Back in the early 80's before Manchester City had a swanky new stadium and multi-billionaire Arab owners, we played in the Mancunian "ghetto" known as Moss Side.
Our proud and rotting stadium was Maine Road and anyone who visited our beloved dump back in the 70's, 80's and 90's would have been aware of one of our legendary fans, Helen Turner.
Helen was a "large" lady who sat behind the goal in the North Stand for every home game and was famous for ringing a bell during the match to inspire the blues on to victory.
She was loved by players and fans alike. City keeper Joe Corrigan had a close friendship with her and made a point of giving her a a kiss and a present before the game each year on her birthday. The Kippax would frequently chant "Helen, Helen ring your bell" and she would happily oblige.
As a City fan you would notice that she'd always sit on the front seat on the first coach of the official supporters club coaches at all away matches.
She was practically the City mascot long before some spotty PR bloke on a bad acid trip came up with Moonchester.
Let me tell you my opinion though, she was a pain in the arse.
During my first away game following City (I was 12 and it was at Derby County) she swanned around the coach like Peter Swales as if she owned City and demanded that we bought the dodgy club bingo tickets.
She gave us grief for bringing our own sarnies along for the trip and constantly reprimanded us during the coach ride for being noisy and generally being kids.
She stunk of as well, I'm not saying it was piss, but I'm not ruling it out.
She was always decked out from head to toe in sky blue and topped off her ensemble with a horrible out dated bleached bee hive hairdo.
I'm sure she was alright in real life but that first run in with her on my one and only supporters club coach trip made a bad impression and I tend to bear more grudges than lonely high court judges and I never forgive or forget.
Years later while travelling to Huddersfield away with the Yelloways mob, our coach found it's way directly in front of an official supporters club coach in heavy traffic on the way to the ground.
"Fucking hell, it's big fat Helen" shouted one of the lads.
We turned round to see her, bell in hand, sitting at the front of the coach.
Our mate Grommy said he'd moon her for a fiver, so we took him up on it but informed him to wait until the right moment and we'd let him know.
So he undid his jeans and crouched down on the back seat waiting for his cue.
Soon enough a motorbike cop was spotted slowly riding up the road past the City coaches. Just as he drew up to ours we all shouted "Now!!!!!"
With that Grommy excitedly jumped up on the back seat and stuck his arse on the window bearing it for Helen, the inhabitants of the supporters club coach and one shocked member of Yorkshire's constabulary. He practically fell off his bike and the look on Helen's face was absolutely priceless. It may or may not have been a look of desire, but I can't confirm that.
Needless to say the copper boarded our coach with Helen in hot pursuit.
"Alright, who's the clever twat then?" he demanded
"Lock 'em all up, bloody hooligans. You're a disgrace to City" screamed Helen.
Obviously nobody would say who did it, so the copper emptied the entire coach apart from the back row.
"I know it was one of you lot" he said
"How about we have an identity parade" suggested Paul Porter
"We could all show our arses and see if Helen recognises the culprit"
"Well, well gentlemen" said plod, "we have a winner, you'll fucking do"
And with that he bundled Porter off the coach by the scruff of the neck.
"Is this the one love" he asked Helen.
"Aye, that's him"
"You lying cow" we all shouted.
It was at this point that Grommy owned up in order to spare Paul's neck (or arse)
The copper came back on board smiling, lets everyone go and gives Porter a bollocking for being a "funny cunt"
He then gets back off the coach and lectures Helen for telling porkies. I swear he also gave us a wink before he rode off into the Yorkshire sunset.
No doubt that story gave a few Huddersfield old bill a good chuckle or two back at the station that night.
Our proud and rotting stadium was Maine Road and anyone who visited our beloved dump back in the 70's, 80's and 90's would have been aware of one of our legendary fans, Helen Turner.
Helen was a "large" lady who sat behind the goal in the North Stand for every home game and was famous for ringing a bell during the match to inspire the blues on to victory.
She was loved by players and fans alike. City keeper Joe Corrigan had a close friendship with her and made a point of giving her a a kiss and a present before the game each year on her birthday. The Kippax would frequently chant "Helen, Helen ring your bell" and she would happily oblige.
As a City fan you would notice that she'd always sit on the front seat on the first coach of the official supporters club coaches at all away matches.
She was practically the City mascot long before some spotty PR bloke on a bad acid trip came up with Moonchester.
Let me tell you my opinion though, she was a pain in the arse.
During my first away game following City (I was 12 and it was at Derby County) she swanned around the coach like Peter Swales as if she owned City and demanded that we bought the dodgy club bingo tickets.
She gave us grief for bringing our own sarnies along for the trip and constantly reprimanded us during the coach ride for being noisy and generally being kids.
She stunk of as well, I'm not saying it was piss, but I'm not ruling it out.
She was always decked out from head to toe in sky blue and topped off her ensemble with a horrible out dated bleached bee hive hairdo.
I'm sure she was alright in real life but that first run in with her on my one and only supporters club coach trip made a bad impression and I tend to bear more grudges than lonely high court judges and I never forgive or forget.
Years later while travelling to Huddersfield away with the Yelloways mob, our coach found it's way directly in front of an official supporters club coach in heavy traffic on the way to the ground.
"Fucking hell, it's big fat Helen" shouted one of the lads.
We turned round to see her, bell in hand, sitting at the front of the coach.
Our mate Grommy said he'd moon her for a fiver, so we took him up on it but informed him to wait until the right moment and we'd let him know.
So he undid his jeans and crouched down on the back seat waiting for his cue.
Soon enough a motorbike cop was spotted slowly riding up the road past the City coaches. Just as he drew up to ours we all shouted "Now!!!!!"
With that Grommy excitedly jumped up on the back seat and stuck his arse on the window bearing it for Helen, the inhabitants of the supporters club coach and one shocked member of Yorkshire's constabulary. He practically fell off his bike and the look on Helen's face was absolutely priceless. It may or may not have been a look of desire, but I can't confirm that.
Needless to say the copper boarded our coach with Helen in hot pursuit.
"Alright, who's the clever twat then?" he demanded
"Lock 'em all up, bloody hooligans. You're a disgrace to City" screamed Helen.
Obviously nobody would say who did it, so the copper emptied the entire coach apart from the back row.
"I know it was one of you lot" he said
"How about we have an identity parade" suggested Paul Porter
"We could all show our arses and see if Helen recognises the culprit"
"Well, well gentlemen" said plod, "we have a winner, you'll fucking do"
And with that he bundled Porter off the coach by the scruff of the neck.
"Is this the one love" he asked Helen.
"Aye, that's him"
"You lying cow" we all shouted.
It was at this point that Grommy owned up in order to spare Paul's neck (or arse)
The copper came back on board smiling, lets everyone go and gives Porter a bollocking for being a "funny cunt"
He then gets back off the coach and lectures Helen for telling porkies. I swear he also gave us a wink before he rode off into the Yorkshire sunset.
No doubt that story gave a few Huddersfield old bill a good chuckle or two back at the station that night.
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