Posted by : Phil McLoughlin
Date : 05/01/10
Subject : Away Day Blues

Some years ago my friend, Pete, and I travelled from Manchester to a match at Birmingham City’s ground, St. Andrews. Not being known for our navigational skills we got lost, as usual the M6 wasn’t a problem, but after that it was guesswork.

I was driving and we followed the signs as far as we could, then spotted a car with a Birmingham scarf fluttering from the window so we abandoned the signs and followed it all the way to a Tesco Supermarket! So we turned round and tried again. Eventually, we admitted that we were lost and I pulled in at a bus stop and told Pete to ask someone the way. A young lad answered "I’m going to the match as well, I’m from Manchester and I’m at University here. Give us a lift and I’ll get you there." This was our lucky day.

Pete jumped out, which surprised me, and started to mess about with the front passenger seat. "What are you doing, mate?" I asked. Pete continued to struggle and swear and mutter under his breath and then said "Your seats broken, it won’t go forward." It was a couple of seconds before I realised the problem. My car had four doors, Pete’s car had only two and he was confused. Before I could explain this to him, he grabbed our guide by the scruff of the neck and started to force him over the back. He landed in the gap between the front and rear seats with a bit of a thud and Pete climbed back in. I looked at him and said “What did you do that for?” He said “your seat’ is knackered, I had to get him over it.” I replied “You should have just opened the back door, mate.” Pete then remembered that we were in my car, not his and he got very embarrassed. I decided to drive away quickly before someone in the bus queue phoned the Police to report a kidnapping.

Further along the road, Pete took his shame out on the poor, trembling wreck in the back seat. This lad probably thought that he’d been picked up by two psychopaths and was wishing that he’d listened to his mum’s advice about taking lifts from strangers. "It’s your fault", shouted Pete. "If you’d just told us where the ground was instead of asking for a lift, this wouldn’t have happened, would it?

I was by now struggling to drive as I was laughing so much, which didn’t do a lot to help Pete’s mood. We drove for about a mile, me laughing, Pete fuming, matey in the back seat praying and then we stopped in traffic at some lights. All of a sudden, the back door opened, the youngster jumped out, shouted "Go straight on at the lights, left at the roundabout and follow the road" and he ran away as fast as his legs would carry him. Pete and I looked at each other and I said "Well, he managed to find the back door."

Posted by : Phil McLoughlin
Date : 05/01/10
Subject : Somewhere over the rainbow

One sunny Saturday afternoon a while ago Manchester City played Sheffield United at Bramall Lane and my mate and I made the trip over. We stopped for refreshment at a pub not far from the ground and, as I wasn’t driving, I had a few scoops.

We stood behind the goal listening to the pre-match music, one track of which was Roy Castle’s version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I reckoned that it would be a great idea to join in and entertain my fellow supporters. My mate tried to talk me out of it but, being half-cut, nothing was going to stop me. I tunelessly belted the song out and near the end turned to face the City fans for the final pub-singer flourish.

As I yelled "Somewhere, hey, way up over that h-rainbow-a" the players were warming up at our end and a ball flew off the pitch, hit me on the back of the head and knocked me to my knees. There was a huge cheer from the fans and then one wag shouted "See? Even the players think you’re a kn*b. Now shut the f*** up!". And there ended my singing career.

Posted by : Phil McLoughlin
Date : 05/01/10
Subject : Somewhere over the rainbow

One sunny Saturday afternoon a while ago Manchester City played Sheffield United at Bramall Lane and my mate and I made the trip over. We stopped for refreshment at a pub not far from the ground and, as I wasn’t driving, I had a few scoops.

We stood behind the goal listening to the pre-match music, one track of which was Roy Castle’s version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I reckoned that it would be a great idea to join in and entertain my fellow supporters. My mate tried to talk me out of it but, being half-cut, nothing was going to stop me. I tunelessly belted the song out and near the end turned to face the City fans for the final pub-singer flourish.

As I yelled "Somewhere, hey, way up over that h-rainbow-a" the players were warming up at our end and a ball flew off the pitch, hit me on the back of the head and knocked me to my knees. There was a huge cheer from the fans and then one wag shouted "See? Even the players think you’re a kn*b. Now shut the f*** up!". And there ended my singing career.

Posted by : Kippax in my Blood
Date : 05/01/10
Subject : Auntie Sue

Not a matchday story but kinda funny. My auntie Sue used to be the manager at lakeland in Altrincham. She was serving a customer, who was signing the receipt for his goods.

Auntie sue: "Oooh you've got the same name as that footballer Colin Bell".! Customer " I am that footballer ".... Nice one auntie sue....

Posted by : Buffalo Bill
Date : 12/01/10
Subject : "Medic!"

Remember when Robbie Fowler played for Manchester City? It wasn’t a high point of his career, but I can recall his first goal in detail. We played Birmingham at home on a lovely sunny day and I was in my usual seat in the East Stand.

Eventually Fowler managed to put away a chance and I jumped up to celebrate. As soon as I left my seat I knew something was wrong. I felt dizzy, I felt sick, my vision went blurry and I fainted. I heard my wife screaming and my mate caught me as I went down like Didier Drogba after a soft tackle.

I came round after a second or two and knew that I was fine, it was just that I’d had nothing to eat and it was a warm day, but that didn’t matter to the St. John’s Ambulance boys. Oh, no, they saw a chance for a bit of glory and rushed in with the stewards to administer some tender care. They cleared the row and made everyone stand in the aisle, forced me to lie down along the seats and questioned me while trying to loosen my clothing and shove smelling salts up my nose. "Had I been drinking?" "No, I just fainted, mate, I’m ok." "Had I been taking drugs?" "No, mate, I just fainted." "Was I on medication?" "No, mate, I JUST FAINTED, I’M OK!"

I know they were only doing their job, but I was now the object of attention for everyone in the ground. People were stood up, pointing and straining to see and my dizziness had turned to embarrassment. I watched Football First that evening in fear of seeing myself stretched out like a heart-attack victim with little men scurrying around me playing at being doctors.

Posted by : Buffalo Bill
Date : 12/01/10
Subject : F*ck me its Freezing!

I've only been on telly once and it was when Manchester City played at Goodison Park in Howard Kendall's first game in charge of City. It was a terrible, boring game on a bitter day in December and Everton battered us even though the game finished 0-0.

I watched Match of the Day that night and as the camera panned over the Park End, there I was, with my arms folded and a big, cold, red nose. As the camera passed I yawned really deeply, turned to my mate and quite clearly said "F** me, I'm freezing!". Not a great TV moment, but still more entertaining than Strictly Come Dancing.