Montreuil-Bellay Tour Report 1996

Gullibles’ Travels

The motley crew left Beddington Park at 7pm on the Thursday night. Top coach for our tour; only the England coach, complete with sign "The England Football Team". As we passed Guildford on the A3, Melanie Cobb, girlfriend of first team primadonna Simon Clare, came out with our first quote "Are we in Kent yet?" First stop Petersfield for a "loosener". Within the hour it had turned into 3 pints, giving Matt just enough time to be chatted up by the local heroin addict - must be his boyish good looks!

On to Portsmouth and the ferry. Jason Lock was an early front runner in the Pisshead of the Tour competition. He was more than a bit tiddly as we embarked. He wasn’t to sleep throughout the night as he embarked on a drinking binge with Paul Bourke (casualty), Matt Wigham, Tom Stoker, Simon Clare (casualty) and another group of lads. After a couple of beers it was time the more experienced amongst us for some kip. Despite howls of derision I was quite sure what I was doing - I made the mistake of not sleeping last time - never again. I was only away for 5 hours, but in that time Jason had managed to get absolutely plastered, wander all over the boat, get stuck in the lifts and lose his passport. You can’t take your eyes of the youngsters for a second these days!

 Friday Evening

Following a civic reception from the mayor and billeting with our hosts it was off to a hotel for our dinner. I met Jason Lock briefly as he staggered head first straight into a flower bed and a pond as if they weren’t there. He didn’t make the dinner and crashed out in his host’s car. Pisshead of the Tour looked assured. By the end of the evening we had managed to convince the French not only that Jason was our star player but also that he was gay. It didn’t take much convincing.

Knotty crashed out face down in his dinner. Full marks to his girlfriend who continued to enjoy herself and made no concessions to her slumbering partner apart from a couple of prods in the ribs. After the dinner the DJ set up his system and we looked forward to a bit of a boogie. However, Paul Peagham had other ideas. Without any warning, he grabbed the mike and demanded silence from everyone. Carshalton officials and players looked as bemused as our hosts. For fully 10 minutes Paul attempted to get some quiet, at one stage threatening to abort his performance unless he got complete silence. If we had known what was to follow we would have rioted. Having finally got everyone to shut up, Paul turned to the DJ and asked him if he could play Edelweiss!!! Been to many discos recently, Paul? The next 5 minutes were the most excruciating of the tour. Paul’s tortuous rendition had them waving white hankies at every table. Fair play to the man. He had the guts to stand up uninvited in front of a large audience of strangers and make a prat of himself. Mind you, with a voice like his I might have been tempted to try dancing instead. A couple of hours later we realised why Paul had not tried dancing - shirt off and trousers round his ankles, he was not exactly John Travolta - more like Nelly the Elephant. When bending down to leisurely pull his kegs up, it was spotted by the girls that perhaps Paul had been more nervous than he appeared!

The Saturday Matches

After a generous 3 hours sleep I was woken and driven to our meeting point at the vineyards. A couple of stories from the previous night were exchanged. For instance, Matt chundering over his hosts’ ornamental garden bench from his bedroom window during the night. To make matters worse he remembered an example of his attempts to ruin the Wigham good name and destroy Anglo-French relations. He was chatting to his host during the evening and pointed to a fairly "untalented" French specimen. "Is that male or female?" "That is my wife - would you like me to introduce you?" Matt was one of several casualties who slept in the coach while we were given a guided tour of the vineyard. After much wine tasting it was off to a 5 course lunch with more wine, beer, whiskey and some pernod substitute. We started eating with less than an hour to kick off. Stitched up or what? During this time I had the misfortune to be stuck with our driver. I have never heard anyone so full of shit. He boasted that he had played for Birmingham City, played ice hockey for Streatham Redskins and was one of only two fifth dan karate experts in Britain. He was not allowed to name the other one as it was a state secret - like I wanted to know! He was to get worse as the day went on...

The first game was meant to be a Vets game, but we could only muster about 5 players, so we were heavily subsidised with French players. We ran out 4-2 winners with Dick Stoker scoring the goal of the game. His early run was not picked up and as 3 subsequent moves broke down the ball eventually found it’s way to Dick as he started to regain his position at right back. Not surprisingly he was unmarked and he advanced on their keeper, steadied himself and rifled an unstoppable shot in at the near post - much to the delight of the travelling support. Bob Hobbs didn’t play for long, but he made a lasting impression with those pink socks. The lack of players meant that our driver had a chance to show us what he was made of. Judging by his performance and physique, the only Birmingham City team he had played for was Birmingham City Refuse Collectors XI!

The first team got changed and more stories were exchanged. Apparently everyone had been stitched up in traditional French style and anyone who was not still drunk was suffering from severe indigestion. Meanwhile the French team sprinted around and stretched their alarmingly athletic bodies. They looked very impressive, but what would they be like in a match situation? Well, not bad really, as they raced to a 3-0 lead in 7 minutes. It would be unfair to single out anyone as the root cause of our problems, but since when has The Mag been fair? Trevor Carpenter’s performance was described by Dick Stoker as "the worst display ever in a Carshalton jersey". He wasn’t so much a yard behind play as still in the changing rooms. Once we regrouped at 3-0 down and played a 3 man defence with Trevor continuing his "roving" role, we came right back into it.

Andy Donnelly was badly affected by the conditions and his antics the previous night. "Stay on your feet" was the shout as he toppled over and the winger danced round him for the 10th time. "I fell over... I fell over". Later we were treated to quote of the game from Andy. As he raced down the line he suddenly pulled up short and announced "I’ve shat myself. No, really I have". This ploy worked and nobody came near him for the rest of the game. Tom Stoker produced an outstanding display of non goalkeeping. There was not too much use of the hands, but he contrived to use every other part of his body to keep the ball out. Their skipper actually thought that he was the regular 1st team keeper!!! One save which stood out was from a 20 yard free kick. Tom managed to get his chest on the ball, knocking it onto the bar and then casually picking up the rebound. Look no hands!!!

As I said, we improved and had managed to pull it back to 3-2 at half time thanks to a Matt Wigham penalty and a second for Matt with the help of a hand. This was about the only decision that went our way as the referee demonstrated the huge gulf in interpretation of the laws of the beautiful game on either side of the Channel. Tom asked me if the ref. was Chinese - Chee Ting Git. We blitzed them at the start of the second half and before we knew it we were 5-3 up. Paul Bourke scored by passing the ball into the net from 30 yards. Then he grabbed his second with a header from a free kick. Within a couple of minutes Simon Clare shot home at the near post. We held them until the final 15 minutes when we simply ran out of steam. Unfortunately we lost a goal in the last minute to go down 6-5.

After the final whistle we made straight for the bar and after a couple of beers it was off to the changing rooms. Knotty came out with a couple of gems - "I’m not surprised my boots have lasted the season, as I’m so light on my feet" and "They (the French wingers) couldn’t get round me" "They’d have needed a map" - Tom.

Saturday Nights are for Fighting

There were a number of incidents on Saturday night and some are mentioned below.

Matt’s host took a bit of stick for being "facially challenged". Snaggletooth, as he was renamed, looked like he had sprained his gob with a randomly arranged set of gnashers.

Andy Donnelly challenged his host to a drinking game and cheated unashamedly by pouring his drinks in the nearby flowerpot. He had to carry his host home - a more rubbered man you are unlikely to find.

Gep disgraced himself by throwing chewing gum at Trevor. It landed straight in his hair and wasn’t spotted for a while. When Trevor found out about it he flew into an alcohol induced rage. He couldn’t get it out, but help was at hand. Melanie offered her services adding that she had previous experience in hairdressing. Scissors were produced and she set to work - clipping great tufts from the Carpenter bonce. Simon was rather alarmed when he found out about this. "She only swept up the hair on the floor as a part time job. She has never cut it!!!" It just about made Trevor’s day when we broke the good news.

Jason was spotted running from his host. He was having problems with his host, who could not speak any English. Jason spoke no French and had only communicated with smiles and vomit. After hearing about our "gay" description of him he could take no more. Even their dog was scared of him. "What’s up Jason" "He doesn’t understand me. I need to buy a dictionary". At midnight???

Our driver continued to provide further entertainment. His life became considerably more colourful as the trip went on. Apparently he had been in the SAS and had wiped out an entire village in Ireland, but it had been hushed up. Matt continued the theme by suggesting that he had once been a bull in Spain and had spent a summer headbutting red capes and having spears stuck in his back.

The Morning After

After a couple of hours sleep we were back into the swing again. More booze, a barbecue and more booze and we were back at the club for another game of football. We arrived in dribs and drabs, everyone feeling dreadful, but some worse than others. We were very impressed when Tom Stoker appeared in the dressing room wearing his suit. "Don’t we go home today?" "No you pillock. We have a game against the Frogs now and we leave tomorrow!!". Yesterday’s kit absolutely stank and we all gagged as we put it on. Unbeknown to us, Trevor had brought the 6s kit with him, so there was no need for us to go through this revolting ritual. Somehow we raised ourselves from the dead and managed to win 3-2 despite Simon Clare’s best / worst efforts. Nick Llewellyn kicked lumps out of everything that moved and generally produced a xenophobic performance to be proud of. Trevor decided to sit this game out, much to everyone’s relief. Paul Bourke took over in goal at the start of the second half and made an immediate impression. He donned a pair of Louise’s red woollen gloves and really looked the part - not. After 10 minutes though, Tom took charge between the sticks after Bourkey had waved goodbye to a shot which nestled in the top corner.

I can’t remember who scored and quite honestly I don’t care. In injury time their Oscar Wilde centre forward threw himself in the box and the ref. gave a penalty. Snaggletooth came up from his keeper position to take the spot kick. Just as he was about to strike the ball the ref. blew for full time. The French do have a sense of humour after all.

In the afternoon it was off to the local wine factory for more free booze. We drank straight from the vats and also had massive pipettes of wine poured down our gullets. Louise confirmed Bourkey’s worst fears as she spat rather than swallowed. Paul Peagham was still on form - "I don’t know that song. You hum it and I’ll sing it."

Last Night of the Frogs

We arrived at Paul Peagham’s billet to pick him up for the final dinner. I was greeted with the news that he had spent an hour getting ready, but was still in his pants. I approached him to tell him to get his arse in gear and was dismayed to find him wearing only a jock strap trying to teach their son how to pronounce Cantona!! I asked Paul whether he had smart clobber for the formal dinner. His reply can only be put down to the effects of 4 days alcohol abuse - "I have packed a pair of trousers, but I don’t think they fit me." Why bring them then, Paul?

Having returned to his seat, Bourkey commented that there was a good chance that his white shirt would get ruined during the evening. To avoid him worrying about this all evening he splashed gravy, red wine and strawberry juice over his shirt. Much later (in fact I shudder to think how much wine, beer and whiskey later) Bourkey was slumped on a chair beside Louise with that all to familiar vacant stare. Remarking on the state of his shirt, a Frenchman asked him "Do you like Picasso?" Bourkey’s reply was instant "I don’t know. Have I met her yet?".

Knotty did his Madame Butterfly bit, which to the cultured ear was very good, but to the drunken rabble which confronted him it was a waste of valuable drinking time. Paul Peagham threatened to sing some Marillion, but was gently persuaded that legs would be broken. He still managed to get on stage to accompany some filthy French song about ladies parts, despite that fact he hadn’t a clue what was being said. He also managed to fall off the stage. Humpty Dumpty sprang to mind.

Time to Go Home

We met up at the coach at 9am. Trevor was obviously still out of his tree when he arrived, because he walked in a perfect parabolic curve to the coach door from his host’s house. Top marks to Steve Winton who paced himself best over the trip and consumed 2 bottles of wine on the coach home, while everyone else died quietly (and not so quietly, Trevor). Melanie caused the greatest concern on the coach home. She explained that she could not use the toilets abroad, on the ferry or on the coach. 4 days without emptying!!! If she had burst the entire coach would have been covered. She asked me not to report that conversation, so obviously I will respect her wishes!

Throughout the journey we had to remind each other that pigeon English was not required as we were relatively fluent. Andy Donnelly produced a genuinely disturbing display of foreskin gymnastics which would have been at home in the most outrageous grunge circus. I won’t go into details to save embarrassing his family, but suffice to say a cigarette lighter, an entire travelling chess set and Jason Lock’s passport were involved.

We poured off the coach for a much needed watering stop. I tried my best to lose the contents of my stomach, but failed. Rejoining the rest of the party at the burger stall, I could only spectate while huge sums of money were exchanged for what amounted to a poor man’s MacDonalds. Trevor Carpenter proved that he was still heavily drunk by announcing to everyone at the service station "She fancies me. That bird over there; she fancies me". A few minutes later he was feeling under the weather again. "Why are my legs shaking?" Tom replied "Even your hair is shaking, Trevor".

Paul Peagham was debagged for the umpteenth time, this time in front of the service station restaurant. Once again he seemed to take an age to pull his trousers up and the restaurant business plummeted.

Trevor emerged from another of his visits to the coach toilet to rapturous applause. "I think I’ve thrown my liver up". More was to follow as the ashen faced guru threw up for the last time... in Carshalton High Street. Trevor earned the nickname of Martini... because he was sick anytime, any place, anywhere. As he announced after another trip to the toilet "The only time I haven’t been sick is when I’m asleep. And even then I’m dreaming about it!" Truly a candidate for Pisshead of the Tour. Quite a successful tour for Trevor, as he only forgot 1 out of 3 bags he had taken with him. Unfortunately it contained the 6th team strip!!!

Award Winners - Montreuil-Bellay Tour ‘96

Pukers

Jason Lock, Paul Peagham, Louise, Andy Donnelly, Rod Woolvin, Bob Hobbs, Trevor Carpenter (of course)

Hairdresser of the Tour

Melanie Cobb

Most Likely to Fail Exams

Gep Valenza - this was supposed to be his revision week

Misses of the Tour

1 Simon Clare
2 Simon Clare
3 Simon Clare
4 Martin Vinsent
5 Simon Clare
6 Simon Clare
7 Martin Vinsent
8 Simon Clare
9 Matt Wigham
10 Simon Clare

Skidmarks of the Tour

Paul Peagham

Pissheads of the Tour

Trevor Carpenter & Jason Lock

Village Idiot of the Tour

Paul Peagham

Psycho of the Tour

Driver

In summary, I guess you can see what I thought of it all. A big thank you on behalf of everyone to all those involved in organising the trip and to everyone who went for making it such a success. I hope this report hasn’t gone on too long and that I haven’t missed out too many "golden moments". If you missed it this year, then get involved next time. Just ask anyone who went how good it was.

Buzz