fataddick
Well-known member
I've got a loaf, thanks. Only difference is, mine is white and bleeds the Queen's blood, yours is wholemeal and smells of sandals. And you, moosh (is that how you spell it - mush, mooch? f*** it, whatever), are starting to f***ing annoy me. And you don't want to see me annoyed, it ain't pretty and it ain't fun, like the shot put. You reckon we deserved what them Hartlepool lads did to us? Like hell we did. What the hell do you mean "don't put yourself in those situations"? For your information, since you seem to know so much about what we did or didn't do, we didn't always go looking for trouble. Well, we did, but often we got trouble before the part of the trip where we'd started looking for it. Or sometimes, after we'd stopped looking for it. I bet you've never had a few beers on the way to a game? Something as simple as taking a slash (ie a urinate not a kniving, no knives was always the rule) could get your head kicked in.
Here's just one example: On our way up to a game at Leeds in '84 or '85, a carload of lads from the Sidcup Sofa Bed Boys (so called 'cause a few of our bigboys had sofa beds, which were the height of casual style back then and pretty expensive as they'd only just been invented, the name let other firms know we weren't pikeys, we could afford to get our shirts washed if they got claret - blood not wine, dig54, you nonce - on them in a dust-up). Me, Moggers, Julian Drakeford and Racist Steve. None of us amongst the bigboys, but certainly no trainees either, all strictly middle management in the firm.
We'd been knocking back tins of Skol (it's a beer, dig54, that drink mummy says you're not allowed) all the way up there. We were getting near their ground and Moggers desperately needed a piss. Usually we'd tell him to go out of the window, but there was a few OB sniffing around and you don't want to get lifted for something silly before you've had the chance of some toe to toe. We pulled up outside a pub, no Elland Road Bastard Brigade spotters that we recognised outside it, so we assumed it was a scarfer pub. Moggers rushes in to use the loo.
Ninety seconds later, he comes running out, blood everywhere, one of his ears hanging off, some wanker had even vomited down the front of his shirt. Behind him is half the pub, waving pool cues, table mats, some psycho even had a telescope (believe me, they f***ing hurt). We dragged what was left of Moggers into the car and the Leeds firm managed to take out a brake light, half the back window and our Baby On Board sign as we sped off. [NB We didn't really have a baby, dig54, before you start calling Social Services. That sign had got us out of a fair few scrapes in the past. For a while we even used to keep a baby-sized doll under the seat and Racist Steve learned how to do a pretty authentic crying noise.] My point is, were we looking for a trouble? No. Not at that point, anyway. Moggers got a proper shoeing, and for what? Just for wanting to use a pub's loo. You reckon he deserved it for putting himself in that "situation", dig54, you mug?
Later in the season, when we were arranging the rematch, one of our bigboys heard back from one of the Bastard Brigade's about what happened. Moggers was very, very drunk and it seems he'd accidentally gone to the toilet on some elderly scarfer in the pub. In Moggers' defence, Leeds had an all-white kit that season, and the bloke was sitting down in the full kiboosh (shirt, shorts, socks), so he would look a bit like a toilet if you were too drunk to know where you were. I suppose it didn't help that Moggers was apparently singing "dirty Nothern bastards" at the top of his voice, but we always sing that on our way to games North of 52.8 Latitude (and Leicester) to get us in the mood.
I can understand it if he'd done a shit on the guy, as that shows a lack of respect and would deserve a slap or two, but to give him a full-on pasting for what was just a piss take is OTT. The Leeds lads are animals, dig52, and if you've been to games up there without getting into any grief then you lived a charmed life. Well done, Cinderella. Now do one, you muppet.
Last edited:
