May 2009 was as usual the time for the annual end of season trip, and this year "The Boss" had a meeting with himself and decided to explore the far flung corners of north west England, Lancaster to be precise. So, he booked the boys into a 5-star "Boutique" hotel and kept everything crossed and prayed Hagey was on the wagon.

Well seen the power of prayer goes for nothing as they set off on the bus fully loaded and cargoed up and Hagey was "mad wie it" before they hit the Whirlies.

The drink was flowing, the songs were being sung and we found out something new about Greg K (The Boss's roommate), yes its true, he was born without a bladder. So five hours and eight piss stops later we arrived in lancaster safely (just).

The guys dumped there gear, Taggs thought about how he could get the wall-mounted plasma tv into his bag and "The Boss" was in deep negotiations with the hotel manager about payment for possible damages. Then it was shower, shave and for some a change of clothes and into town, and the town was buzzing. To misquote an old Thin Lizzy song (who they) "The Boys were Back in town for the first time" and to directly quote The burly doorman of Lancaster "you two are barred", the two being Martin "Madwieit" Hagan and the fat Aiden Mcgeady himself, Jamie Innes, not that this bothered the drunken twosome, they promptly stopped a Lancaster taxi and in their best Scottish Accent said "East Kilbride driver, is there a boundary".

The night dragged on, and sooner or later they all got back to the hotel, "the Boss" sober as judge, patrolled the corridors in the early morning to make sure all were tucked up in bed and noticed that Cookie was sharing his bed with a inflatable sheep, you just cant keep a good man down he thought. . . .

The day started badly when Paul “I won’t let you down” Jardine didn’t show to provide the rolls and sausage before we set off. Colin stepped in and gave Tags £20 and told him to “get rolls for the boys”. Tags came back 5 minutess later with 32 dry rolls…what a dick!

Things got worse as Colin realised he had forgotten the quiz that he had been up all night copying from the internet…but more of that later.

Off we went with the boys in good humour…even Paul Innes! The miles to Inveraray went quickly as we all discussed the revelation that earlier in the morning, Johnny Mac had seen Maureen’s (his maw) minge…actually, thank god we didn’t have the rolls and gammon before we left!

After spending the usual £8 on a roll and a cup of tea in Inveraray we got back on the bus and set off for sunny Campbeltown. Gary, Gigz and Windy had made up a quiz on the subjects of general sport, football and Rolls Royce legends…they knew the boys wouldn’t have a clue but Colin had left them in the lurch. The quiz finished and all the answer sheets were passed to the front where the scores were read out…team names such as “Maureen’s pink pages” and “Maureen’s beef curtains” ensured that Johhny was in for a tough day!

We arrived at Campbeltown (where men are men…and so are the women!) and got ready for the match. The boys got a stern talking to in the dressing room….preparation is everything…they were told about the importance of the game and not to take things easy.

In one ear and out the other as it turns out…pumped 3-1 and lucky it wasn’t more. Powderpuff defending and dodgy goalkeeping by Andy “how many mistakes have I actually made this season” Watson didn’t help. Nor did discovering that Tags had eaten a bag of grout before the game and couldn’t get his legs to move. Johnny Mac played as if the beef curtains were over his eyes and Hagy looked like he had drank his tonic before the game!

Back to the local pub for a pint and a bite to eat, but the boys were in a huff so they left Windy Gaz and Gigz to slaughter them in the pub while they went for a cargo. What a sight when the management got back on the bus half an hour later. Somebody had kidnapped Hagy and left a deranged alcoholic coke head look-alike in his place! Slapping windows and slurring the Rolly song (we think) was the order of the day for the Hagy double…and it was only 5.30. Windy muttered..”better take a collection for the driver the noo”

The trip back to Inveraray was a blur of piss stops and people trying to find a bottle big enough for Greig Kinnaird to pee into. There was also the sight of MJ’s infeasibly large gonads…how does he get a pair of pants to fit him? We had it all….soap rammed up Welshy’s ass…the rape of Cheesy…ach, boys will be boys!
Quick pint stop in Inveraray where Windy asked for a cheeseburger without chips or salad. The woman says “sorry..it comes with chips and salad”…”Windy says “but I don’t want chips or salad..I’ll pay full price though”. “Sorry son” says the wifey…”It comes wi chips and salad”. Windy is now purple with rage…”stick yer cheeseburger” and off he storms back to the bus.

Yeah…I know….why didn’t he just get all the gubbins and only eat the cheeseburger?? Well he is known for his ears, not his brains so take pity on him!

What seemed like a mere 5 minutes later we were back at the village idiot (the pub, not Hagy) and the boys disappeared into the night (apart from the ones that stayed in the pub to start a fight!)…another Campbeltown trip had passed and the boys would soon be tucked up dreaming of how well they had played and look forward to next year.

Doesnt a year fly by thought "The Boss". Didnt seem that long ago (a year) since the EKRR bairns were just passing round the milk and talking to each other about hobbits, goblins and what a great school Hogwarts appeared to be. Now look at them, bum fluff, some designer stubble and even one or two that had their own passport.

The journey up was uneventful till we got to Inverary, when the bold Dunky Kane, obviously stapped for cash went for a swim in the icy waters of Loch Fyne for the sake of a tenner bet. Jeeze i wish he had cashed his giro.We approached Campbeltown and Hagey says "man, that was a long flight", and lots of eyes looked skywards. Never let it be said that the boy never contributes anything to the conversation.

The game itself went well, with "The Rolly" finally winning 7 - 3, and "The Boss" even played his part, coming on for the last 10 minutes (yeah there was no one else to put on), and true to form collected his customary booking explaining to the ref that "I got there as quick as a could".

The Pies were as we remembered and it was off the Carry Oot Shop and much to the surprise of the older crew the young team bought the best White Wine Campbeltown had to offer, and Hagey settled for Bucky.It had turned out a beautiful day, and as we all sat licking the windows and thinking what a lovely country we lived in, there was a cry from the back of the bus "P*** Stop". Jeeze, we were only five minutes out of Cambpeltown, "what kind of bladders do these boys have" cried The Boss as he sipped yet another Bacardi Breezer.

It came to singalongarolly time and the usual suspects were first up, The Boss, Raymie, Smurf opppps wrong decade, first up was Hagey, only discover that when he tried to stand his legs gave way, this only proved that just as water and oil wont mix, neither does Hagey and Bucky. But, just to prove he had more one string to his small bow, he proceeded to do his Indian Rubber man act while walking down the aisle of the bus and shouting "P*** Stop" at the same time.

DAY 1 - THE JOURNEY

October 2007 seen the annual EKRR Invitational Golf Tournament take place in sunny Portugal, Villamoura to be exact, and it was an excited group of eight former players and management who met at Glasgow Airport to begin what was to be an intriguing six days.

The group consisted of the main organiser Paul "Windy" Millar, Gary "Denis" Hay, Colin "The Boss" Thomson, Raymie "Primark" Smith, Ronnie "Alzeihmer" Wilson, Stevie "Wheres the Hanky" McGeachy, Andy "The Cam Man" Cook and last and certainly not least Derek "Pygmy Hippo" Paton.

So there we are, the flight is delayed two hours so "The Boss" takes 20 quid off each of the Motley Crew and we all head to the Bar. As we pass through the duty Free, we all contemplate getting our presents, of course this was only a fleeting thought since the smell of alcohol was more important, except for that well know family man, Windy Millar. To quote "Youse are Aww diddys, better get the prezzies the noo that way you wont forget", so off he went to store up on perfume, more perfume and even something for wee Jock. We headed to the Bar, and with two hours to kill it was soon all bevvy and shit patter, and we are all p***** before we hit the plane. To be fair, the stewardesses were very understanding, even though after the first verse of "We Are The Rolly" we were told not to sing until we were up in the air (I kid you not).

So we arrive, safe and sound, well on our way to the first hangover off the holiday. We pick up the bags and golf clubs (which would have made good firewood), and the mini bus is there waiting. Only 15 miles to the villa, so there we are all p***** and dying for bevvy when Windy pipes up "Shit, Ive left my prezzies on the plane", jeeze we couldnt stop laughing and took great pleasure in not having the good sense to buy our stuff at glasgow Airport.

DAY 2 - THE BARBEQUE

Day two arrived quickly, and the boys got out of bed to find "alzeimhers" up and about starting to cook fried eggs for everyone, but low and behold, he forget where he put the eggs, so we all settled for toast.

Provisons were in short supply, so "the boss" took 30 euros off everyone, even "primark" put his hand in his deep pocket. Off he went to the nearest shop with his mate for the day "the cam man", little realising that a) the shop was only a short flight away, and b) once he stopped talking about his sex life, the "the cam man" hasnt got much to say.

With 200 euros in his sky rocket, "The Boss" is like the proverbial "wean in Sweetie shop" and goes mad running up and down the aisles at the local Portuguese Aldis, with "The Cam Man" in hot pursuit, filling the basket up with chicken, pork, tomatoes, wine, more wine, vodka, lettuce, beer, more wine, kebabs, but, surprisingly no charcoal to keep the BBQ going (see later). "The Cam Man" says "Jeeze Boss, last time I saw this much meat was on holiday in Crete", wise words indeed from the intellectually challenged chap.

Back at the ranch, the shopping bags were emptied as the troops surveyed where all their dough went, and with wetted lips they surveyed a feast no vegetarian would be proud of. Meanwhile, "the Boss" tired after the long walk and listening to "Cam Man" settled down by the pool and opened his first beer of the day, and boy was it good. This was followed by another, then another when the rest of the gang joined him. The wine was opened and the debate started about who was going to cook the BBQ, with the only being sure that it wouldnt be "The Boss" and not because he is half vegetarian (chicken breast only), no it was because he was well on his way to the wrong side of mad with it.

With the light fading the boys try and crank up the BBQ only to realise that even though the money was well spent, there was no f***** charcoal, only fire lighters. So after much pointing of fingers and gathering as much firewood as possible, they departed to the living room for a game of naked twister to help them contemplate who to keep the BBQ going. Apart from "The Boss" who unable to move from his seat, opened another bottle of wine (within arms reach) and dreamed of chicken breast with chips . . .

DAY 3 - THE GOLF PART 1

On Saturday the boys woke up to the smell of, well we wont go there, but it wasnt fresh cooked bacon thats for sure. There was an early tee-off at Laguna Golf Course to be met, and im sure it was easier organising a party for threeyear olds at Macdonalds than getting this lot there on time, and wearing the appropriate golf gear (Primark man take note).

Taxis arrive, and "alzeimhers" conveniently left his money at home (home being a tax haven some where" and its left to the rest to round up enough euros for the fares. "Windy" gets the two-balls sorted out and tosses up a Titlleist 3 and says to "alzeihmers" heads or tails, he shouts "heads" and the rest of us just crease up, and "the Boss" puts this incident down as the reason his golf was so poor . . . . and just to prove he can play better "the boss" is coming back next year so portugal beware

DAY 4 - THE HARBOUR

Sunday, being the Lord's Day was a day of rest for the weary travellers so off they went to say their prayers in a lovely wee boozer down by the harbour. In what was an idyllic setting and the only argument to be heard was about the price of the yachts parked outside.

"One day im coming back and gonna get one of those" said the Primark Man. "One day your gonna come back and buy decent f***** trainers ya d***" said The Boss in a way that only he can. And herith ended the sermon and they trooped back to the Villa where crates of 2 euro wine was consumed and "The Boss" said "cometh all yeah here and we will drink merrily and even Windy will look good" Amen.

DAY 5 - THE GOLF PART 2

The second golf day was the lovely Villamoura Golf Club on a beautiful Monday morning. Well it should have been beautiful apart from "Primark Man" and his new golf attire. Straight out of an Aldis bag. New vest, it ain hal hot mum shorts, and of course the famous "oink oink" trainers.

The golf was so good (for some) with "Dennis" and the "Pygmy Hippo" coming out winners over the two days. After a long winning celebration the gang headed back to the ranch where "The Boss" offered to go and stock up supplies and he was helped by "Windy" and boy did he need help.

Arriving the Portuguese version of Aldis (pronounced Alldeeeeshh) they quickly filled the trolley with cheap plonk and vodka. It was then "The Boss" (still suffering from alcohol induced sunburn) said to "Windy". Windy is it just me or are we the only straight people in the village. Windy turns around and sure enough, there isa lot of hand holding and pecking of cheeks, and that was just the men. Not being one to judge people, "The Boss" says "Windy ya big dafty lets get tae" and even though they were weighed down with bags of booze they made is back to the ranch in jig time. Another eventful day was almost over.

DAY 6 - THAT MAGIC TRICK

The last day of what turned out to be a very arduous Golf Trip was taking up with sunbathing, some more wine, vodka, the Portuguese version of San Miguel and "The Boss" not letting anyone listen to anything other than The Jam or The Clash (who said he has no taste in music).

The highlight of the day was supplied by EKRR's very own Tommy Cooper, some might say David Blain but Tommy Cooper had a better sense of humour (justl like that). Yes, Big Stevie McGeachy, the man with the disappearing hanky performed his trick while standing naked in the pool. "Now you see it" he says, "now you dont". "Where did it go" we allo ask. "He's got two thumbs on one hand" cried the pygmy hippo, "check his bum" slurred Primark Man, "no, the whole thing is a mirage and im blaming the wine" shouted The Boss, "who am I" asked Alzeihmers.

The hanky never appeared and just like the three bears, the boys all fell asleep knowing that it had been a bad dream.

On Saturday 10 Feb 2007, the 1st XI went back to Cambpletown for the first time for four years, and my God how times have changed. It was to be expected since under the "Wee Tashy" regime, the average age of the team has dropped from 30+ to around 20-23, and the chosen drink of choice these days isnt Buckfast but milk, but I kid you not, even "The Boss" was shocked. For as he walked onto the luxury 32 seat coach, with full air-conditioning (a hole in the floor), and state of the art communication system (an old radio), what sights did he see before his eyes.

Well what he didnt see was a group of young men reading nude books and counting their cans for the journey home. He didnt see or hear Wee Deery and Keavney telling anyone who would listen how "good they were". He didnt see Gary Hay licking his lips as he fleeced the young team of their pocket money at a game of Trumps. He didnt see a pished Wee Danny walk under a seat with his top hat on. Nooooooo, what he saw was four young gents listening to their I-Pod. More than a few studying for their up and coming University exams, another reading the Herald, the f***** Herald i ask you (not even one copy of The Sun in sight) and worst of all, the really bad offender, MJ watching the latest Harry Potter adventure on his portable DVD Player.

Having said all that, they are a really nice bunch of guys even if one or two brought their passports with them for "when we cross the border".

In appalling weather conditions they played very well and came away with a 5 - 1 victory with the "hard-working" Petit getting a Brace, and we were treated to fine after match Hospitality by the Campbeltown Boys. After which we headed straight to get supplies for the bus home. "Are we allowed to drink shandy Boss" asked Big Grant? "Should I buy a rug to cover myself in case it gets cold Boss" asked Purdy? "Am I your f***** mother" replied The Boss.

The journey home was eventful to say the least and not just because the Bus Driver knocked down a sheep between Cambpeltown and Tarbet, and he never even had the decency to do a ewe-turn and check out the damage.

The boys were treated to a rendition or two of "We Are The Rolly" from The Boss, and then one of them asked "Who Are The Rolly" DUH. Gavin Millar gave us his rendition of "How Would You Like To Swing On a Star", and like everything else he does he was brilliant.

Many beers were drank, the odd pint of milk, and oh I forgot a couple of cans of shandy before we made it back to good old East Kilbride, and once there the younger members of the squad were all checked out and made sure that their duffle coats were buttoned up and they had all their belongings with them for the short journey from the pub to their homes.

The Team of 2007 are certainly in A League of Their Own.

As we all know it can be a "Funny Old Game". Not just watching the guys on the pitch, but just as importantly, listening to some of the constant chatter that goes on at the side. Mostly from whoever happens to be coaching the team on any given Saturday, but also from the not so large support that frequent some of our games when its too wet to go shopping.

Below are just some of the more "serious" comments and incidents that have been witnessed at EKRR games over the years. The names are correct to punish the guilty.

2nd Team Coach Stevie "why are my shirts getting tighter" Heron was heard to say in one of his first games in charge when he wasnt pleased with some of the team's marking "Right, F***, the BIG guys pick up the BIG guys, and the WEE guys pick up the WEE guys", and just to prove he was talking S****, the opposition went up the park and scored.

No doubt we will be hearing a lot more from the inimitable Stevie as the months go on. In fact its not a doubt, but a certainty.

DAVIE DOOM

As with all football teams, down the years we have no shortage of "characters". Now what defines a "character" is open to interpretation, he may be funny, an individual, be two cans short of a carry-out, or just have certain traits that make him a one-off, and its the "certain traits" category that the infamous Davie Doom falls into.

Davie was a nice lad, and never looked like a football player (and in this case looks were not deceiving), think a 6ft pencil with arms and legs, or a stick of peperami, and you might start to get the picture. But, he was a mad gambler. Not a bad thing you may ask, but he took it to new extremes.

I remember going to an away game and Davie was driving. Thee were four of us in the car and I said "Davie, put the radio and we can listen to the football". Big Dave replies "Its no working, but Ive got some tapes here, Ill put one one". Fair enough you think, hoping his musical taste is better than his dress sense. So, the tape goes in and all you here is "and there off, Shergar has started to make all the running on the nearside . . . ", it was a f***** tape of the 1992 Epsom Derby. Needless to say Shergar won.

You could never get angry with Davie, he looked so ill but on the park, sometimes he had a certain Ted McMinn quality about him, by that I mean he could do things with a ball that no one else could, and he didnt even know he was doing it.

His time at the club came to an when one Saturday he was playing with the first IX and he was on the bench (okay we were struggling). It was a tight game and we were one down so Big Somner says "Davie go get yourself warmed up". Five minutes later Somner says to me "Colin, where the f*** is he". Im looking across the park thinking he was running and stretching to warm up, couldnt see hide nor hair of him. Then I turn to my left and there he is, with a big thick coat on, blowing into his hands. I said "what the f*** are you doing", "Colin" he replies "you told me to get warmed up, I was freezing". Nice lad shame about the brain.

MURDY

There really was only one Ian "Murdy" Murdoch. And you know what, he had a language all of his own as well. Who whoever played with him can forget those classic lines "Gammon Rolls" or in his finest hour "Elastoplast". Yeah, I know your shaking your head, but translated he meant "Come on the Rolls", a great shout in times of crisis, and "At last A Pass", which to be honest he didnt receive very often (or make). Murdy, you retired way to early.

The Road To Argyll can be long and treacherous, and thats just the journey there. Over the years, the club has been involved in many games in such glamarous locations as Oban, Tarbert and last but not least, everybodys favourite, Campbeltown. A lovely wee town on the western outskirts of our great country, where men are men, and women are men. will be recalling some of our more memorable trips, I say some, because let me assure anyone reading this, they werent all memorable.

Below are just some of shenanigans that have made us all laugh on our many Road Trips (told by "the Boss"), the names have been kept the same to punish the guilty.

THE NAKED ELVIS

The Journey There

The last time we visited Campbelltown was in the Spring of 2002. I remember it well, it was as usual, a pissing wet day, and worse, the season was coming to a gloomy end and we were struggling to get a "decent" team to make the trip (no change there then). But, get a team together we did, alright, it wasnt the best, but then again, back then i was grateful for small mercies. So what if it was most of the up and not-so-coming young team. They were fresh, raw, eager, reasonably talented, and much more to the point, "had plenty of money to lose playing cards on the way up" (a quote from Gary Hay).

So off we went, all eleven of us, yeah, eleven, including your old Da, "The Boss" himself. Jeeze my bones stiffened as we climbed the three stairs onto our luxurious 26 seater coach, equipped with air conditioning, which also doubled as a hole in the floor.

The trip was pretty uneventful, some of these lads had never seen as much water, "wheres the beach, Colin" some cried, as we past along the beautiful shores of Loch Fyne. Oh the innocence of it all. Surely it was too much to hope that this mixture of innocence, inexperience and lack of ability could scramble a result that may save our season. I allowed myself to dream for a brief few minutes while trying to digest my roll on sausage recently purchased at Inverary for only £4.

So, we arrived safely and I tapped some of the younger lads money to buy there lemonade for the trip home, and the older guys counted their winnings. We had plenty of time, so we walked over the park. "Christ" said Stuart Blair, Ill never get over the half way line, its f****** huge, and he was right. Never once did he come back into your half, once the whistle went.

The Game

Just before the game kicked-off, the bravado of youth was replaced by wild-eyed fear as we eyed up our huge opponents, Big Andy, Duncan, Donald, Fraser, Morag and the rest, these guys were not just big, they were really big. Soon we were under pressure, losing every 50-50 ball, and even the 70-30 balls we should have won. It looked like a thankless task, and it felt worse than it looked.Campbeltown scored, as expected, but sometimes adversity and tactical genius can overcome many things, and just before the half-time whilstle, the plan to have Stuart Blair stay in the away half for the game (his plan) paid off when he intercepted a pass-back and scored a great goal. Unfortunately this was the last time we would be near the opposing goal, and the home side went on to a comfortable 3-1 victory. Nevertheless it was a learning curve for the boys, and better was to come.

Apres Game

As anyone who has been to Argyll will tell you, the hospitality is fantastic, Campbeltown are great hosts, especially when they beat you, and this day was no exception. The boys enjoyed the pies (real meat), and the bevvy was flowing, in fact, we were having such a good time, Raymie Smith put a fiver on the bar and tried to buy the team a drink. a fiver I hear you ask, well, the last time Raymie bought a round it was only 40p a pint. Anyway a good time was being had by all, and before we Knew it, it was time to stock up on our fizzy pop and crisps for the journey home.

The Journey Home

Now, anyone who has ever travelled with the club to Argyll will tell that sometimes we have a guest or three join us for the trip home. We have been lucky enough to have had Dennis Law on more than one occasion, Elvis Presley has been kown to resurrect himself for the night, and on one occasion, Paul McCartney even popped over from his farm near Campbeltown to give us a song or two, and a very nice man he is too, although I was amazed at how much he looked like Alex Lowe.

This journey was no different. And Elvis was going to be first up for a song. Now at The Rolly, there is only one Elvis, and thats me, but a certain Mr McKinnon seemed to think that it was time for a take over. So I was challenged to a sing-off. The chosen song being "Suspicious Minds". For me it was shooty in, I didnt even need the words, and more to the point I was still sober, and carried the song off with all the grace and ease which the boys have come to expect. So, the bold Mr McKinnon, realising that it will take something special to win the sing-off does, well, something special. Up he staggers to the front of the bus, takes off all his clothes and starts to sing "Suspicious Minds". Contest over. He is the hairiest guy ever to wear the Rolly colours, and truth be told, we all thought it was a grizzly bear singing the song. The singing was p***, but what a laugh. And it became even funnier when the Coach driver took a bend too fast and the "Hairy One" disappeared down the steps of the coach. Fortunately the doors were closed. But it was enough for him to win the competition, there is no way I could compete with that, christ, I wax.

The Confession

After the singing, everything calmed down, Dennis Law made an appearance, and some of the more intoxicated of the young team asked for his autograph, honest. He gave his usual unbiased opinion of the game, stating that Gary hay was the "Man of the Match", must to the disgust of Stuart Blair, who having drunk too much lemonade was now becoming a pain in the ass. He was not alone of course, we had all drunk too much lemonade, because your not allowed to drink alcohol on coaches as we all know.

Of course, someone has to be the worst, and who could it be. Yeah the wee man who has never had a bad game in his life, wee Deary. God he was in some nick. He staggers down to the front of the bus, takes the mike (with both hands), stands up straight. And we are all thinking, "whats this wee dick going to sing". And what does he do, he confesses, yeah confesses. "Right, f*** this, Ill admit it, Ive had crabs". Shit, I was awestruck, ive never met anyone who had crabs, I wanted to shake his hand, then thought better of it.

Things became a wee bit emotional, and I gave the wee guy a number for the Samaritans, and a rope just in case they were engaged. He fell asleep assured in the knowledge that the rest of the guys on the bus were never going to let his secret out.

Before we new it we were back in good old East Kilbride, and we all headed for the pub for a real drink. It had been as it always is, a very eventful trip, and truth be told, I cant wait till we head back up again, its been too long.

VISITORS ONBOARD

The Visitors

Very occasionally, when your going to Argyll, the word gets out among some of the ex-players (and their freinds), and i remember one game in particular, it was about six years ago, and as far as I knew, it was the team plus committee that were travelling to Campbeltown. But, low and behold, when I arrived at the Murray Square to get the bus there were a few "guests". We had Wee Danny (a man so small he could walk under a bed wearing stilts), then much to my surprise there was "Mad Marchy" (a man born totally mad, and delighted that there was no known cure), and last but not least, we had "Two Mooths Duffy" (one mouth just wasnt enough for the Duffster).

So, off we went, the full kit in the boot of the bus, and the cargo at the back, being split up between our happy (for the moment) freinds and supporters. Now, I have to ask myself "who the f*** drinks at this time in the morning apart from a certain member of my family", and then I look again, and think, stupid question.

Inverary

The journey itself was pretty drab and uneventful, that was until we stopped at one of Scotland's favourite towns, Inverary, famous for its jail and eating establishments (£4 a roll on sauage and we wetted out lips as we watched them cooking, I believe inflation is still running at 85% up there). Of course, also in Inverary are one or two hotels, and unfortunately (or fortunately for some), opening time had just arrived. Now, for those who dont know, wee Danny is mad with it after 2 pints, Marchy is mad, and Duffy drinks two pints at the one time (a recipe for distaster and we still had to make the journey home, shit).

After the real athletes had scoffed theirs roll(s) and emptied their wallets, the buss was ready to travel to Campbeltown, but hey, where were our illustrious guests. Only a f****** idiot wouldnt have guessed (and there were a couple), so, the bus duly parked out the George Hotel, and the guests were dragged away from the bar (and it was only 11.30am). Now, call me old fashioned, but this consuming of the Devil's Juice did not bode well in my eyes for the day that was to follow.

Fortunately, "men that are pissed are so easy to beat at cards" (Gary Hay quote), and after they lost their stack they fell into an almost baby-like slumber, much to the relief of the players who were trying to stay focused on the game ahead by counting the sheep as we drove by numerous fields.

Campbeltown was approaching over the horizon, and the babes were stirring for their slumber, in need of what a can only be described as "a pish". So, wee Danny, Marchy and Two Mooths trooped off to ease their pain, so to speak. And watching the three of them standing there, lettting everything blow in the wind prompted one comedian was prompted to comment "f***, looks a terrible case of human cloning gone wrong".

The Game

The game itself was pretty uneventful as I recall, in fact, if Im being totally honest, I cant even remember the score, I really should contact our Club Historian and Keeper of The Archives, the very noble Raymond Smith (aka Swampy). Suffice to say Im sure we lost, but lets not spoil the story by getting too depressed, because there was a lot more happening to get us depressed at another venue. Yes, that day Celtic won the league, Wim Jansen (he of the Derek Little perm), took the Hoops to the title.

Back to the Pub

Being the day it was, not just Saturday (the day Celtic won the league), everyone was warned to be on their best behaviour. But word soon came back of a near riot when Marchy, hair flowing, shades on, walked into a pub and started to sing "Two Popes Gone and the Queen Lives On" and much to his amazement the whole pub turned around replied "doodah, doodah".

This was the sign for the EK boys to get out of Dodge, so off we all trooped to the nearest off -licence to stock up for the long journey home.

Now the licensed traders of Campbeltown have been known to get just a wee bit of bother from some glasgow-based teams (not us of course). So, the off-licenses are heavily protected, steel shutters, cameras, security guards and worse of all, sheep with their heads shaved with razor sharp teeth . . . . . .

March 2006 saw the first ever Rolly European Open Golf Championship being held in not so sunny Spain, near Benalmadena. It turned out to be quite an event, and the golf wasnt too bad either, with Big Gemmill winning the tournament, only because on the 2nd day he was wise enough to bring his flippers and snorkel, and "The Boss" was voted "Most Improved Player". This wasnt the fantastic achievement it would appear for the great man. The reason being, that the last time "The Boss" played golf, his playing partner, Yuri, a one-legged Russian plumber, back-heeled his ball round the course in less strokes than "The Boss" took with all his equipment at his disposal (ooeer missus).

As we all know, what goes on tour stays on tour, but there are questions to be answered:

Who tried in vain to rescue a struggling young lady of the night?

Who among the guys was mugged twice in 10 mins?

Who fell and cracked their skull while peeing outside, trying to protect a falling kebab?

Who is missing a false fingernail?

Who hit the best Iron shot of the week?

And is Dennis Law actually a Welshman?

Answers to the usual email address?

Pics coming soon, and all legal.