Being a Manchester City fan I naturally hate Man United and all things Scouse, but there is one team that I personally hate more than those two combined and I certainly take great pleasure in their current plight in the third tier of English football.
I am of course referring to those dirty inbred scumbags from South Yorkshire, Leeds United.
It was always a battleground whenever City played them whether it was at Maine Road or their horrible shit hole of a ground Elland Road.
One year we went up there on the Yelloways coaches, as we disembarked in the coach car park it was kicking off all over the place with the sheepshaggers and no old bill in sight.
Eventually the Yorkshire plod showed up and ruined the fun, they steamed in and decided to hold the 200 or so City fans involved and escort us to the ground.
As usual they let the white shite go and were being a bit heavy handed with us.
Obviously this was because they were jealous of our superiority due to the fact we hailed from Lancashire and they were unfortunate enough to come from the armpit of England otherwise known as Yorkshire.
Anyway, they decided to hold us under some motorway darkened underpass near the ground and some smart arse mounted copper comes in and starts knocking into City fans with his horse and generally being a prick.
At this point we getting hyped up for the match and gave it a massive chant of "Manchester, la, la, la..."
The sound was completely amplified in such a confined space and the plod's horse panics and starts jumping around. Very unlucky for this particular member of Yorkshire's finest as his head hit the bottom of the concrete underpass and he was knocked out cold, much to our amusement.
Another time we played them up there we were on the piss in the Roebuck in Middleton, when it suddenly dawned on us that travel arrangements hadn't been made and it was already 1.30pm.
Suddenly in walks Lordy who wasn't much of a footy fan , he had just finished his early shift at McBride's and was stopping in for a quick pint before going home for the day.
"Hey Lordy" shouted one of our group, "you have a van, fancy driving us up to Leeds"
"Fuck off"
"We'll all buy you a pint when we get back"
"Oh alright then"
So with that 10 of us piled into the back of his tiny Ford Escort van accompanied by a huge carry out from Tesco's and set off for sheepshaggerland.
Lordy's van was minging by the way. It had no tax disc, the tires were bald, black smoke was coming out of the exhaust pipe, no wipers and it was pissing it down.
Actually there was one wiper but it was sitting on the dashboard and every now and then during the journey Lordy would open the window, lean out and manually wipe the rain off the windscreen while doing 70mph on the motorway.
How we got to Leeds in one piece, I will never know.
When we got to the ground we parked up and all bundled out for a quick piss and it was at this point that Charnock discovered the spare car battery he had been using for a seat was leaking acid and had burnt a hole into the arse his brand new maroon Lois cords.
We didn't really get any bother on the way to the ground, which was just as well as Charnock was so annoyed about his cords that he would have leathered any Yorkie's single handed.
Not sure of the score that day, but we probably won because as bad as we were back then, Leeds were usually a lot worse.
After the game we piled back into the van, upon trying to get back on the motorway Lordy informed us that along with all the other faults on the van his indicators weren't working either.
We came to an intersection and needed to turn right, unfortunately there was a copper directing traffic and because Lordy couldn't signal, he pointed the van straight ahead.
Because of his dodgy motor, Lordy complied as he didn't want any unwanted attention from the local costabulary.
Of course we ended up miles out of our way in a slow moving traffic jam. As we were slowly passing a pub full of Leeds fans one of our lot decided it would be a good laugh to shout "City" out of the window.
Well nobody laughed and we were instantly bombarded with bottles, pint glasses and anything else the neanderthals could get their hands on. We were packed into the van like sardines and there for the taking, Leeds twats surrounded the van, rocking it and trying to drag us out.
"Get off my fucking van you sheepshagging cunts" screamed Lordy while trying to fight them off through his window.
All of a sudden he floored it and mounted the kerb sending Yorkshire inbreeds running in every direction. One or two of them gamely held onto the van for dear life, but fell off as Lordy skillfully weaved down the pavement like a James Bond stunt driver and out of Dodge City.
He certainly earned his free beer that night back at the Roebuck, never a fucking dull moment in Leeds.
I am of course referring to those dirty inbred scumbags from South Yorkshire, Leeds United.
It was always a battleground whenever City played them whether it was at Maine Road or their horrible shit hole of a ground Elland Road.
One year we went up there on the Yelloways coaches, as we disembarked in the coach car park it was kicking off all over the place with the sheepshaggers and no old bill in sight.
Eventually the Yorkshire plod showed up and ruined the fun, they steamed in and decided to hold the 200 or so City fans involved and escort us to the ground.
As usual they let the white shite go and were being a bit heavy handed with us.
Obviously this was because they were jealous of our superiority due to the fact we hailed from Lancashire and they were unfortunate enough to come from the armpit of England otherwise known as Yorkshire.
Anyway, they decided to hold us under some motorway darkened underpass near the ground and some smart arse mounted copper comes in and starts knocking into City fans with his horse and generally being a prick.
At this point we getting hyped up for the match and gave it a massive chant of "Manchester, la, la, la..."
The sound was completely amplified in such a confined space and the plod's horse panics and starts jumping around. Very unlucky for this particular member of Yorkshire's finest as his head hit the bottom of the concrete underpass and he was knocked out cold, much to our amusement.
Another time we played them up there we were on the piss in the Roebuck in Middleton, when it suddenly dawned on us that travel arrangements hadn't been made and it was already 1.30pm.
Suddenly in walks Lordy who wasn't much of a footy fan , he had just finished his early shift at McBride's and was stopping in for a quick pint before going home for the day.
"Hey Lordy" shouted one of our group, "you have a van, fancy driving us up to Leeds"
"Fuck off"
"We'll all buy you a pint when we get back"
"Oh alright then"
So with that 10 of us piled into the back of his tiny Ford Escort van accompanied by a huge carry out from Tesco's and set off for sheepshaggerland.
Lordy's van was minging by the way. It had no tax disc, the tires were bald, black smoke was coming out of the exhaust pipe, no wipers and it was pissing it down.
Actually there was one wiper but it was sitting on the dashboard and every now and then during the journey Lordy would open the window, lean out and manually wipe the rain off the windscreen while doing 70mph on the motorway.
How we got to Leeds in one piece, I will never know.
When we got to the ground we parked up and all bundled out for a quick piss and it was at this point that Charnock discovered the spare car battery he had been using for a seat was leaking acid and had burnt a hole into the arse his brand new maroon Lois cords.
We didn't really get any bother on the way to the ground, which was just as well as Charnock was so annoyed about his cords that he would have leathered any Yorkie's single handed.
Not sure of the score that day, but we probably won because as bad as we were back then, Leeds were usually a lot worse.
After the game we piled back into the van, upon trying to get back on the motorway Lordy informed us that along with all the other faults on the van his indicators weren't working either.
We came to an intersection and needed to turn right, unfortunately there was a copper directing traffic and because Lordy couldn't signal, he pointed the van straight ahead.
Because of his dodgy motor, Lordy complied as he didn't want any unwanted attention from the local costabulary.
Of course we ended up miles out of our way in a slow moving traffic jam. As we were slowly passing a pub full of Leeds fans one of our lot decided it would be a good laugh to shout "City" out of the window.
Well nobody laughed and we were instantly bombarded with bottles, pint glasses and anything else the neanderthals could get their hands on. We were packed into the van like sardines and there for the taking, Leeds twats surrounded the van, rocking it and trying to drag us out.
"Get off my fucking van you sheepshagging cunts" screamed Lordy while trying to fight them off through his window.
All of a sudden he floored it and mounted the kerb sending Yorkshire inbreeds running in every direction. One or two of them gamely held onto the van for dear life, but fell off as Lordy skillfully weaved down the pavement like a James Bond stunt driver and out of Dodge City.
He certainly earned his free beer that night back at the Roebuck, never a fucking dull moment in Leeds.
HA. Okay... I thought I'd get some sweet Wallace and Gromit reference above. I should have known better. Too funny. Did the Queen make you move to america once she found out about you?
ReplyDelete-Catherine