My memories of Wembley and London are centred around a set of handcuffs (not Metropolitan Police, but fake shop issue). This is how the story goes......
Naturally, we all decided to make a weekend of it, so on the Saturday morning we all boarded the bus outside the pub armed with all the necessities for a long bus trip - cans of strong lager, a pack of cards, a selection of dirty magazines and a blow up sheep. After a couple of hours on the bus and a few drinks, the perv sitting at the back of the bus suddenly put his "jazz mag" down and delved deep into his sports bag. "First one to fall asleep gets these!" he exclaimed. On turning round, there we all saw the aforementioned handcuffs for the first time. Now, I don't know about you, but when I pack an overnight bag, handcuffs don't usually appear on any of my lists: "ah, let me see - toothpaste, clean undercrackers, clean socks, soap, handcuffs......."
We arrived at our hotel by Saturday afternoon and by some stroke of bad luck, I was left with the room next-door to the perv with the handcuffs (don't you just hate it when that happens? Eds ) We had a couple of hours kip and then got ready to sample what the Big City had in store for us simple Northern folk.
Beginning in Soho (I wonder whose idea that was?), we unsurprisingly met other Carlisle United fans with the same idea. Once we'd had our skinful of warm, flat beer, we caught the last train back and located a curry house. Now, this is where things start to get a bit hazy. The next thing I know, I'm waking up with not a great deal of movement from my right arm. It doesn't take a genius to work out why. Yes, my right hand had been hilariously handcuffed to a bloody chair. Not being able to shift the cuffs, I had to set about dismantling the chair with a spoon (a bit farfetched but completely true) and go next to in order to get the key for this new piece of jewelry adorning my wrist. "I haven't got the keys. Someone has taken them" came the reply from Merv the Perv (you know who you are, James Donahue). I managed to borrow a knife from the hotel and back in my room I finally managed to get the bloody things off. Keeping them safely in my pocket, an idea for a joke suddenly hit me while we were taking in our pre-match refreshments in the bar. Getting the handcuffs back out, one shackle went around my wrist and the other around my blow-up sheep's tail. She's not getting away from me. Part two involved the buying a packet of condoms and placing one up the sheep's rear. Yeah, I know - I am trying to keep it as clean as possible. On entering the bar I announced "that was some party last night". Unfortunately, there were a number of Birmingham City fans who had made their way into the room while I had been out and they spent the next few minutes giving me some extremely worried looks.
Off to another pub soon after where United and City fans mixed in an excellent atmosphere. While the beers were being supped, many photographs were taken and many stories were swapped. On commenting on the lack of Blue Noses sported by the Brummie fans, one kind gent produced a blue nose from his pocket which he proceeded to give to me. For some unknown reason, it stayed on my nose while the sheep with a durex protruding from it's "love canal" remained cuffed to my wrist. On the way to the game, each police officer was greeted with "you haven't got a spare key, have you mate?". The looks they gave me really made my day.
So, if you were there at Wembley and happened to see the Carlisle fan handcuffed to a sheep with a condom hanging out of it's posterior, that was the reason why. see you this year.
PS. Anyone got any photos of me that I could have?
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