Tales From The BER Garden
I spent Christmas 2002 in auld Stoney with my folks. Christmas Day had been the obligatory day of non-stop drinking, and the Christmas Night had not let my consumption slip. A weird and wonderful night was had at the once-upon-a-time AFC stronghold that was the Dunnottar Castle ... you may know it now as Troupers, but could've known it many moons ago as either the Stoney Bar or even Scotties, depending on yer vintage. However, I'm digressing.
Boxing Day, as one may guess, began as a bleary-eyed affair. I had arranged to be picked up by the Beach End Reds on the Stonehaven bypass at the Spurryhillock junction at around 9.30am.
Being true to my normal behaviour, I was "fashionably" late and arrived at 9.35am. I knew I had missed the bus, and thus just sat there in desperation, and actually quite glad that I could saunter on back to my cosy bed and sleep this mother of a hangover off without having to take a trip to Albania-On-Sea, or Dundee as you may know it.
Being true to my normal behaviour, I was "fashionably" late and arrived at 9.35am. I knew I had missed the bus, and thus just sat there in desperation, and actually quite glad that I could saunter on back to my cosy bed and sleep this mother of a hangover off without having to take a trip to Albania-On-Sea, or Dundee as you may know it.
I phoned my faither to get a lift back home, as it was a good half hour's walk back to my folks' pad. As I sat there, watching the ticker on my watch tick past 10.05am, I heard an almighty roar get closer and closer to me.
I looked up, and there, coming round the corner at what sounded like 105mph and in reality about 37mph, was a brown-livery coach whose company name I had never heard of - and indeed have never seen again to this day.
The lights flashed, the horn "pfarped", and the indicator went on to suggest that it was preparing itself to slow down to pick me up. The Beach End Reds were here!
I don't know how long my faither must've driven around searching for me, as my phone battery died about three minutes after boarding the BER Bus. But, after immediately spotting Red Avenger's shining cranium at the door, I forgot my hangover and leapt aboard like a kid on a novelty steam train.
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The lights flashed, the horn "pfarped", and the indicator went on to suggest that it was preparing itself to slow down to pick me up. The Beach End Reds were here!
I don't know how long my faither must've driven around searching for me, as my phone battery died about three minutes after boarding the BER Bus. But, after immediately spotting Red Avenger's shining cranium at the door, I forgot my hangover and leapt aboard like a kid on a novelty steam train.
Wandering down the bus to meet and greet the gang, I was pleasantly surprised to see my fellow DonsTalk comrade-in-arms DandyDon sitting there, munching a McD's breakfast. We shook hands, and exchanged the usual pleasantries of "wiz Suntay good tae ye, min?"
I decided to carry on down the bus to see whose faces I'd be greeted with. Ten rows onwards and all I could see was a sea of unrecognisable reprobates, heartily scoffing "lemonade" from "lemonade bottles". I did not recognise a single face.
Then, from behind the back seat, the cheeky wee grins of Cuervo and Dandy_fae_Cullen emerged, quaffing a beverage from a coke bottle that had those distinctive brown foam marks on it. As a member of the "Official Stoney Steamers' OVD Tour" of Denmark two summers previously, I knew exactly what that bottle contained.
I decided to carry on down the bus to see whose faces I'd be greeted with. Ten rows onwards and all I could see was a sea of unrecognisable reprobates, heartily scoffing "lemonade" from "lemonade bottles". I did not recognise a single face.
Then, from behind the back seat, the cheeky wee grins of Cuervo and Dandy_fae_Cullen emerged, quaffing a beverage from a coke bottle that had those distinctive brown foam marks on it. As a member of the "Official Stoney Steamers' OVD Tour" of Denmark two summers previously, I knew exactly what that bottle contained.
Two dozen faces were what entertained me for the journey to Albania-On-Sea, which surprisingly seemed to take around five minutes.
Upon our arrival at Clepinton Road's finest segregated public house, we enjoyed a good auld singsong with the Red Ultras, who found great voice in milking the fact that one of their members was sporting a magnificent hairstyle. I believe the song went to the tune of "That's Amore", and said "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie ... that's a mullet". Cracked a laugh out of me every time it was sung.
Upon our arrival at Clepinton Road's finest segregated public house, we enjoyed a good auld singsong with the Red Ultras, who found great voice in milking the fact that one of their members was sporting a magnificent hairstyle. I believe the song went to the tune of "That's Amore", and said "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie ... that's a mullet". Cracked a laugh out of me every time it was sung.
Morning rolled towards afternoon, and some new faces were put to some old names as we met with the likes of Slim and TopTierTotty - a fine mortician of a lass who Cuervo repeatedly called "a dirty, dirty lady!".
The upstairs of the Centenary Bar was now in full swing, as an entire level of Dons fans found their voices time and time again, right up until fifteen minutes before kickoff, wherein we all departed for Dens.
The upstairs of the Centenary Bar was now in full swing, as an entire level of Dons fans found their voices time and time again, right up until fifteen minutes before kickoff, wherein we all departed for Dens.
En-route to Stadia Magnifica, we were entertained by a wandering Arab fan who had obviously spent his Yinitid bus money on a bottle of White Lightning. Our tangerine friend proceeded to stagger and sway his way towards the passing Aberdeen fans, shouting all manner of obscenities at us, although in the usual incomprehensible Dondohnian accent. Just as he got into full voice, he tripped and fell off the kerb and onto a police car that had crept up behind him. Officer Plod made no hesitation in ushering our obnoxious little friend into the car and away to a safe cell for "questioning".
The day progressed to the match itself, where we maintained our fine fine form at Dens with a 2-1 win. It was no spectacle of football, believe me. But a win is a win, even with Phil McGuire netting the only credible goal of the game.
Having been rather disappointed that the route back to the bus did not encompass another quick swifty in the Centenary Bar, especially as our mates from the Stirling Reds were heading that way, my mind was too foo' with the copious amounts of OVD 'n' coke consumed earlier in the day to realise that I really did need to "go". I duly stepped onboard the BER Bus not realising it'd be a full two-and-a-half hours until we were back in the People's Republic.
Well, Forfar passed on by, and I couldn't ignore my urge to pass water. A quick visit to the John would sort that out, surely. Half an hour later, and I emerged with a smell following me that rendered the bus toilet "Out Of Order" for the remainder of the journey ... an act that spelled the end of my love affair with the Beach End Reds and their tour bus.
With the bus slowing down for the Spurryhillock junction at Stoney, I upped my bag, said my farewells and began my retirement from the day's festivities. Or so I thought.
"Ye can surely handle a few more at the Dutch, min!" called the shiny-headed one. "Bus driver, carry on!"
And with that, my faither was left, not for the first time that day, wondering why the hell his son was not at the Spurryhillock junction awaiting a lift home.
And so to the Dutch, where a number of us descended upon and cranked up the jukebox. One song that certainly did do the rounds time and time and time again was The Stone Roses' marvel "I Wanna Be Adored", a song whose lyrics had by the end of the night been wickedly warped into "I wanna be a Don!". The delight on Red Avenger and Dandy_fae_Cullen's faces were priceless, although the weariness of hearing the same song for the fourteenth time in a row was beginning to show on the face of auld Cuervo.
Nevertheless, the night progressed into more drunken tales of how the Dons used to be. A wee look at the watch revealed I had not only missed the last train to Stoney, but also the slow-bus too! A taxi was the only means home, although how I got from the Dutch to a taxi lane was beyond my memory.
Apparently, I was last seen wandering down Justice Mill Lane, chasing seagulls.
Apparently, I was last seen wandering down Justice Mill Lane, chasing seagulls.