Stung in London

Joe Ward, he of the large posterior and thinning crop, invited Harbott and myself over for a nice relaxing weekend to watch his rugby team (London Wasps) play London Irish in the English premiership. The idea of returning to London after last years fateful trip caused much anguish with the Elder Statesman, but undaunted we pressed on with our plans. We decided, in our infinite wisdom, that we would head over on the Saturday afternoon on the cheap flight. And then back at midday on the Monday (Bank Holiday), which ultimately provided our final downfall.

So off to Airport, and flight delayed. 1-0 Airport. Harbott heads into duty free to buy some Whiskey for the flight, to calm our nerves. Except, its more like Duty without the free….same price as normal, infact more. 2-0 to the Airport. End up most of the way thru bottle on subsequent flight, and 1.5 hour train ride to Wards house. This travel time came as a surprise to the both of us, because we thought ‘the Wards’ actually lived close to the city center, when on closer inspection (Actual ride in train) we discovered Ealing Common (apt name) was not within a fuckin country mile of the fact. No bother!

We arrived rather happy, and after some initial catch up with the Girls, we headed out to meet up with Duncan Wilson, Leyton and Paul Booth……South Kensington anyone!!! Another 1 hour tube ride followed, only to be greeted with London’s drunkest kiwis, well it was special. An early afternoon session had put pay to any sensible conversation, so the lads did there talking via Tequila shots and some Vodka concoction. (Note Ambulance in back ground...not sure why)

Queue Wilson attempting to shake hands with Harbott and duChats via the medium of a clenched fist to the mouth….nice work champ. A quick DDT out the front of the bar put pay to Wilson’s night, and we headed off for greener pastures…..or Putney! 3 Lads tried too get into a nightclub, but the Alabama porch monkey on the door decided we weren’t the clientele they were looking for….what 3 steaming drunk kiwi’s!!! Blah off home to bed.

So the next day Amanda, Harbott and myself headed to High Wycombe for Joe’s game. Had really cool seats in the players area, the ground only seats about 12,000 meaning it was really intimate…cosy infact. The game turned out to be amazing with 14 tries scored, 3 of those before I had sat down with our beer. Unfortunately Joe and the twins weren’t able to engineer a win and the Wasps went down 37-56, but the score line was not a true reflection of the game. So the night was off to a good start.

We then waited for Ward to scrub up, and managed to meet his coach Ian McGeechan after Harbott dispensed some honesty calls on old Geech, he managed to secure Joe another 10min game time for next week. Poor Ward was at this stage pinker than a slapped arse, as his two mates embarrassed him from pillar to post. Next up this young girl comes up to Ward for the obligatory signature, he grabs pen and signs the page (his face to be more precise) and I casually ask the young lass who he is…….she looks him dead in the face, shrugs shoulders and finally points to his now defaced player profile! Brilliant.

To be honest it’s just jealousy from the Lads, but fuckin worth it. Ricky Flutey was also there waving the NZ/Maori flag aloft, with his combination of number ones and jandals, to mickey bro.Anyway before leaving the ground we stopped by the Souvenir store for the Joe Ward No. 16 jumper, but we must have just missed out because there were none on the racks..Buggar.

We piled into cab’s back to London, 40min cab ride, to the Wards house for a pitstop. Downed a few more and then headed out into Fulham, the Stags head I believe, meeting up with Sandy. Now it’s at this point things were getting messy. Car sickness is a ghastly issue, but when its not your car it makes for interesting state of affairs, and this was such a scenario. Young Harbott, having endured 60min worth of cab ride combined with the London cabbie BO, need to vent. Tactics were required if we were to stay on time, so Ward and myself engaged the driver in some witty repartee while Harbott sent his last meal onto the roads of London…well he thought!

We managed to get to the pub, and upon exit of the cab, we were all greeted with the site of the door completely covered in spew…..a crowd had gathered and were also enjoying the humor of it. Took me a good 10min to recover from it.Harbott recons the Cabbie must have made fuck all due to his new ‘Client Repellant Door’….to funny.

We all hit the Stags head, well like a Stag and were right into it. A few of the Girls from home were there, Katie, Cindy and Sandy. Hadn’t seen Sands for at least 1 year, so was great catching up with her. We then headed to another bar down the road, but at this stage we were all well and truly cooked. So off home. Where Ward decided to play Chef!

See the video below for drunk’d antics of Joe and myself.

The weekend had been problem free till this next point. London = Travel. We kind of got the distance and time needed to get to Airport completely incorrect. Infact we weren’t even fuckin close to catching our 12:00pm plane. Thinking leaving Wards with 2.5 hrs to spare would be plenty, it suddenly dawned on us ‘we was wrong’. So after a frightfully boring 4 hour wait we were on a plane home. Airports 3 – Elder Statesman – 0

God I hate airports.

We did have great Donut when returning home, got to see the Kaiser Chiefs live at Dublin Castle, care of Sean. Was Brilliant. The start of the music season. Bring it on.