Bingo, Old Biddies, And Three Points

Bingo, Old Biddies, And Three Points

Barry begs the question as to whether there is anything more to worry about when travelling away with the ‘Lads: hostile pub receptions; putting your life in danger walking on ‘foreign’ turf; being intimidated by the home supporters loaded with bellies full of ale; and so on.

Well, according to Tosh, there is, and it all happened when he and his missus, plus other madcap Valiants, made the trip south to watch the ‘Lads turn out against AFC Bournemouth.

We’ll let him tell you his story.


Bingo, Old Biddies, And Three Points

We arrived just after lunchtime
In our trusty little car,
And the mission I was charged with
Was to go and check the bar,
But the place was very quiet
I could have slept forty winks,
And I noticed, to my horror,
Five quid wouldn’t buy two drinks.

The afternoon saw other guests
Arrive in dribs and drabs
And we just knew, without a doubt,
They were nowt do with the ‘Lads,
Their step was short, their pace was slow,
And their years had seen it all,
But little did we realise
They were here to have a ball.

Then when the other Valiants,
In our madcap little group,
Had checked into their hotel rooms
It was out to buy a scoop,
And by the time we got to Yates’,
In search of another jar,
It was ten quid each per hour
We were putting on the bar.

It’s true we had a drink or three,
Or maybe four or more,
And I even danced with Val, my wife,
But what, I’m not quite sure,
Then in the very early morn,
Nursing hangovers of course,
We found our bed was littered
With salad and chilli sauce.

We stumbled to the dining room
For a breakfast of baked beans,
Well, seven beans to be exact –
A children’s serve it seems,
A sauna plus a swim was next
To clear our drunken fog,
Then off to Weatherspoons we went
To find ‘the hair of a dog’

The game against the Bournemouth Boys
On October twenty two
Was played in weather fine and clear
And we were there to view
A first half poor, the second great,
Plus a win to give us cheer,
And Billy Paynter’s late strike goal
Gave rise to another beer.

Much later on, at our hotel,
We scrubbed up top to toe
Then went down to the Fountain Room
To play the ‘House Bingo,
Yes, we joined the dear old biddies
In a hushed and sombre tone,
That is until ‘The Thunderbirds’
Rang out on a mobile ‘phone.

The night rolled on, our stomachs growled,
So into the night we flew
To find ourselves a curry house
And a chicken vindaloo,
Our meal consumed we rushed right back
To the Fountain Room once more
To join those dear old biddies,
And to dance upon the floor.

The man who held the microphone
Wore a satin shirt of red,
And he tried to look much younger
With a grey wig on his head,
But when he tried to move his hips
With a Robbie Williams pace
That wig would slip from side to side,
Or cover up his face.

They may have missed the breakfast gong,
Even struggled to make lunch,
But when the moon and stars were out
They were a lively bunch,
I’m talking about those biddies
With their step and pace so slow,
They were strutting on the dance floor
And the highlight of the show.

There was one other pensioner,
A little short up top,
She sang some operetta themes
And simply would not stop,
She smiled and waved her arms around
And sang in a dulcet tone,
Whilst on that crowded dance floor
She waltzed around alone,

‘One flew over the cuckoo’s nest’
Would best describe that night
And I was really stressing it,
For it truly was a fright,
But when the midnight hour arrived
We joined the biddies jig
To music from old Humperdink
Sung by him with a funny wig.

Barry Edge
Western Australia
October 27, 2005


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