Evening gents. Footy is nearly upon us again and what better way to end this ruddy saga than to have Johnathan regale us with another episode from the chronicles of Bud Zola…
Me and an associate did Everton away in a clapped out Suzuki swift once. 2005 to be exact. The heating was knackered and he froze his Jacobs off but he was driving. I kicked back with some Jamaican old Holborn and the journey passed me by for some reason. I was probably gazing out over the endless countryside on the trip north thinking of our unbeaten start. It was bloody October!!! Unbeaten!!! Great times as always being chelsea mid to late naughties. I think I always say this but it was literally fantasy football for us.
Arriving early we spotted a Lidls supermarket. It’s closed, it’s a Sunday so we parked up free of charge as per the signage. The second we stepped out of the car, the doors to a pub opposite burst open and out ran the quintessential scouse oik tracky n’all. He scurried up to us… (scouse accent) “twooo quid to park ere’ mate” and held out his hand. Well, I was as high as a Georgia pine by the time we’d reached Liverpool and I just burst in to hysterics and rolled around on the gravel clutching my sides. My friend put an end to this bizarre business meeting by referencing the state of the car and letting him know that he’d be doing us a favour if he torched it.
I have to say, this put me in the best of moods and our route to the ground took us past a green grocers so I dipped in (pun intended) and grabbed myself a few clumps of celery. The steward searched me on the way in and said “what’s that for?” I said “for throwing about and that”. He was baffled. It baffles me to be honest.
Why did James Beattie always turn in to fucking Ronaldo when he played Chelsea? That day was no different and he bagged one. I had a real dislike for him he always seemed overly fired up for games against us I don’t know why he hated us so much. Anyway forget that lump. Super Frank equalised about ten minutes in to the second half. Classic effortless Lampard precision from the edge of the box.
Here we go out comes the celery. CELERYYYYYY CELERYYYYYY!!! Everyone’s bouncing around there’s veg flying about and i’m lord of the manor right now. I break off the crispest most beautifully green and leafy stick of celery you’ve ever seen in your life, cock my arm back…. GRAB. I turn my head round and it’s a copper… and he’s got me by the wrist.
“What are you doing!?” He bellows as the celery bounce ignites, the fuel being the police presence now on the scene.
“THROWING CELERY MATE!” I said all respectful like.
“You’re hitting your own supporters” he says. There’s that look again. The one the steward on the door gave me.
“That’s the idea innit” I explained. “Here, throw one, you’ll be a legend” but he didn’t take it. What he did take was me, down the front, and along the back of the goal mouth to the exit in the corner of the ground.
I went jovially if anything. Two of them had me by the arms behind my back but they weren’t rough or anything. The entire walk along that touch line I was looking up at the Park End stand and to quote Martin Tyler I was drinking it in. Thousands and thousands of irate, hate-filled, spitting scouse faces and it was all for me. All directed at me. Again, absolutely hilarious and I was creasing up the entire time. So were the two coppers.
I didn’t have any ID on me whatsoever which was a touch. Quick 5 minutes of fame on the police camcorder talking head interview thingy and I was looking for a pub to watch the rest of the game. Jesus Christ I stepped in to this dive that was as rough as arseholes. The game was on, I didn’t have colours and I shit you not I ordered a pint in an Irish accent. I also did not move a muscle when Drogba found the net late on. It got disallowed unfortunately but I wasn’t celebrating even if it had stood. I’d pushed my luck enough for one day.
Leant against the car (fully intact by the way the little chancer) waiting for my mate to get back from the game I was looking down at my phone when all of a sudden WALLOP!!! A big lump of celery smashed me in the face. I looked up and there he was dancing around at the end of the car park celebrating his bullseye with the objects of my ejection.
CELERYYYYY CELERYYYY he sings
“Yeah you’re driving who’s laughing now dick head!?”
We both burst in to laughter as soon as we sat in the car. “The whole end was giving it to you!” He said… “yeah” I said… “quality hate that was… stop at the first garage I need some rizla”