Let me just say, before I start, I'm no shrinking violet and I understand that the dynamics on away match days involve a few beers, banter & a certain "edge" to the day. I also understand that there's a bit of an undercurrent that has developed amongst us for the London games, the perception being too many cockney accents and tourists amongst our away support etc.
However, the complete tool that me and my mrs encountered on Saturday deserves calling out for the knob he was on the day. Apologies, if this is long-winded but I'm going to tell it as is it.
So, we arrived late, Row 16 Upper Shed, having underestimated the travel time from Twickenham (where our hotel was - we DON'T live there) to the ground and spent 90 mins in a cab travelling 9 miles. Schoolboy error. When we get to our seat there was someone standing in it, leaving us one space between us. So, I asked if he'd mind moving to his own seat so I could watch the match from the seat I'd paid £30 for. So, this muppets first comment was "what time do you call this you cockney twat?". Swiftly followed by some comment about the City coat my "woman" of a Mrs was wearing. So, a bit taken aback, I asked him again to move, at which point he put his face in mine and said "fucking make me, I'll take your fucking head off". At this point, too everyone's credit around me, he was told in no uncertain terms to do one. This was the flash point for him to start throwing pretty pathetic punches at everyone in his vicinity. His lad got involved, as did the two others with him. The "older" lads behind us kept them all at arms length whilst the pushing and shoving went on. A kid to our left ended up on the floor between the seats as the dickheads hurled insults and gave it the big one to fellow Blues. Eventually, they were removed by the stewards but carried on giving it large all the way down to the exits below us. A younger lad amongst them had a parting shot at my Mrs, aggressively pushed her having asked her "what the fuck are you looking at woman?". Nice touch, knobhead.
I was born in Sale, raised in Altrincham, and moved to Leicester for work some 35 years ago, at 19 years old. In those days we used to hitch-hike our way around the country, getting into all sorts of scrapes on the way, but loved every minute of it, coz it's City. OK, so my "Manc" accent has probably been "Southernised" over the years living down here, but that shouldn't make a blind bit of difference to anyone. Every match is an away match for us Seasoncard holding ex-pat Mancs, who end up living the length and breadth of the country for whatever reason. Me and the Mrs were in Kharkiv, we were in Lyon, we go wherever we can to support my boyhood club. We meet up with the Brooklands lads, my mates from Sale, even a few lads off here. We enjoy the away days for what they are. A few sherberts, great company, catching up with old friends. We don't need to get tanked up, snort the shit you obviously do and we don't pick fights with FELLOW BLUES.
So, my message to the dicks who took exception to us on Saturday, is come to the South Stand Level 1 on Saturday, we'll be in 116, as we always are. Lets have a beer at half-time, you can meet all MY mates and we'll have a discussion about who's the bigger Manc. Maybe have a game of cock conkers to see who's got the bigger balls. Either way, after our discussion, maybe you'll grow up, learn to respect the Blues around you and actually support the team on away days. Otherwise, one day, you never know, it might just come back and bite you on your scabby arses..
Thanks for listening.
