Thursday, September 28, 2006

The biggest five weeks in my life (26 August - 23 September)

Oktoberfest was the final weekend in the biggest five weeks of my life (hence no blog updates). It was over a month of my life which kind of went like this:

Week 1

After playing agaist the Putney Magpies for a place in the Grand Final we were all pumped up for a massive night. It was a good hard win against Putney, a dirty team, who when we decided to fight back with the same tactics (punches in tackles, black eyes left, right and centre, and going in knee first in a mark), their coach told our's to tell the Demon's players to calm down. It's not netball mate. Anyway, Putney came back in the last half after we lost one player with a broken wrist and our captain, who decided to play street fighter with someone’s face, so it was close despite us winning by 21 points.

So after a good win, Hosko’s speech put us in the mood for the epic several weeks ahead!

Many of us were going to a day rave after the game called SW4, which pretty much had every major DJ you have heard of playing (for picture take a look here - I suggest the guys take a look.

Several hours in the sun and it was time to head to Fridge, a club in Brixton, to watch the captain of the firsts as a guest DJ.

It was pretty hot in there, and for some reason, before we knew it, the entire group had taken their tops off – that’s about 30 guys.

Audi is still receiving invites to play at
gay gigs (more pics here).

Week 2

Well, after only losing twice through the whole season, we ended up going down in the Grand Final to Shepard’s Bush – filthy turds. With only one thing left to do it was off to the Alex (sponsors pub) to drown our sorrows and drink away the season (pics here). Obvious hits of the night were Midas and his ‘baking’.
Midas after his baking.Walking back into the Alex at midday on Sunday after no sleep to continue (I got through one beer and fell asleep at the bar – dragged myself home) it was the end of that weekend.

You don’t want a photo of that.

Week 3

Grinspoon and I had been toying with the idea of dressing up for vote count but we couldn’t settle on anything. Then it hit us. Spoon coming in at 6’5”, me at 6’2” (from certain angles), he be Willy Wonka, me be Oompah Loompah. Perfect.
Was a great idea until we realised that we would have to walk around London dressed like that – ah well – what do you do! Although a big afternoon on a Sunday night is a bit of a struggle, it was all good until we went to a club at 10pm, which didn’t bode well the next day. What else doesn’t seem to bode well is going to a club dressed as an Oompah Loompah.

Once again, a picture tells a thousand words, have a look here.

Week 4 footy trip (please see below)
Week 5 Oktoberfest (please see below)

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Oktoberfest - Oh mein Gott!

Erstens mich, wie ScheiÃe mich sagen gegenüberstellte, lassen erhielt und wieviele Paare der fantastischen breats ich sah!

Well Oktoberfest, what can I say. I shit you not, it was the most fun I have ever had in my life. I'm not kidding and I'm not exaggerating, it was THE MOST FUN I HAVE EVER HAD - and my grandma used to take me to the David Jones food court and let me choose any lollies I wanted when I was younger - 23 - so I know fun!

Also, don't think you know the Germans. They are one of the friendliest groups of people I've met. Every Kraut we spoke to, liased with, cuddled, bumped, pushed or poked were full of smiles, laughter and hospitality. If I had a whole bunch of foreigners invading my country (opps, shouldn't say that), coming in to my country to smash beers, dance on tables and act like general fools, I'd be annoyed with them. But these crazy little sauerkraut scoffers do nothing but laugh, in fact, the love nothing better than joining in! The Germans are as friendly as the Poles, but have the confidence to be loud about it.

The second thing that amazed me, which also did in Poland, was the sheer hatred for Italians that is shared by all on the continent. I thought people didn't like the Brits or Aussies. Oh no, only the Spanish don't like the Brits and only the Brits don't like the Aussie, but that is nothing compared to the sheer hatred towards the Italians. And you can understand why when you see them. I have never seen a group of guys who could not handle their alcohol, grope as many barmaids, shout as lound as possible, but yet leave no tip, in my life. Now I don’t want to be generalistic here, but when its 90 per cent of the groups you see - and every German tells you the same - it stacks up.

Enough of that, here we go.

After a large Thursday night I nearly missed my flight to Munich. Being greeted at the train station by Glasso he let me know he forgot his sleeping bag so we would have to snuggle - interesting weekend.

A few bottles of Russia's finest for the plane journey and we were off. Two hours later we were touching down in Munich. Hung over getting off the plane, just look how excited I was to be in Munich!
Before leaving London, I thought I'll be fine, I can sleep on the plane. Not happening.
It's okay I'll sleep when we get to the camp site and take the first night a little easy. Not happening. I knew the weekend was going to be big when Pete and Junior greeted us at the camp site at 4pm looking they this:

One thing I love about London is its proximity to Europe. For example, please relive my conversation with my house mates last week:

Bart: I'm in Poland tomorrow and Germany next week, what are you plans?
Holly: Well Gill is in Paris this week and I'll be there shortly, where's John?
Bart: I think he's Dublin.
Holly: No that was last week, he's in Essex.
Bart: Wait, Gill's in Paris, I thought she was in Berlin.
Holly: No, next week when you're in Munich.

Anyway, arriving in Munich and getting on a train one thing strikes you, if the sign says the trains leaves at 14.55, it will leave at 14.55 on the second. Ah the German efficeny.

Arriving at the camp site, I won't bore you with the details, but here's the summary for Friday night:

  • Two bottles of vodka, one of Bacardi and some dark rum = 2 hours to put a tent up. And how happy where we when we finished.

  • Incidents with arse cheeks, marshmallows and a bonfire.
  • An American in a Bavarin dress and Glasso's right nut.

Arriving at the beer halls at 9am, we couldn't believe the size of the lines. These suckers were metres deep to get into the beers halls. When each beer hall takes about 10,000 and there are 15 of them, you can imagine how many people are drinking at 9am.

Although you start early, and that first beer is sheer torture, you do get through and continue, and they do get easier as the day goes on. Also, they must put something in there, as the more you drink, the less drunk you actually feel, and start to get a little hyper active.




After finding a seat outside we sat there all day, doing nothing but drinking, laughing, eating, laughing, singing and doing a little more laughing. Great day.

After waking up feeling great, no hang over, but a little tired, we decided to go to the Lowenbrau tent. Arriving at 8.30am we were ready in the front of the line. That's when our luck toowaitressfor the GREATEST! A waiteress, soon to become our best friend, Suzzana, came out and asked us where are you from. As soon as we said we weren't Italians she took us in via a back entrance and asked us to spread ourselves around to take up the table space in her area, and only to move when she brought people she wanted to sit over to us. So there we were, all by ourselves in the beer hall with only the staff looking at us as if we were criminals invading their space.

We loved Suzanna

She brought us beer: She taught us to eat German sausages properly (you cut them in half, suck the meat out and throw away the skin): She even drank the beers too:She is actually a doctor during the year in Berlin and comes to Oktoberfest to get easy tips, drink a lot, smoke a lot and then head back to her conservative life each year where she does none of that. We loved Suzanna:
The Lowenbrau tent is known as the German tent, as the locals go there rather than any other tent. That's where I became a bigamist.

Now that I have a Russian bride (see previous blog entry) I really shouldn't be marrying anyone, but after meeting a lovely German named Cassandra, she had a special something. After chatting for a little while I had found out... her father owns a LOWENBRAU PUB just out of Munich.

I proposed then and there. She accepted. I'm planning the divorce when my Visa comes through and I get the pub in the split.

Another night of singing, dancing and drinking occurred with typical Bavarian feasting (roast chickens, pork legs, schnitzels, sauerkraut and beer). I love the Germans.
There's the good food:

Huhn schnitzel Rolle (Chicken schnitzel roll)

The great food:

SchweinefleischknÃchel (Pork knuckle)

And food, which come to think of it, really shouldn't be eaten:

Rettiche tauchten in Bier ein und rollten im Salz (Radishes dipped in beer and rolled in salt)

After all this food, beer, trumpets, drums, singing and general frivolity, you are so excited and pumped up, you don't actually feel drunk. Although if you are not drunk, I'm not sure what excuse you have for dancing on the table thinking you know the words to some traditional German yodel - or wearing a chook on your head.

Also, a point to note. If some old lady is trying pinch your arse when you are dancing on the table, don't get down and give her a hug, it only encourages her!

Monday was a day of sight seeing for a few of us, so I won't bore you with the details, accept to say we hired some bikes and decided to ride around Munich. I actually felt like one of the SS officers you see in movies riding along their bikes in the Bavarian countryside.

Now let's play a game, can you spot the difference?

Did you guess it? That's right, I'm in a city street in the first one, not the park like the other two.

After riding around looking at the sites, the people I were with were starting to get a little worried about my insistmemorabiliang all the Nazi sites and memorabilier, such as:

Beer hall where Hitler gave his first speech Where he held his first Nazi Party rally...

To people standing here.

So that's it people. Here's a shot of me doing something touristy for Mum. Till next time, bye bye.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Football Trip - Krakow, Poland

Well we all know what happens on football trip stays on football trip, so this is going to be brief. I'm not going to go in to too many details (take a look for yourself on the club's website), except there were 50 guys going to a cheap Eastern European country, so I'll just give the highlights:

  • Miss World competition held in Krakow at the same time (take a look at the website boys)
  • Ash's singing the number one song in Krakow at the time, Scotty the best. It goes a little something like this:

Scotty the best...he likes to go out in his woolen vest
Hey Scotty, Scotty West.
Hey don't like to drink, he don't like to smoke,
He's just gone out and played 300 of the best,
Hey Scotty.

It's not so much the words or the theme, but the fact that Ash was running around the main square (second largest in Europe mind you) in Krakow, no shirt on and covered in beer. I have never seen so many confused looks, and photos taken - the police even took photo:And the locals loved it: For a full version of the Scotty West theme song, please follow the below link to see Andrew Glasson's rendition on a crowded tram back from Oktoberfest in Munich:

  • Pigeon fights - catching the pigeon, bowl the pigeon.
  • Higgo's phone antics - if you wreck someone's phone by pouring beer over it, it doesn't make it right if you do the same to yours.
  • Extractor's pool cue fury and airline take off projectiles.
  • 10 Polish Zaloty = 1 British Pound. Vodka Red Bull is 9 Zaloty. Chaos and carnage, with security not willing to kick us out due to the amount we were spending.

It wasn't all fun and games. I couldn't be happy if I didn't get some sight-seeing in. Although, after no sleep and feeling like a big man named Larry shat on your head, you really shouldn't go here:

So after three nights and four days containing six hours sleep in total, you can imagine how tired and emotional we all felt at sunrise on Sunday morning: But at least we had Chuck Norris to take care of us:

Friday, September 08, 2006

Bacon butty 3

Why have I been traipsing around London looking for the best bacon butty in the land when Marsh has a perfectly good staff restaurant down stairs? Two reasons:

It’s a buffet – leaving me no one to blame for bad butty form
Bloggers in the past have been fired for having a dig at their company, would the staff restaurant have the same effect?

Only one way to find out?

Bacon Butty 3
Marsh (Ground Floor, Tower Place East, London, EC3R 5BU)
Walking up the table of bread rolls I was surprised by the selection – we had baps, rolls or bread – a cornucopia of doughy goodness.

With the roll selected, buttered up more than a third world country policeman and a touch of HP sauce (Brown), it was time to hit the heated smorgasbord in front of me and select my poison.

In went one fried egg and about 20 rashes of bacon – honour system my arse.

Now for the verdict:

The presentation left a lot to be desired - although I hear the presenter is a hot piece of meat - there was no excuse for the slap it down style that was on my plate. The pile of lightly cooked bacon was generous in its amount and taste. A lightly smokey flavour, coupled with a tang of sea-salt, sourced from the salt cliffs of Wangano, gave the bacon an angelic like musk. The egg, while slightly underdone, had had time to mature in its mother-of-pearl colour, porcelain based serving tray, which combined with the stainless steel fashioned serving spoon, and being delicately placed on to the bun, was – one would say – ‘yummy in my tummy’. All up this bacon butty, by sheer size and flavour, would have to be the favourite. Although Benjy’s had a wonderful flavour, it was a combination of several strong taste explosions, which did not combine as well in the overall gastronomic experience. Eight Miss Piggys Marsh, well done.