Joe Hawkins goes to City - shameless

Now my two fellow travellers decide that they’ll meet at noon in Manchester for this one. Well there is no way that I’m making two shandies last five hours so I jump a later train – the 12.10 or summat!

There is a fair smattering of Latics’ lads on there including (amazingly) some young lads in decent trainers. You’re almost there lads – just ditch the parrothead haircuts. Trainers look alright with lads with long hair, crops and bald heads. The world’s your oyster – just ditch the Robbie Williams boyfriend look and you’ll be fine, eh.

So it’s off the train at Salford, up to Kendals, across the road to Waterstones, through to Ran, up to Size? then up the escalators in M&S and that’s the first bit of the window shopping (and ten minutes) done!
Up Market Street, avoiding freaks, geeks, lefties, bible bashers and check out East European minxes in the lingerie section of TK Maxx. It’s then around the back into Tib Street and the holy grail that is Oi Polloi with Nige and the lads telling me that the yellow K Way kagoul will look good in Wigan!
Could have bought the shop if a) I was loaded and b) it fitted me.

And then thankfully another mate bells me and is in the Waldorf. Time to knock this shopping lark on the head and have a glass of pop.
How do Colleen and Alex do it?

The Waldorf is full of City, we keep ourselves to ourselves before meeting others in The Castle. Well I do – they won’t let my mate in as he has his lad and his lad’s mate with him. Licensing rules or summat. Which is fair enough if The Castle didn’t contravene every other Health & Safety rule there is! There’s water dripping in, the bogs are flooded and the place is genuinely filthy. Ah, home from home.
Anyhow there is a nice little chips and rice girl serving that cannot speak a word of English. She also cannot add up. Dare not think how much the till is down when she finishes her shift. I did her twice but, hey c’est le vie and all that Italian nonsense.
A swifty in that Kettle place and then the walk up to the Chatsworth estate for the game.

Personally I don’t get City. There is no atmosphere at all about the place. Now if you stand on the bridge at Latics ten minutes before kick off there is a buzz about the place. They get twice as many as us but they all seem to be just going out of duty. People are getting out of cabs and pottering from pubs but it just doesn’t seem to mean anything. I may be wrong. They may raise themselves for certain games but against us I’ve never been impressed at their place. At ours they were fine and came out with my favourite chant of the year – when our East Stand massive gave them the “Where were you when you were shit?” stuff – they to a man, woman, boy and girl gave it the “Feed the Goat and he will score”. To which 75% of our lot hadn’t a clue! At their gaff there is a sort of singing section to our right that don’t sing and for once I even join in a couple of ours. I leave the “Luis Antonio” Culture Club one alone as firstly it doesn’t scan and secondly I’m not singing a Boy George tune. Last time I saw that twat was in the Electric Ballroom when a mate of mine hit that bastard mate of his Marilyn. That’s another story for another day! But hey let the kids do what they want – and if it isn’t nicked off some other club then good luck to ‘em.
The other thing about the City fans is their banners. Not as many as last time out and thankfully I couldn’t see the Wigan City one about but there was one that said “Manchester Massive this is our Home” which is ironic on so many levels. Then there was the “Prawn-free Zone” one that every time you looked at it your eyes were diverted to the hundreds of executive lounges behind them. But hey, bless ‘em.

As for the game – pretty dull. They passed it about a bit with no end result. Stephen Ireland’s wig is even more “wiggy” in the flesh and that keeper Joe Hart is a cunt. It was good to play on grass. Valencia was excellent and Kirkland is a different keeper since Nigel Spink arrived. We keep it tight then have a go in the last ten. Should and could have won it. The excellent Sgt Wilson Palacios squandered the best chance but in football-cliché speak: “We’d have settled for a point before the game, for sure.”
On leaving the Chatsworth it’s bucketing down. Oh how I laugh as those divvies that have come without coats have to brave the monsoon. A wise man once said: “There is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing.” He was right. I pull the zip up on my Peter Storm and tread through puddles in my Walsh runners and arrive in The Wheatsheaf, off Oldham Street, relatively dry. At this point it would be unkind to mention the Mudhutter that chose to wear a very nice pair of cream suede trainers to the match. Four words: Read The Weather Forecast

Well we settle on a quiet couple before two city fans bowl in. they’re okay – well the one that isn’t beaked up to the gills is! They are fair enough but I have to chuckle when I ask them where they are from and they reply: “Stockport.”
Some things never change. Like us never losing to City in the Premier league

It is now P6 W4 D2 L0 F11 A4 (cheers YOTAC for info)
Bring on the Arsenal on the JJB meadow