking about it I like it, but when i get there its not the same... 'Glasgow.. The city that's wonderful in theory, but shit in real life' that should be on their signs. After spending half an hour going up and down the same road looking for our travellodge (sparing no costs on this trip, luxury all the way) we pulled in and headed out again. We went to the 'Clockwork Orange'

But there was no 'Ultra Violence' or 'In Out' in this instance, its just the name of the Glasgow underground train service, which i never knew existed. Its just an orange train going round on a circle line, hence the clockwork orange.. After visiting a few pubs and not understanding any of the locals, hard enough to understand at the best of times, let alone after a whiskey or ten, we headed back to the travellodge for shit nights sleep number 2. I'd noticed that when my dad had been drinking he tended to snore so my idea was to go to sleep before him, so i went to sleep only to wake up every so often in the night to what sounded like a lawn mower chewing up a small screaming child. The worst part of the night was at about 6AM where Dad was in full homocidal lawn mower mode when owen, Dad's friend, decided snoring would be fun as well.. so with a homocidal lawn mower and a wood chipper chewing on a small raccoon i had resigned myself to no sleep. In comes fat bastard breakfast number two of the weekend.. however it was Scotland so instead of sausages there were Lorn sausages, which were square and tasted like a beef grill steak, and instead of hash browns were potato bread which was amazing. We headed to Paisley after that which is a total dive, vomit on the ground, broken streets and windows and one particularly pleasing bit of scenery was a dead cat in the road with its eye burst out of its socket.. yum.. So we watched Celtic beat St Mirren 1 - 0 and headed off back Daaan Saaaf to where people speak half normally.. not after stopping at yet another wetherspoons for dinner, where dad left his bag, which he's had to consequently head back and fetch today.

So yeh, that was my weekend.. what about yours?

In a whiles, Paedophiles