Tour Report - Page 1

PROLOGUE

Simon Brown awoke with a start. He sat up in bed and looked around. Home at last. The pressures of tour behind him, finally he could relax and look forward to his accountancy exam that afternoon. He smiled. No more hassle from people to join in with what everybody had referred to, bizarrely, as 'banter'. No more pretending to find Pierce's jokes amusing, and, best of all, no more bolting pints of freezing cold lager just because some irritating git like Evans had dropped a Euro coin in his glass. He crept back under his duvet, chuckling quietly as he pulled out his copy of Auditing for Intermediates…

A few miles away, A.N. Other finally succumbed to the wishes of his beautiful fiancee and, after one final kiss, put his European Player trophy back in the safe. Beaming with pride, he motioned towards the bedroom, only to stop suddenly in his tracks, the smile evaporating from his face. He dashed back towards the safe. Falling to his knees he hastily unlocked the door and thrust his hand inside. The smile returned to his face as his fingers clasped round the trophy once more. "I'll never let you go", he whispered to himself. "With your help I'll show them. Just wait. I know I can make the 1 XI next season. And then, maybe, that trial at the Albion could be mine…."

Alistair Lindsay grimaced as he pulled the ring off the can of Stella Artois lager he had just grabbed from the fridge. He gulped hard as the cold lager hit the back of his throat and then opened the curtains to survey another morning in plush Islington. He was glad to be back home. The tour had not seen Ali at his best on the football field, culminating with an embarrassing moment in the Saturday match when his lungs failed him as he swung his leg towards the ball, only to slip comically forward in sheer exhaustion into the watery gravel pitch. He tossed the now empty can into the bin and, as he pulled another from the fridge, he allowed himself a little smile as he recollected the moment when he had bought the ridiculously large lollipop. How everyone had laughed. What a gag…..

Relieved to have the day off, Adam Pierce flicked on the TV. Kilroy was in full swing as the LOBFC club captain slurped his coffee and cast his mind back to the previous four days. He squirmed with embarrassment at the recollection of how he had refused a beer at the pre-match meal on the first evening by explaining to his team mates that he "did not see what benefit it would give him". A serious blunder, which had surprisingly failed to register in the Tour Bore stakes. A happier memory was the crisply struck shot which brought the boys level in the Saturday match. A stranger one was the post-dinner conversation on the final night, when debate centred around the advantages of eating a prison (strawberry flavoured) or living inside a dog for a year. But, as the credits for Kilroy rolled, Adam knew that he had been successful in one respect. He had definitely looked better than Ev in the comedy Speedos…

Oli Bailey was a relieved man as he sifted through the mail. He knew that he had got away with murder, as popular Billy Cullen pipped him to the Tour Bore award on the final morning. Retiring to the hotel at 10pm on the final night was a capital offence, and he knew that only his organisational skills in setting up the tour had saved his skin. Drawing on his 14th cigarette of the morning, he shuddered at the thought, grinding his butt into the ashtray as his raspberry pop tarts flew out of the toaster…

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