@rocko wear the tfk tshirt from 4 years ago.
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I want to wish my brethren, @Julio_Geordio, @briantinnion and @Rocko the kindest of regards and don’t doubt for a minute they will do us proud over the weekend.
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I’m really looking forward to my trip. In less than 24 hours I will be discussing the implications of brexit with international businessman and future dear friend @briantinnion while sampling the brioche in the Lyon airport executive lounge, the 2 of us with our jerseys in our briefcases
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What age of a man is TSSR? Does he have responsibilities at home?
He sounds like a stone cold legend!!!
Correct. I was once on a stag in Europe and a fella grabbed his and the stags passports an threw them into a large river so that " we wil have a good challenge and story from your stag"
If you end up doing this please log it in the fitness thread.
I won’t be making that mistake again, we were nearly crushed to death in the metro trying to get on. I’ll be going out there early and finding a spot for a pint within easy stroll of the stadium
See above
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You have to head early… Myself and Phil were outside the ground sipping on cans a good hour before kickoff - took about 20mins to get there…
We went for going 3 hours before kick off, but it was just carnage. All the Micks trying to get on in the same spot.
Jesus… Go to the source of the tram, pal. You’ll mug em all off.
How many Irish fans likely to be in stadium and what’s capacity?
5,000 out of 50,000 but the micks will buy them up over there I’d say. Pierre will happily take a nice profit on his ticket and save himself for the quarters I’d imagine
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Caught in the same crush at the metro station. It was great craic for a while but got worrying very quickly.
Ya I got out of there sharpish enough, wasn’t safe at all. Walked about 5 stops down and got on there no hassle
TSRR strikes me as the sort of fella who was mad as a bag of hammers when younger, but now would most likely be dead had he not met the missus. Opportunities such as this are where he opens the pressure valve and returns to his youth.
Micks buying power will be invaluable when it comes to the QF the brits probably have their bank cards switched off by then
Vignette 1: Saturday June 11
I wake at 6:45am in the Waddell household in Dublin. Excitement is low. The arrangement according to lapsed forum member Trapattoni (called “The Drain” for the purposes of this piece) is that Mammy will give us a lift to Dublin Airport for 9am to meet “The Tosser” (a lovely chap, actually, who merely shares the same surname as Veronica Guerin’s assailant) and “The Roaster” ahead of our 11:10am flight to Amsterdam.
Despite a needless, passive aggressive 8am cigarette in the back garden slowing things down, I am packed and ready to hit the road by 8:30am. That’s not good enough for The Drain who thinks I should have been ready by 8:29am. If I had been ready by 8:29am, that still wouldn’t have been good enough for him. Or 8:28 am. Or 7:28am, had I been ready at that time.
The Drain proceeds to fly into a psychopathic rage and tries to physically assault me. The physical momentum of his rage takes him out the front door, which he slams shut in my face. I then close the door, leaving him outside the house. Poor Mammy is screaming as I refuse to open the door in order for seven or eight minutes in order to protect the bone structure of my head from being rearranged, leaving “The Drain” shouting obscenities at me from outside.
I eventually open the door, stand aside to let the Drain into the house and exit the front door to sit on the garden wall to have a cigarette. Neighbours are nudging their net curtains to try and get a look at the commotion. My conscience is clear.
The Drain eventually calms down from his sudden burst of US school shooter-type rage into a more contained, menopausal state of anger.
Eventually both myself and the Drain are persuaded by Mammy to enter her car at 8:50pm where we maintain a Cold War-like detente, making snide insults at each other, while Mammy threatens to drive to the nearest Garda station.
We arrive at 9:07am. And for what.
The Drain, like the sociopath he is, immediately changes into his “nice as pie” persona and goes off to meet The Tosser and The Roaster. Shaken, not being able to change personas in real life as quickly as I can on the INTERNET and not wanting to talk to anybody, I stand on my own outside the departures hall and smoke cigarettes for half an hour, where I see seven grown men unpack and shamelessly put on full leprechaun costumes in full view of everybody. I mope around the airside on my own for a further hour and only board the plane at the last minute. I will remain alone until arriving at the accommodation in Amsterdam.
A rip-roaring start.
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This should be good…
Vignette 2
The Drain is afraid of being blown up by our friends in the Islamic State. Very afraid. He’s spent the last six months talking about the possibility of being blown up, and despite being constantly ridiculed about this, maintains his ultra-serious, walking bomb victim stance.
The new, nice as pie Drain spends his first two hours in Amsterdam being nice as pie to the Tosser and the Roaster but also spends it talking about being blown up. The Tosser (who I will now refer to as “the Soundboard”, one because he’s a sound lad, two because he’s by now bored of the Drain’s draining talk about being blown up by ISIS, and three because he’s an excellent soundboard off which to bounce ideas about interesting things to do and interesting things to see) remarks that “shite is coming out of your (the Drain’s) mouth like water from a garden hose”.
The Soundboard, the Roaster and myself are in agreement that saying the word or acronym “ISIS” loudly on public transport or in bars is a bad idea.
And thus it occurs that ISIS are never mentioned again on the trip, and only referred to by their new code name of “Garden Hose”.
Any time a black person is spotted by a Joe.ie-reading Irish fan, they’ll sing about the Toure brothers.
And any time a potential snackbar is spotted on public transport by one of our group, they will be referred to jokingly (at least by myself) as a “Garden Hose”. @Juhniallio will be all over that.