I was at the England Russia game. We had a frustrating night on the pitch, but not off...
Not gonna lie, I wasn't there for the disco. So when the Ruskies decided to run our lads I was c**k-a-hoop. I wasn't in the section where the charge took place but managed to clamber over the walkway, plough my way through the fleeing English scarfers, and wade straight into the stinking slavs.
Didn't know what to expect from their boys; dusters, blades? It's all the same to me.
First lad to come at me was a wiry little punk with a penchant for kung fu kicks. Soppy shite looked like he was really enjoying himself. I stuck the nut on him and threw him over my back to clear a path.
Next up was some plonker built like a nightclub bouncer, well he got bounced alright - about three rows down thanks to a crushing right hand. G'night son.
Another lad shaped like he fancied a go but, having just seen his pal get one arrowed, thought better of it. The look in his eye screamed 'Ivana go home'.
At this point it became clear to Vlad's lads that they'd met their match. I stuck my arms out by my sides and felt the rush of victory - it was a proud moment to be representing my country like that.
I sauntered back to the England lads and received a lot of slaps on the back: 'well done mate', said a Chelsea Pensioner, 'you've got some balls you have'. That was reward enough for me, but he insisted on unpinning one of his medals and sticking it on my burberry bumbag. We saluted each other and belted out the national anthem one more time.
A night that will stick in my mind forever.:)
Fair play.
That had me laughing out loud.