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28 May 2003

Tour Report

It had been five long years since the mighty Carshalton had last launched a raiding party to travel to the French village of Montreuil-Bellay.  But on Thursday, 27^th May 2003 some of the finest athletes ever to drink in the Plough Pub climbed onto a coach in Church Road, Beddington with just one aim in mind – to get to a pub as soon as possible and watch the England v South Africa match.

 Someone at the coach company had clearly made a huge career-ending mistake by allocating Carshalton the official England F.A. team coach with leather seats, microwave, video system etc rather than the usual cramped minibus. The refined luxury was completely wasted on much of the party (well all of it actually apart from me!).  However, at least the older members of the party showed their maturity by barging past the rest of us, waving their bus passes, to grab the best seats and wave their fists triumphantly at us as we took our seats by the toilet.  A toilet which could easily have been mistaken for the biological weapons that the Yanks are searching for in Iraq, particularly after Dave Paterson had used it. (Probably not the last topical reference to Iraq nor Dave Paterson’s toilet habits).

And so it was that this collection of athletes and pensioners cruised down the A3 towards their first destination - Petersfield, Hampshire. The sleepy little country town didn’t know what hit it. Trevor Carpenter led the younger members of the party blindfold to the same pub that he always drank in, where the Cars joined the local clientele for the second half of the England match.  Now many of the touring party had taken part in previous tours to Montreuil-Bellay and could therefore prepare their bodies for the sleep deprivation and alcohol abuse that lay ahead.  So in the pub at Petersfield, Wiggy attempted to impart some of this knowledge to the young tour virgins - Stuart Jeffries, Ross Sinclair and James Chambers.  Whilst Sinclair and Chambers listened intently to their wise elder and better (well elder anyway), Stuart Jefferies paid little notice explaining confidently to Matt that he had been on three cricket tours before and could handle anything the French could throw at him.

Three pints of Stella later and the young Jeffries had to be carried onto the ferry where he quite literally collapsed in the bar, before being stretchered to the toilet where he spent a good part of the journey renewing his acquaintance with his dinner.  Sadly he didn’t use the toilet for the purpose it had been designed, instead preferring to wait until he’d been returned to a couch in the bar area before renewing his acquaintance with the three pints of stella artois.  During all this he managed to headbutt a table with such incredible force that any lesser man, or indeed any man with a brain, would have suffered brain damage. The young Jeffries came through unscathed.

 The boat journey proved extremely eventful with Jamie Fascione demonstrating remarkable naivety not only by consuming extraordinary quantities of alcohol but for some reason best known to himself he also decided he needed to share a toilet cubicle with Tracy Polley’s friend Becky, even though the other cubicles were free and there wasn’t anyone in the ladies toilet either.  Still at least they got to know each other pretty well!!   

Whilst the younger members of the party drank themselves into a stupor, the wise old heads Paterson, Clare and Wigham shrewdly opted to amuse themselves on the Blackjack table where they proceeded to drop a sum that would have exceeded the GDP of a small country.  Having done their brains they too then drunk themselves into a stupor.

As the ferry began to dock, the whole party finished their breakfasts and returned to the coach only to notice that one of the fatter members of the party was missing.  It will not come as a huge surprise that Carshalton’s Sleeping Beauty (??) Dave Paterson, was found snoring in the restaurant having been wide awake as the rest of the party left.  Matt dashed back to get him where upon Dave told him he would catch them up later!!  Why didn’t Matt accede to his wishes?

As is now traditional the coach stopped off mid-morning to allow the rampaging Carpenter an opportunity to drain a town’s reserves of Calvados while everyone else stretched their legs and sipped a cup of coffee.  Sure enough Wigham and Clare led Trevor to a suitable establishment where he quaffed eight Calvados eventually threatening to drink the rest of the bottle down in one, at which stage he was politely asked to leave by the waitress.  Not before Wiggy had purchased a rather fetching black and yellow hooded top and made Trevor put it on in the café, simultaneously putting everyone else off their food.  Carpenter, then looking like a cross between Eminem and a Tweenie, took it upon himself to entertain the party with some rapping, dancing and falling over before declaring for the first but not the last time, “I don’t feel very well”.

The Carpenter Show did not end there though.  When the party stopped a few hours later for another drinks break the shy retiring Trevor decided, with, it must be said, not inconsiderable assistance from the ever willing Fascione, to dive head-first into a freshly made cowpat.  No other image from the tour will last longer in the imagination than that of Trevor being hosed down by a number of the Carshalton players as well as a collection of local farmers who quite clearly had never seen anything quite like TC before.

Lunch was taken in a beautiful, scenic, French village that was largely deserted probably thanks to some medieval early warning system that had communicated the “cowpat incident” to all towns in the surrounding area.  A typical French lunch was consumed by some, and hidden under the table by others, before more beers were consumed by the gamer members of the party outside (the naïve fools).  Unbelievably tour veteran Buzz Geddes was at this stage asking for someone to perform the last rites, claiming that something he had eaten with the 17 double whiskies he’d consumed on the ferry had given him food poisoning.

Eventually the coach approached Montreuil-Bellay some 21 hours after leaving Carshalton. Old friends embraced and new introductions were made, before the thrilling draw was conducted where individuals found out whom they would be staying with.  Like some kind of computer dating service the results were remarkable, with Trevor disappearing off with the town’s alcoholic court jester.  The most relieved individual was the Frenchman who nearly hosted Tracy Polley and her pal Becky, only to have a late stay of execution when it was decided that the two lively ladies would stay in the local Bed and Breakfast.

The party split up to drop their bags off, spend some time with their French hosts before returning to watch a Vets game at the football club.  Alcohol continued to flow freely and many of the Carshalton party were starting to regret the big races they had run on the ferry.  Jamie Fascione (left) even managed to close a car door on his own head doing considerable facial damage (nothing serious then).  Had it happened at any stage during his last few months of unemployment it wouldn’t have mattered so much but he starts a new job on Monday!

Stuart Dunne even suffered the ignominy of having a bottle of water poured over him by one of the French hosts, made worse by the fact that he was so blind drunk that he couldn’t see further than his own hand let alone find the individual to exact revenge.  Still Stuart, who had by now earnt the nickname “Son of Dick” presumably because he shared Dick Stoker’s remarkable hearing, did subsequently carry out a revenge attack but unfortunately on the wrong French man who was understandably a tad miffed.  Fortunately the young James Chambers caused a diversion by getting weepy and emotional, and declaring that he was going home.  Fasc gave him directions but fortunately Carshalton’s pacy left bank had a rethink and stayed.  After a peacemaking effort that made the United Nations look like an amateur dramatics group, everyone happily sat down to more booze and food in the club house.  The next day Stuart Dunne demonstrated what a drunken state he’d been in by saying what a nice restaurant we had eaten in.

During this first evening Ross Sinclair decided to prove that the plastic knifes were unsuitable for cutting the meat by raking them down James Chambers’ arms.  Several blood transfusions and stitches later and Ross was persuaded that they weren’t altogether useless.  Wol was asked at this point if he had ever played in Europe, before the bright lad answered “Yes…..once in South Africa”.

Trevor then decided to stand up, wobble a bit and then make a “Welcoming Speech” even though we were the guests.  After plenty of “shushs” and “quiets” it soon transpired that Carpenter actually had nothing to say beyond congratulating the opposition Vets side who had played Montreuil-Bellay earlier that evening on such a fine performance.  Unfortunately the opposition had just been trounced 8 v 0 but Trevor wasn’t to know!!  He then rubbed salt in their wounds by forcing them all to drink their wine “Down In One”, while Fascione repeatedly pulled down his shorts.  It was hardly surprising that the opposition then made a swift exit while using an imaginative variety of hand signals to say goodbye to Trevor.

Remarkably several members of the party made it to the Nautilus Nightclub, which is one of the finest nightspots in the area.  OK it’s the only nightspot in the area but it ain’t bad and the bulk of the first team prepared for the next day’s match by drinking and boogeying until the early hours.  Indeed Carshalton’s own Torvill & Dean (Sinclair and Chambers) performed a podium routine that will surely have Peter Stringfellow on the phone when they return.

The French hosts, having been clearly well briefed, decided not to let their guests have an enjoyable lie-in but instead decided to wake them at sunrise and drive them to the coach for a wine tasting trip.  Not surprisingly there were a few hangovers on show although after all that booze and rich food it was rather irresponsible of the Tour guide to take us into the caves as any spark or naked flame could easily have brought a rather sudden end to what was a long and fascinating history.

The party returned to their hosts for a small lunch before the big game. Faced with a large bowl of Risotto the svelte-like Fascione piled a huge portion on his plate, asked for seconds, before finding out that this was just the first in a five course meal laid on by our hosts.  Several sausages, potatoes, pork chops,and some cheese and apple tart later and Jamie Fascione was nicely warmed up for a game of football.

Teams line up for the Montreuil-Bellay v Carshalton Cup Match

The match was in many ways quite extraordinary.  Sinclair played in goal, Chambers, HMS Paterson, Thoroughgood and Jeffries took up defensive positions, Wiggy and Fasc formed the central midfield partnership with Stuart Dunne and Danny on the wings and the talented, pacy duo of Ryan Polley and Simon Clare formed an attacking pairing.  After just two minutes Montreuil-Bellay took the lead with a free kick from JC that bounced four times before rolling slowly into the corner of the net beyond Ross’s dive.  Naturally, everyone shouted at him.  It was then backs to the wall as the French stroked the ball around and fell over whenever a Carshalton player went near them, to be swiftly followed by the referee’s whistle as he sympathetically awarded a free-kick.  During the first twenty minutes Carshalton almost lost it completely as a series of appalling decisions by the linesman and referee, blatant diving by the French, and dreadful football by us, led to chance after chance for the hosts.  However, a series of excellent saves by Sinclair, the bulk of Paterson, and scything challenges by Thoroughgood ensured the score remained 1-0.

At one stage Matt was hacked down and we shouted to the bench for water. The subs thought we had shouted “Warm up” and we were treated to the sight of Buzz, Wol and Adrian running up and down the touchline.  Not so much roll on/roll off subs as rolly polly subs.

Then out of nothing a loose pass by their right back fell at Polley’s feet and he provided a lethal finish. Minutes later and Polley again burst down the left squared it across the six-yard box to Clare who smashed it into the net. It was an unbelievable turnaround but it was short-lived as one of the Montreuil-Bellay players performed a scene from Swan Lake in the penalty area and won a penalty which was easily converted.

Then came the major turning point in the game when Dave Paterson went up for a header and his considerable bulk came down on his knee doing some serious damage.  A stretcher was called for and their manager rather optimistically suggested six of us should attempt to lift Dave to the sidelines.  Dave proved surprisingly light as the six stretcher bearers jogged to the side only to realise Dave was till prostrate on the pitch having gone straight through the canvas.  After hiring an industrial crane, the game continued to half time with Chairman Adrian Turner joining the fray. 

2 v 2 at half time and Matty’s team talk simply consisted of “when Dick Stoker gets over here let’s all go back onto the pitch” as Dick some sixty feet away ambled towards us. To our disbelief Stoker heard everything Matt said and pointed to his ears saying “these aren’t f***ing ornaments you know!!”  

The second half was a quite brilliant transformation.  Clare doing what he does best, took a dramatic tumble in the area and was awarded a penalty and Wigwam slammed it home.  Minutes later and “Diplomat” Dunne scored one of the best goals ever seen in these Anglo-French encounters with a delightful chip into the top right hand corner of the net.  Ten minutes later and Fascione chasing a ball he would never have reached threw himself with great gusto in the area, won a penalty and left a huge crater in the six-yard box.  Matty fired home and it was 5 v 2 and the French heads dropped.  At this stage Wol shouted something along the lines of “that’s for all the help in Iraq” but as we find him tricky to understand there was little chance of his words being translated.  Young Danny then scored direct from a corner to make it 6 v 2 and Carshalton had retained the cup.   Man of the match probably went to Dick Stoker for a remarkable linesman’s performance, though John Thoroughgood bellied his age, weight and lack of ability to put in a sterling performance.

Bragging rights secured, Carshalton got back to what they collectively do best which is drink excessively and speak poor French.  The party moved on to a village hall for a post match drinks and food although Jamie Fasc decided to stop for a bit of sightseeing in a field and remind himself what he’d eaten for lunch. Umm red wine mixed with rice…lovely!!

Then followed a disco where Dave Paterson supposedly in agony with damaged ligaments danced the night away requesting for such favourites as “The Twist” and “Jump Around”. The young guns, Chambers, Sinclair and Jeffries fell asleep, and Trevor Carpenter, who hadn’t turned up until after the match, continued drinking and dancing.  Dick Stoker by this stage permanently holding his own personal bottle of wine and glass, though rarely paying for it, amused the locals with his ears.

Tracey Polley and Dick Stoker were two of the last standing and went back to one of the host’s houses where they were offered a 40 year old Brandy which Tracey duly downed in one to be met by a horrified expression on the French man’s face.  It would have been wonderful to have been a fly on the wall to hear the drunken conversation that ensued between Dick and Tracey. 

At 3.30pm a knackered Stuart Jeffries was asked if he wanted to leave by his lunatic host Lauren.  He happily accepted only to find himself driven to the Nautilus Nightclub.  Refusing to join his French host in the club, Stu tried to sleep in the car, only to be thwarted by an ovefriendly car park security guard who kept banging on the window and giving him the thumbs-up to check he was alright!!!

Trevor’s host was so inebriated that he actually asked Trevor to drive them home.  You could forgive the two policeman who had smelt the overpowering fumes emanating from the car window for celebrating a certain bust after pulling the car over.  However, as luck would have it a sensible and sober women had stepped in to take the drunken duo home and passed the breathalyser test.  Many wondered what reading would have come up had Trevor been breathalysed though it is likely the device would have exploded.

The Sunday game was unique in that the French referee played half an hour for the first half, and then with score at 1-1, played an 80 minute second half until Montreuil-Bellay scored, then said there were three minutes to go and blew up thirty seconds later.  It would have been yet another convincing victory for Carshalton had everyone not tried to give Wol (pictured left at pace in super slowmo) a goal, and had Wol not proved completely incompetent at striking a football.  The game also marked a return to football after a 3 year absence for Buzz who played for 90 minutes, got the ball twice, failed to find touch with either pass, and was unable to deliver his trademark “hoof” to the disappointment of his fans. Still, at least he just about fit into the football shirt.

Adrian’s appearance was confined to three minutes in which he kicked the ball once off the park and substituted himself citing cramp as the reason.  John Thoroughgood was not much better coming on for ten minutes, chasing one through ball and leaving the field with heat stroke.  Indeed at one stage we thought we had been clever by putting twelve players on the field without them noticing.  It was only after the game that they told us that they had played the whole match with twelve and at one stage had thirteen on the pitch!  We had been outcheated!!

One of the two coach drivers, Nick played for us and displayed genuine qualities far removed from those of the infamous coach driver from two trips ago.  The latter character had claimed to play football for Birmingham, ice hockey for the Streatham Redskins, and had wiped out an Irish village with the SAS.  He then turned out to be useless at football and not much more adept at coach driving.

The other senior coach driver told Ryan Polley that he’d been impressed and was going to have a word with David Platt about giving him a run in the England Under 21s.  Ryan took it seriously until the driver then told Wol that he would also recommend him as one of their quota of older players.

Needless to say Trevor arrived just in time for lunch meaning that he had not seen a single ball kicked in anger on the football tour. More alcohol followed, with a formal reception where the deputy mayor made a speech, and the Carshalton players admired photos of previous touring parties.  More wine, a barbeque, and it was on to a Wine Factory where the party were treated to some fine wine tasting.  But then as if we’d forgotten him, Trevor Carpenter stole the show once again.  For the first time in his life Trevor decided to mix water with his alcohol by diving into the nearby river.  Naturally it was unintentional, and unsurprisingly Jamie Fascione played a key role, but the image of a dripping, semi-naked Trevor climbing out of the river covered in mud will be a difficult one to forget.  Just as the mud and leaves that Trevor then left in the hosts toilet will prove difficult to remove.

The coup de grace of the trip was the traditional Sunday Night Dinner where for the first time in the Tour’s history, the French President’s rather dull, turgid speech proved different class to our President’s.  John Thoroughgood’s use of silent pauses was exemplary.  Unfortunately the silent pauses were where the laughter was supposed to be.  Adrian Turner then attempted to divert attention from Thoroughgood’s appalling performance by sharing his memories of the trip, in a slow, deliberate delivery that made Mogodon look like a stimulant.

But then to the rescue came Danny Glenister, with his impression of Prince Ruprecht from the film “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels”.  For those not familiar with the film, Danny decided to show his appreciation for these fine, witty speeches by thumping the table uncontrollably at all the wrong moments.  Then having been asked to calm down by Matt Wigham, Danny decided to accompany the local accordion player by standing up and hammering a wine bottle with a fork.  When the accordion player had finished his set, Danny accepted the applause that he quite clearly thought was aimed at his clanking efforts before collapsing under the table.  Danny was then carried prostrate out of the room.

Through all this, David Paterson had slept with his head on the table (pictured above) from the first course through to the last, through the speeches, through the rousing applause for the French President’s speech, through the polite clapping for John and Adrian’s efforts, through the accordion player and Danny’s duet.  Then suddenly he stood up shouted “ou est le mental” and ran out of the hall. Translated literally this means “where is the mental”.  No one really knows what Dave was trying to say but we suspect he missed “institution” off the end of the sentence and was simply trying to find his way home.

The dinner then disintegrated into chaos with any smokers being required to smoke outside.  As 90% of the French and 80% of the English were smokers, there followed a kind of street party with no lighting, while tumbleweed blew through the silent and empty village hall.  Ross Sinclair decided that Danny should be taken home and started to walk him back.  As it was 8 kilometres back to Montreuil-Bellay it probably wasn’t the best help Danny has ever received but fortunately his host picked them up and took them home.

It was during the drunken anarchy that took place that Wol kindly described Matt’s host’s teeth as “a row of condemned East End houses after the war”.  I think everyone would agree that Wol was a welcome addition to the tour party though he has since been conscripted onto the Committee so he deserves everything he gets!

The following morning everyone met at the coach at 8.30am. That is, everyone bar one member of the party. You guessed it, Dave Paterson.  After several frantic phone calls from his host saying he couldn’t wake him from a deep stupor, Dave was eventually woken up at 9am and the first thing he said as he raised his head from his dribble stained pillow was “can I have some breakfast”!!! 

The coach trip back was long, long and long.  After ten hours of driving we finally reached Calais where our England Coach drew considerable attention.  One onlooker told me that he thought we were the “England Under 17s” before he saw Wol, Dave, Fasc and Thoroughgood get off the bus and he realised it was the “Over 17 Stones”.  Another said he’d seen Fasc and thought either Gazza is still playing or that ain’t England.

After a short ferry ride the Carshalton Party wound their way back to Beddington and the Tour was over. It had been an eventful and entertaining weekend and full credit should go to Matt Wigham who’s considerable chivvying and phoning ensured that the Tour had even taken place.  This relationship with Montreuil-Bellay has lasted 25 years and it is essential that it keeps going for many more.

Simon Clare