The prodigal son has returned to New Zealand. Fresh off a massive 2 years in Europe, including one eventfull Van tour. Its time to treat NZ Again. 2008.....hold on!
I woke on the Saturday morning with an extra sping in my stride, for tonight I was in 80's soft rock heaven. The world famous Bon Jovi, with heart throb Jon up front and amature porn star Richie Sambora on lead guitar, live in Irelands biggest stadium. 80'000 sceaming fans. Funny thing is, before I got myself a cheap ticket, if you had asked me if Bon Jovi were still touring I would probably have said No. Selling out an 80,000 seat staduim, your dreaming. Well in the emortal words of W Bush, I might have 'mis-underestimated' the old Glam rockers.
After watching the Munster Rugby team deal to the dirty cheese eating surrender monkeys from Barritz in the Hieneken cup final, I caught up with my mate Troy and his 2 Australian friends, Mark and Sarah to head to the gig. Moving straight into 2nd gear, Jim Beam was the order of the afternoon. A short cab ride and then a dodgie stroll through to Croke Park, we were greated with quite an array of Jovi supporters. From the very young, to ageing old mums squeezing into there leathers from the back of the closet, not the best look but rather entertaining.
The lads really put on a good show, but I really only new about 30% of the songs, but they did play some classics. Living on a Prayer, Dead or Alive and Shot thru the Heart! Special. See the videos below.
In the end, was really cool. But only issues i had with Jon.....No 'Blaze of Glory'. I was all ready to scream that puppy out, but no dice. Bastard even teased me with 3 bloody encores...I mean honestly who does 3 of them with out playing the best song they had!!!!!!! You could feel the pain in the crowd....or maybe it was just me. If there has been a bigger travisty in concert history i'd be dam suprised. But was a good night anyway. Croke park is one hell of a ground, and look forward to getting there for some sport, or even a bit of Billy Joel in July.
Next up the Munta weekend from Hell June 9 - Gunners and Metallica.
First of all, an apology to all those ‘Elder Statesman’ fans who have been eagerly awaiting the next installment of the Statesman files. Excuses, as always, involve ramblings of poor time management and lack of energy. But in the end Ireland’s favorite kiwi’s are back on the web, so sit back for a recap of the last month or so! There is a lot to get thru folks, so be patient, and I’ve split them up to give the more ‘feeble’ of you a shot at getting through them with out loosing your place.
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. 1-0Airport. 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 somehonesty 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 DublinCastle, care of Sean. Was Brilliant. The start of the music season. Bring it on.
The Heineken Cup Semi-Final between Leinster v Munster was billed in Ireland as the biggest sports event of the year. The 2 best teams in Ireland competing for a place in the final for the European crown. Big stuff people. Tickets we being sold for over 500Euro a pop.The game was to be played at Lansdowne Rd on the Sunday 23rd April. Now Harbott and Myself have been rather critical of the standard of footy over here, but were keen to watch the game in a pub some where. Lucky Steve’s boss actually likes him, and quite amazingly handed him 2 tickets for the east terrace……excuse me!!! . This guy is a massive supporter of Leinster ….but we no complain. Below is a view from out Dans flat window
So the night before we had the game, the lads were out in town, basically trying to sell these tickets for 600 each. Hey god loves a trier…haha. No takers, which was all good. So Sunday morning comes around and the boys are ready to go. But as so often happens with Donut, it can be infectious. Dalton gets a call from friend who also has 2 spare stand tickets Dalton wanted me to add, and rightly so, that the tickets he blagged were West stand seating. Were as ours were in the terrace, which had a closer feel to the pamplona bull run than a rugby ground. But was still bloody good. …looks like 4 of the lads are being treated. We headed to the local, and were greeted by dumb founded looks, and comments such as “How the fuck did you 4 Kiwi bastards get FREE tickets to THE game”……ah we know people.
The Video above is not mine, our seats are down the far right end. But just shows the atmosphere so well.
Incase you don’t know Munster have quite possibly the most madly loyal supporters in the world. Red everywhere. They also have a huge female following, even have special womens tight fitting rugby jumpers….top work Munster. Anyway, Game was not that flash. But atmosphere was insane, Munster winning easily.Then off to the Lansdowne rd Hotel for a rather extended Sunday session with the lads. Helped that this was the first day we had worn t-shirts in Ireland….good times.
Easter weekend was a good opportunity to head out of town for a few days, so being the religious heathens we are, a booze drinking trip down to cork seemed the perfect way to celebrate Jesus’ big day (s). So we packed up on the Saturday morning (15th April) and headed down south in Stevo's postman pat van. We decided to take a leisurely approach, and do some sight seeing on the way down. We stopped at Cashel, to see the 'The Rock of Cashel', a 4th century fort looking over the city. Lovely spot, so after scouting around the ruins for an hour it was off down the road towards cork. Passing this sign below
prompted the familiar quote, "It's a long way to Tipperary", in fact it was only 20km. Unable to come up with a reason not to and hindsight rearing its painful head again, we decided we would check out the town. After settling down for some grub in one of the local pubs, and reading the lonely planets highlights of the town, which consisted of a grisly old statue and some swimming pools, it was decided that perhaps Tipperary is Ireland's most disappointing location! Ah, no bother! Probably been built up over the years by the old WW1 marching song.......can’t remember the words…but you get the gist!
I digress, so off to Cork, 2nd largest city in Ireland. Manu (Adrian Kamariera) has been living down here for a few months now, and was keen to show the boys the highlights and fast.
A quick bite at local chicken gaff, which turned out to be the only eating establishment to see our mouths all weekend (3 visit’s…..shit it was the best chicken ever tasted, sober or not!), we were out on the gas with Manu and friends. Queue a painful darts game, and god awful dancing at the local disco bar, Club Havana. Yes folks, it was as unoriginal as it sounded. But the reality of being in a bar with people, who are a full decade younger, does strange things to ones confidence….off home lads!
The nest day we had the Annual Cork beer festival on, now we told Manu that we were coming down to see him, but who can compete with a beer festival. With an all day affair of BBQ and 30 odd beers to sample, Harbott and myself new an early start was required. So after arriving at 6pm (Fashionably late folks) we missed the BBQ, we decided to make up for it by hoeing into the 9% Alcohol beer provided…..on empty stomach no less. We hung around for a while before heading off to the well known Brew Bar/Hostel. This place is run by some kiwi lads from Taranaki, good times ahead folks.
I also must add that this day was my 10,000 day on the planet, so to say I was excited was rather lame way to put it. Got a few shots care of the owner on that one, think it might be starting to catch on…..anyway we stayed in there for the rest of the night, listing to the authentic Irish band, being invited to the lock-in (Our first) and just general mayhem till we got shoved out around 4pm. The rest of the night involved another grubby feed from the chicken shop, and a rather drunken hour spent in the local internet call shop ringing any number in our cell phones. 30Euro later (that’s a lot) we had burnt bridges and abused friends, all class.Apologies again from the lads if you received a call, if not then we must have the wrong numbers for you…..we’ll find them!!!!
Anyway, the 4 hour car ride home was particularly hellish for myself, with a hangover that would kill a small buffalo, it was akin to raising from the dead which was rather appropriate given it was Easter Monday.Harbott was right as rain though, which didn’t help me at all.
In my never ending search for inane reasons to go celebrate all things, I have discovered a rather compelling argument for my case. A little hush please people, for the my big day has arrived. Forget celebrating such tired old anniversaries as the 16th, 21st or even the redundant 30th! I have found the magic number friends, perfect and rounded. Yes people on Sunday April 16th 2006, it will be my 10,000th day alive.
Now this figure, when said out aloud, will no doubt sound impressive and it is . But its the numbers behind, that excite. I've more than likely spent 3333 days worth of this sleeping, probably eating through 417 days (Hard to tell), Mondays take up well over 1430 days worth...that’s not cool. But then Weekends come in at 1860 days. Hangovers, could be put at around 600, give or take a few. I’ve been working full time since about day 6800. I could go on!
If i had to look back, day 3890 was pretty cool when i found a playboy in the Trash! 7650 was the worst hangover and so was 7657.....1 week later, so not a great learner! 5534 could well have been another top day, but can't actually remember anything from it. No bother.
So in conclusion, I'd like to thank Mum and Dad for having me, on day 1. And to all the other people over the 9999 days that I’ve met, thanks.
For those of you who want to know there big day, just follow the link. Spread the gospel people, this is a special day to celebrate!
Like any Man Utd fan, at some stage in there life they must make there pilgrimage to the Theater of Dreams (Old Trafford football ground) to pay homage to the mighty Red Devils. I planned the trip a couple of months ago with some lads from work, as tickets are as rare as J Cameron buying a round at the pub. The game against Birmingham was unfortunately on a Sunday, yet the lads decided we should really acclimatise to Manchester's conditions (the bars). So we arrived on Saturday (March 26th) ready to have a few warm ups before the big game. As luck would have it the hotel was in an area known as China town and as we all know theres nothing our little Asian buddies love more, is having a good old sing song (sorry JB I don't mean to generalize your people here). I thought to myself; Harbott this is time to shine!!! Needless to say Dr Hooks "Sexy eyes" hasn't sounded that bad since open mic night at the Deaf & DumbSchool.
Match day saw us head down early and into one of the famous Man Utd supporter bars, the Bishops Blaze. The bar was a sea of red with drunk bastards of all ages belting out Man Utd songs non stop. It was an amazing atmosphere. The only thing I could compare it too would be like coming back from a footy trip on the bus except no one knew "I wish that all the ladies".
The game had a few notable achievements. The Man U captain Gary Neville celebrated his 500th game, a new stand opening with 70,000 people packed into Old Trafford to set a new Premiership record for a crowd attendance and the new superstar of English football Wayne Rooney netted his 50th goal for the club. The game was won with ease, 3-0, but the atmosphere was something else. Football fans are in a different league compared to there other sporting counterparts in terms of crowd support. Yes they are hooligans and probably need there heads read but you can't fault there passion. After the game it was more of the same as we celebrated into the night with the locals & then an absolute mad rush to catch our 8am flight home. (Note to self: not a good idea to take the early flight after two big nights on the gas)
When we look back on our wondrous journey into the Irish country and it's way of life, one day might well stand head and shoulders above the rest. Like a 21st or great sporting victory, it'll be remembered in years to come over a pint, and more than likely embellished in many more ways. For there is no more an Irish day than the great St Patrick's Day, and it doesn't get any better than celebrating it in Dublin! So here my friends is the brief description of the day, as seen thru 2-3 rather intoxicated eyes.
9.30am -Lads all meet at Seamus and Sam's place for a top notch cooked breakfast, once again would like to thank the ladies in the kitchen for there work . Due to Extreme numbers, Dan had about 15 people at his place across town too……were quite popular don't you know. Irish music was played, well U2 was on repeat. I believe that it was as good as seeing them Live in Auckland!
10:30am - By now a few sighters have been downed and the general spirit is lifting, the lads are shaking off the effects of Thursday night and are warming up. Nothing Crazy, but we're as excited as Bondy bowling at the tail!
11:00am - Shit house, out of Beer, and were gobsmacked to learn the Offie does not open till 12:30! Lucky the team have brought a back up, with the least of Irish drinks – Pimm's (Sorry Manu...we had to drink it) and Lemonade! Looks like Beer, but it's a rather cunning illusion, becasue in reality tastes like mud! It'll do.
11:22am - Our attempt at dressing in suits and looking classy backfires somewhat, when some genius notices that the 4 Lads (Harbott, Seamus, Sam and Myself) bear striking resemblance to the Anchorman movies Channel 4 News team - (Click Here). Personally, I can't see it. But we go with it, because were all about the craic. At first the plan was for Dead Man suits, but with our Charm and good looks, we decide to take to the new title with gusto! And it proves to be the decisive edge we needed for the day. With the Tardy polyester look, meat worker shirts and god awful ties, were set to go. Even managed to keep the tags on all night, incase I needed to return in morning.
11:45 am – We hit the Streets for the Parade. The world famous St Patrick's parade through the heart of the city. After a quick pit stop in the Pub we whipped out to watch the extravaganza……..I last all of 15min of watching, after 30 marching bands, 300 screaming kids (not including the 100,000 lining the street) , 1 million coloured fish (Not sure what the connection between St Patrick and Fish was, but one can only assume he was either a fisherman or had a small fetish for the little buggars), Rain, Hail and some fairly weird looking floats. Dissapointed I find myself heading for the comfort of the Doyle's Pub, lamenting the lack off Potatoes, Leprachuns and fiddles! Met up with Dan and the whole Dublin delegation was present for the big day, special times!
12:20pm– Witnessed the first and quite surprisingly my only arrest of the day, but in true Irish style it takes the cake. Large Gardi (Police) pushing young 12yr old in handcuffs along the sidewalk…with young lads old man in Tow, and both abusing nine colours out of each other. Classic stuff! Missed what would have been the greatest Kodak moment ever…no Bother!
Harbott managed to stay watching for the whole parade (Only one), I think he got wind of the Brazilian float, and once that went past…he was Hungary for more. Turned up in the Pub with a thirst on and oddly enough a mini version of 'Guess Who', that Zany favorite family board game from the 80's! After a few games, he was in to the drink and out of the championship, couldn't pick a dirty nose.
2:00 – 4:00pm– Buy now the lads are in Full Anchorman character. All taking on their Favorite one, while claming it was the initial plan from the outset. We really had fallen on golden times at Doyle's, effectively taking the place over as we all rove around acting like complete twats, and people are actually loving it! Queue fits of laughter from Yanks, Aussies, Poms and Irish. The only exception was the contingent of Eastern Europeans, who are always the funniest of people, and life of the party. On sighting our Suits, they enquired as to why! Answer – "To take the Piss", I said to the strange looking Chec girl…..which was met with blank faces, and the same question "Why you wear Suits….."
We all came to the conclusion that in Eastern Europe these suits were probably the height of fashion…I'm looking to move there next year!
