A Greek, two Germans, an Italian, a Mexican, an Arab and a Pakistani decide to go on a road trip. Sounds like the starting of a very long joke. It was.
Twas what the ‘English’ refer to as a giggle and a laugh.
We decided to go and catch a football match at old Trafford, which is in the middle of the country in Manchester, which is in the middle of nowhere. With the entire country trying to reach the same place, it was bumper to bumper, on a road that would make a tightrope walker shit himself. And with the eco mentalists trying to make cars smaller and smaller, we were all sitting in each other’s laps while the driver was sitting on the engine. I was sitting next to a newly formed couple with the guy trying to impress his girl by pointing to random cars on the road and then giving a knowing wink and a smirk. The Mexican( or was he Spanish) dude was trying to show his Italian girl all the cars he had back home. He was pointing out German cars to the girl from the land of Ferrari. Brain damage is what happens to you when you drink worms in your spirits. Or wear a blanket with a hole in the middle.
Me, I tried to drown out this tempting voice in my head telling me to strangle the mexican with his seatbelt, by turning to my trusty itouch. Which has become a good friend on my various excursions from Oxford. Love it when I can drown out the world and come and go as I please.
We set off with a German behind the wheel, and the Greek as his copilot, with the arab and the paki tucked away at the back so the cops wont stop us and left oxford at 2: 30. We had to reach there before 7, park the car somewhere and try and get to the stadium and our seats. Everything went without a hitch, except for the fact that in our excitement we forgot where we parked. Which was in the middle of nowhere again. To reiterate my point, even the currency changed into something out of mad max. part 2. We bought some stuff and the change I got was a never seen before guy on a 5 pound note. Now here was a dilemma, do you act all cool and pocket the note nonchalantly or do you clobber the shopkeeper for passing a counterfeit note, assuming you to be drunk with the intellectual capacity of a snail. Waitaminute, does that mean I look English?
Which brings me to a my next point, how a race of proper, civilised, stiff upper lipped respectable people can become uncouth, fowl smelling degenerates, incapable of hearing or speech with just a few pints of fermented barley. As the game progressed, the public became more inebriated, the songs started making less sense and the Arab was called a shoe bomber. I would have been more careful chaps, you don’t want old Trafford in smithereens.
With the long and tiring road trip (400 miles) to the middle of nowhere, the stupid Mexican jabbering in my ear, the long and cold walk to and from the car and less than 12 hours to make it all happen.
It was all forgotten when Rooney popped that header in the back of the net. Glory Glory Man-united - Glory Glory United.
