There was an air of uncertainty and discontent in 1987 asRed Newsfirst graced Warwick Road with its presence. The magnitude of the job Alex Ferguson had in front of him was becoming increasingly apparent and whilst it was early in his incumbency, such was the turbulence of Manchester United’s season, there wasn’t 100% confidence on the disgruntled terraces of Old Trafford that he was the man to repair the debris left to him by Ron Atkinson.
In the wider world, Margaret Thatcher’s government were continuing their vendetta against football fans. One of these ideas was to make every football supporter carry membership cards for the club they were affiliated too when attending matches. It was around this time that United introduced their own shitty membership scheme, the benefits which included 10p off a pencil rubber in the newly fangled superstore for the commencement of the 87/88 campaign. One of the most controversial measures of this scheme was making the Stretford End terrace members only, where the Stretford Paddock was fine for anybody who wanted to attend. This resulted in a lot of refuseniks (this writer included) moving over to the Paddock and it’s also this writer’s opinion that the Stretford End was never quite the same after this.Continue reading Is That The Programme?
The first thing I had to do this morning was head over to Portland Street and drop off a ticket with a lad who was going to Hull on the UWS Monkey Bus. I wasn’t to know this then, but this probably turned up the most interesting sight of the day – the walk of shame I saw en route. It was 10.30 and I’ve never seen so many girls doing that walk, at such a late hour of the morning. It could easily be called the Portland Street catwalk…
United defend a…nah, this photograph makes the game look far more interesting than what it was. The photo has been put up purely to boost this blog post’s profile in social media and for no other reason. The income generated will boost the coffers in my campaign for world domination; a kitty that presently has £5.27, a pack of king size rizlas and half an ounce of… rolling baccy, you rascal. Continue reading Portland Street Catwalk – Manchester 24th May 2015
I had a late night last night and an early morning today, leaving me somewhat foggy-headed. With that in mind, it was very decent of United to turn out a performance of such clueless tedium, that I’m sure I managed a nap during the match. It was either that or I can simply recall nothing of it until Southampton substitute Dusan Tadic put the Saints in the lead in the 69th minute after Graziano Pelle’s shot had come back off David de Gea’s near post.
A rare United attack from a di Maria corner on six minutes
A great day was not dampened by a dreadful match (less of which later). Good company at a very welcoming pub in Heighinton helped no end. Laughter, some highbrow conversation and some suitably daft was just the ticket for a coach load of thirsty reds who had until then, been the model of temperance. Sunderland itself provided its usual vision of desolation. The West Stand, which was to our right of Sunderland’s pretentiously named stadium in Sheepfolds backs onto the bank of the River Wear. Directly behind us was the barren wasteland that was the Wearmouth Colliery. One saving grace about the place is that with the A690, Sunderland has a decent arterial road which is very handy for getting out of that hole quickly. The journey home was just as joyous as the Red Issue/UWS Monkey Bus had a coffee fueled sing song which was by a country mile the most entertaining aspect of the day.
The land behind the North Stand of the Stadium of Light immediately after yesterdays match. This is no place to be stuck without a ticket.
Three weeks ago, United played City and for the first time ever, I didn’t see a single ticket tout working a United game. The same thing happened yesterday at Arsenal’s stadium at Ashburton Grove. The circumstances though between the two games and lack of ticket grafters were radically different. For the derby, the local plod had decided on a zero tolerance policy for the enterprising free marketeers who work on Warwick Road, doing as the government tell them to do by going out and earning a living. Damned if they do, damned if they don’t. Yesterday at Arsenal, I did not come across a single person selling a ticket until the game had kicked off. The concourse was flooded with reds desperately trying to get tickets and there was absolutely nothing about. Through desperation, I tried jibbing my way into the ground. Twice I got in and twice some over-enthusiastic and underpaid jobsworth woke up at the very second I didn’t want them too. On the third attempt, I was clocked by a Policeman who’d saw me getting kicked out five minutes earlier. After he compared me to a feature of female genitalia, he advised me in Anglo Saxon language with all the humour you’d expect from a copper that I’d be spending some time courtesy of his friends and her majesty at Blackstock Road Police station if he saw me again. I didn’t want that to happen as they have a habit of releasing people minutes after the last train has left so you don’t even get a nights stay out of them. With resignation, I was walking towards Holloway Road to find a pub showing the match when I bumped into an Arsenal fan who offered me a spare for £200.00. Seconds after I told him this amateur once a season tout which orifice he could place his ticket, I heard a faint cheer go up and I was convinced United had scored. Due to the local mobile phone masts going berserk, it was a good five minutes before I could phone somebody to be greeted with the news that it was actually Arsenal who had scored with a goal by Theo Walcott. Continue reading An Old Fashioned Charabanc…Islington 29th of April 2013