the shamefull quest

[bukowski]

ferry was crowded, the sun was alone up there with the blue sky and the heat peaking at marvellous 18 degrees. about 6-700 supporters sang their way to another easy match over the fjord. this was going to be another day to remember.

we finally found the pub and crammed down to pints before we marrily strolled over to the stadium three minutes away.
when i got there the black and yellow flags and banners where allready
wayving throught the skyline line of Lystlunden stadium. we outnumbered the eaglesnest by a good 1000.
at first it seemed like this was going to be a fun game. a mear concern though about Julle, our captain and defender, as he was sitting on the turnpike watching the game rather than paticipate in it. but what the hell, we scored, and it was rob.
i, for one was more occupied with singin, than acctually watching the game at this time (you know: "nice one robbie /nice one son/ nice one robbiiiie/ let's have another one) so i didn't even see the first shot hit me, but i felt it in ma heart as the brown players sheeard towards the centerline. i have no idea what the fock happend.
anyway, come the break, im off to the pub again, it was still just three minutes away. at the pub i eagerly watch liverpool loose to charlton, and i guess i got optimistic about the hole football thing. so i downed to pinters, and felt like golden God.
back at the stadium the quest continued. i don't think anyone could a have foreseen the horror to come. it must'ave taken a while for them to score, cause i was all merry-tunes, and for the first time in years i sensed that blissfull feeling of a sore throat. i know i saw a brownie, fumbling with the ball inside our 16, thus turning, and kind of rolling the ball inside that shamefull net far on the other side. i resigned not. i was shocked.
the eaglesnest on the other side, a good 15 blokes, started to take over the show. the ref suddenly got weaker. the linesman was a mear shadow of joyfull fellow whom earlyer had danced so merryly infront of us. and our yellow sons out there, man, im telling you, their capasity was estimated at a 70% (out of a hundred) no wonder i was getting thirsty.
then out of the brown comes rob. last weeks saviour. allready at the ref's mercy, he figures he mind as well kill a guy. the brownie fell like a acid haunted fredrikstad pine and was never more to be seen again at the stadium. then it was all over. we threw our match-programs at the linesman and headed for the ferry.

at the ferry port, about 2000 ppl, where trying to board the brigde at the same time. the watchman halted us, put we where to powerfull and to damn angry to even take notice of him. we sat in silence all the way home on a ferry with no beer, and the sun laughing at us
all alone
way up there.

[bukowski]

ferry was crowded, the sun was alone up there with the blue sky and the heat peaking at marvellous 18 degrees. about 6-700 supporters sang their way to another easy match over the fjord. this was going to be another day to remember.

we finally found the pub and crammed down to pints before we marrily strolled over to the stadium three minutes away.
when i got there the black and yellow flags and banners where allready
wayving throught the skyline line of Lystlunden stadium. we outnumbered the eaglesnest by a good 1000.
at first it seemed like this was going to be a fun game. a mear concern though about Julle, our captain and defender, as he was sitting on the turnpike watching the game rather than paticipate in it. but what the hell, we scored, and it was rob.
i, for one was more occupied with singin, than acctually watching the game at this time (you know: " nice one robbie /nice one son/ nice one robbiiiie/ let's have another one) so i didn't even see the first shot hit me, but i felt it in ma heart as the brown players sheeard towards the centerline. i have no idea what the fock happend.
anyway, come the break, im off to the pub again, it was still just three minutes away. at the pub i eagerly watch liverpool loose to charlton, and i guess i got optimistic about the hole football thing. so i downed to pinters, and felt like golden God.
back at the stadium the quest continued. i don't think anyone could a have foreseen the horror to come. it must'ave taken a while for them to score, cause i was all merry-tunes, and for the first time in years i sensed that blissfull feeling of a sore throat. i know i saw a brownie, fumbling with the ball inside our 16, thus turning, and kind of rolling the ball inside that shamefull net far on the other side. i resigned not. i was shocked.
the eaglesnest on the other side, a good 15 blokes, started to take over the show. the ref suddenly got weaker. the linesman was a mear shadow of joyfull fellow whom earlyer had danced so merryly infront of us. and our yellow sons out there, man, im telling you, their capasity was estimated at a 70% (out of a hundred) no wonder i was getting thirsty.
then out of the brown comes rob. last weeks saviour. allready at the ref's mercy, he figures he mind as well kill a guy. the brownie fell like a acid haunted fredrikstad pine and was never more to be seen again at the stadium. then it was all over. we threw our match-programs at the linesman and headed for the ferry.

at the ferry port, about 2000 ppl, where trying to board the brigde at the same time. the watchman halted us, put we where to powerfull and to damn angry to even take notice of him. we sat in silence all the way home on a ferry with no beer, and the sun laughing at us
all alone
way up there.

[François]

It sounds a bit like we play away to Rochester...without the ferry...

[The pigfarmer]

Bukowski found the register button, that's nice, but why this spamming?

[Invité]

elementery, miss piggy
my first post was not registraded under my sworen nickname, thus, i sat the record straight and filed the post under my membername. just for the record.

[bukowski]

elementery, miss piggy
my first post was not registraded under my sworen nickname, thus, i sat the record straight and filed the post under my membername. just for the record.


(like i had to do now../&%¤)

[François]

[The pigfarmer]

Wow! I'm laughing my balls off! Can you do it again? Master of flooding!

And, just for the record, I'm not Miss Piggy! I'm the guy who spanks her when she's a little naughty pig. I lay her across my thies, whipin' those pink buns while I shout: "Who's your daddy, who's your daddy!?"

[Robban B]

Norwegians...