After a torrential down pour on the way to the train station I wasn’t quite convinced buying tickets to the Boks game, in the new South Stand, on the third tier, without a roof, was the best idea. Nevertheless, I boarded the train, along with all the other colourful Saffas that appeared from the Raynes Park woodwork.
After buying my droëwors from the”Springbok and Rose” Pub/Shebeen/House, which perfectly resembled a common architectural feature in Cape Town, and arming myself with a couple pints of beer I was ready for the embarrassment that I thought might follow.
My mate, Ben, and I introduced ourselves to our neighbours, “T-Bone” and “Wimples”, and cracked open a couple more… plastic beer bottles!
After a disappointing 14-3 start to the game Wimples and T-Bone didn’t look as happy as they did before the game. However, in a remarkable turn of events, instead of the rain pouring down on us, the drop kicks did.
At half time the score was 14-16 to the Springboks. Yes please!
Some boozed Saffa tosser in front of us felt it was a good idea to now start rubbing the score into some of the Pommies surrounding us. A little premature I thought. Then he attempted mooning the Poms. His Aussie bird quickly stopped that though, by pulled tightly on his chain.
The second half, saw more drop kicks, plastic beer bottles, and drunken insults. Once Pretorious sealed the deal, with another pin-point accurate drop kick, the Poms started to leave the stadium, in their hundreds, before the final whistle was even blown! A very satisfying sight.
What followed that was all a bit sketchy. However, I do remember a few things about the night:
- Bumping into Wimple and T-Bone at the “Cabbage Patch”, and having more beers, this time in pint glasses.
- Ben attempting to rugby tackle me in the CB pub, of course failing, but managing to tick off the big-ass, Scottish, security guard. The big-ass Scottish Security Guard did tell us off, but was in fact a nice enough fella. He even let us take a photo with a South African scarf around his neck. Bless him.
- Three of our female friends swapping their rather small Bok jerseys, with three rather large boozed England supporters. Needless to say they were rather tight fighting.
- Meeting a grey-haired South African gentleman who works in Kazakstan. I obviously attempted some Borat lines, which I’m sure he had heard a few hundred times before.
- A customary stop at the Walkabout in Wimbledon where I think I lost my glasses. Bleak Mark.
8 responses
Mark, I also bought droewors from there, that guy made a killing! I snuck round the back below the dogs and took a slash against the wall. The dogs were staring at me the whole time and everyone on the other side of the fence watching this thought I was the craziest oke alive. Seriously it looked like the dogs were about to jump down and take me out. I was strong though, finished what I went there to do, staring down a Rottweiller whilst doing it!
Yeah what a game, and an awesome run down of events. Nice one Mark.
I didn’t know you wore glasses. Glad the weather held up and the Boks (they were the ones playing, hey?) managed to trump those poms. Ahh, the sound of things to come… 🙂
Dave:
Balls of Steel. Them rotties were well scary. Plus the fact you could have got fined 80 pounds for pissing in public. I chose the portapotties, which I’m sure someone was trying to turn over whilst I was in there! Luckily I got out fast.
Wezzo:
What a game indeed! How did the Chumpstylers celebrate?
Mandz:
I only wear glasses to see things really far away. Like the old accounting slides in Beattie Hall, and rugby players a few hundred meters away! I guess I’ll have to buy some binoculars though. Cheaper than spec savers! Looking forward to your visit.
oooo marky mark’s a boffin-type with specs and all! But you get boozed at rugby so YAY! So jealous about you all going. i sat with grandma and watched the second half in stuffy smokey flat. ok so i was making it smokey. I was too scared of heading “down the pub” and being ‘The Only SA In The Village’.
Yeah, I know but I snuck round the back of that container that the guy was selling droewors out of, right below the dogs, nobody could see me except the people in the beer tent next door, and of course the rottweilers!
Granny Wrangler
My actual classification is “boffin jock”. It’s a great mix.
Dave
You better hope them rotties weren’t specially trained police dogs, they could have been hired for crowd control, or been part of the “piss prevention” task force. You never know!
Your bill might be on its way in the post!
THe pommies leaving made it. The SA commentators were taking the micky out of the ref for the towel-under-the-bum move he pulled after losing his boot. “This is a real man’s game, mate” or something hehe.