Moston Brook AFC

MOSTON BROOK EURO TOUR - OSTEND 2005

Day 1 - The journey from Hell

We started the weekend with Mr Rogers party 15 minutes late for the 4.00 a.m. departure from Chorlton Street bus station. 5 hours later we arrived...at Birmingham Services, after pick ups at Stockport, Lymm, Warrington, Hanley, Stafford, Cannock, Wolverhampton, Dudley and Birmingham. We then had a 30-minute stop where we all paid for our breakfasts, except for Barry Rogers who forgot to pay. Back on board the coach, next stop Medway Services and finally on to Folkestone Euro Tunnel. On arrival our jovial bus driver, the Leslie Niellson lookalike tells us, that we would be boarding the train in 10 minutes. One hour later we are still waiting on the car park, eventually we are on board for the 35-minute crossing.

Once in France we are told by our driver that it will take approx. 2 hours to get to Ostend but we have an opportunity to stop at the Chocolate Factory for cigs & booze. We have a show of hands to see if we stop, 2 want to stop, 48 don't want to stop, so we stop. What happened to majority rule? We arrive at our hotel in Ostend at approx. 7.30 local time, our rooms are allocated Dave Kinder, Charlie Macmillan & Mike Melia in the OAP room, Danny Jackson & Paul Smith next door, Tom Costin & Andy Crossfield, Ian Field & Barry Rogers, Dave & Mike Fox, Andy Feeke & Chris Melia and lastly John Ferns & Damian McStravick. We arrange to meet back in the bar at 8.30, just time for a shower, shit & a shave. We taste our first Belgian beer at about 8.30 while we wait for our opposition manager to arrive, he then takes us across the road to their local, the aptly named "Twilight Bar". A couple of drinks while we assess what we presume to be tomorrow's opposition, a group of pony tailed hippies, and then it's off for something to eat.

Now there are quite a few nice eateries in Ostend, but we decide to jump into the first one we come to, a seedy looking Kebab house, on our arrival the owner starts rubbing his hands with glee. He's never had so many people in the joint at once; his takings will quadruple for the year. During the meal Chris Melia wakes up and gives us his Winston Churchill "on the beaches" speech about tomorrow's game, we leave the place with the owner counting his Euro's.

Back on the streets of Ostend we decide to look for the red light district, having no luck we decide to visit one of the many bars in the town centre, at this point the party gets split up and goes their separate ways. The Belgium Lager is now flowing freely and as we sit outside it starts to rain so we make a hasty retreat back to the hotel bar where we meet up with the rest of the party.

More Belgium Lager, more rants from Chris Melia about the first team players pulling the rest through in the following days match, sorry today's match. Mike Melia was suitably impressed because he had dropped off to sleep, on awakening he left the bar and we presumed he had gone to bed, only for him to return some time later with a Doner Kebab takeaway, all of which he can remember nothing about the following morning. After one or two more pints it's time to hit the sack after what had been a long day.

Day 2 - The match

In the OAP room we rise at about 9.30, just time for a quick wash before going down for breakfast, on our way down we knock on next door to see if they are up. Paul Smith answers the door and we are greeted with a pungent aroma only to find Danny Jackson had not bothered with his bed but had spent the night on the bathroom floor, not only had he thrown up all over the floor and then rolled all over it. Obviously we left him there and went down for breakfast where Chris Melia joined us. The five of us enjoyed our breakfast before taking an early morning stroll along the promenade in the beautiful morning sunshine. We decide to stop for drinks at a café on the promenade, coffee, milk shake & water only, don't forget we have a match this afternoon. After a relaxing half-hour it is time to make our way back to the hotel to meet the rest of the players and see if Danny is up. On our return Danny has made it on to his bed but is still dead to the world. We are due to be met by Michel, the opposition manager at 2.00p.m. It is 1.55 and still no sign of Danny; it's a good job Michel is late. At 2.15 Danny surfaces and Michel arrives, we order taxis and are on our way. On route we pass by the greasy spoon we had eaten at the previous night, pointing it out to our taxi driver, he came back in perfect English "shite" enough said.

The sun was shining and it was very hot, not ideal conditions for football, especially with the amount of lager we had put away the previous night. The pitch was not the best surface especially down the middle but it was enclosed and the changing facilities were good even if the toilets weren't. There were a number of games being played on adjacent pitches all of which were ladies matches, no shortage of takers who wanted to swap shirts even before our game had started.

The game kicked off and the opposition soon took control of the game and it took a while before Moston got into their stride. The referee was very fussy with a number of innocuous challenges by Moston and from a dubious free kick the opposition took the lead, they continued to control the game and only the post and John Ferns prevented them from increasing their lead. Eventually we got going and created a couple of chances before Mike Melia joined the fray, he slowed our game down to his pace, walking pace, and we started to play some nice football. Just before half time Ian Field, without his cap and Damian McStravick were introduced but we were still trailing by 1 goal to 0. In the second half our superior fitness paid dividends and there was only one team likely to score. Soon into the second half and Damian got the curly finger sign to come off and was replaced by Barry who shortly afterwards got the curly finger sign to come off and back on again and off again. No wonder Charlie's got no mates! At this stage we were pressing forward looking for the equaliser and were rewarded when Ian Field went in bravely, won the header and was able to stroke the ball into an empty net. What followed next was that world famous "pull em to one side" goal celebration, Moston pressed forward for the winner but to no avail and the final whistle went with score 1-1. It was agreed to decide the match on penalties, which we went on to win 4-3.

There is just time for a quick drink in the clubhouse before we order taxi's to take us back into town. We all congregate in the American Bar, which has Sky, to watch the United game and just arrive in time to see Scholesy score the first of four. Barry and Smithy are more interested in playing musical chairs in their attempt to eye up the waitress than watch the match.  

Back to the hotel for a quick wash and then eight of us are out for something to eat, not a Doner Kebab, we decide to sample the food in the Scottish Bar of which I can recommend the Scottish salmon, not sure whether it has ever seen Scotland though. Its back on the streets of Ostend looking for a decent bar, Fernsy eyes up the American Pole dancing club and after a lengthy deliberation we decide to give it a go and pay the 5 Euro entrance fee. The dog on the door, canine variety not female, takes a dislike to Damian and has to be calmed down by the dog on the door, female variety not canine. Apart from two Germans we are the only ones in the club until the rest of our party decide to pop their heads in. The beer is a bit expensive in here double the normal price. After watching the three girls perform their acts Barry Rogers decides he can do better and persuade the bouncer to let him have a go. Cue the music, start the smoke machine and enter Barry, up the pole, in front of the mirror, Barry puts in the best performance of the day. Even the two Germans are impressed and try to slip some money down his kecks, Barry makes a hasty retreat and we decide to move on.

We all meet up in the Twilight bar where Tom Costin cops off with a long curly blond haired piece; it's only when he turns round we notice the beard and moustache.

The first group back at the hotel find the bar closed but the guy on reception does not take much persuasion to open up for them. As the lager flows freely again one or two decide to hit the sack, Fernsy decides to do a Mike Melia and falls asleep in the chair, not a good idea as the graffiti artists at work on his head.

Damian some how persuades the barman to open up the swimming pool, definitely not a good idea because half a dozen decide to go skinny-dipping. The barman decides to join in the fun and starts lobbing ice cubes from the balcony onto the skinny dippers below, Mike Fox retaliates by throwing a plastic chair at the balcony windows. In the mean time Danny decides to hide Barry's clothes. Barry returns to the bar area and is promptly told by the barman he cant stay in the bar with no clothes on, so Barry puts his shoes & socks on and orders a pint. Surprisingly the barman serves him, I don't know who paid for it, mind you it's not the first thing he has had free this weekend & it won't be the last. At 3.30 I think its time to hit the sack.

Day 3 - The journey from hell II

The OAP room is again first to rise and are met at breakfast by Ian Field & Chris Melia. After breakfast its back to the room to finish packing and then a walk through the town centre, it is quite busy even though it is raining. The coach is due to pick us up at the hotel at 2.00p.m. and it is bang on time. We board the coach and we are on our way, first stop the Chocolate factory, no vote this time, back on the coach we make our way to Calais. We have a 30-minute stop for something to eat & duty free shopping, back on the coach, but we have to wait for someone, you guessed it, Barry Rogers. This means we are 15 minutes late and things are going to get a lot worse. As we prepare to go through passport control, the driver tells we us we will be required to leave the coach and produce our passports at the desk. He then informs us that customs have checked the luggage hold and are not happy with what they found and that we would have to take our own baggage to be checked individually. We join the queue at passport control and then are told to wait outside customs. Mike Fox is ushered through, followed by Dave Fox, then Ian Field who is promptly stopped, is it the cap? Things are not looking good when the customs officer puts on her violet rubber gloves, Barry Rogers volunteers to take Ian's place.

All is well in the end as our party all get through safely. We congregate in the early evening sunshine outside the customs block and wait for information from our drivers. Other coaches roll up, go through passport control but not customs and are on there way again. One of our drivers informs us that customs are interrogating a person from our coach and we could be delayed for a while, both drivers have had their passports confiscated, so we are going nowhere. As the drivers are being questioned by customs, Barry decides to take matters into his own hands, he ushers two old women back on to the coach shouting "Right come on were off". He jumps into the driver seat, the two women look at each other in amazement, he then starts the engine and we all look at each other in amazement. What the people on the coach think is anyone's guess. We are all relieved to hear the engine stop and Barry jump from the coach with a big smile on his face. At least it broke the boredom.

Charlie gets a football from the coach and we have a kick about on the grass. This lasts about an hour until Damian puts a stop to it with his Peter Kay impression of "Ave it" and boots the ball off the grass verge and over about 10 lanes of traffic, causing panic from one or two drivers.

After about two & half-hours the suspect is released with no charge, but Damian gives him a mouthful as he gets back on the coach. The drivers passports are returned and we can proceed to the loading area for a 10 minute wait, one hour later we are called forward to board the train, 35 minutes later we are back in Blighty. Next stop Medway Services for a 30-minute break and then only seven hours and eight stops to go, finally arriving back in Manchester at about 3.15a.m. What a journey! What a weekend!

Trip Photos

Moston Brook In Ostend: Charlie Macmillan, Tom Costin, Danny Jackson, Mike Fox, Damian McStravick, Barry Rogers, Paul Smith, Ian Field,

Mike Melia, Andy Crossfield, Andy Feeke, John Ferns, Dave Fox, Chris Melia, Dave Kinder

POLICE ROUNDUP PHOTOGRAPH - OSTEND STYLE

Early morning raid by the local Police had Moston Brook photographed and was due to be deported straight after interrogation, armed response units and physiatrists were just off the picture..... click here to view.

Mike makes a toast at breakfast , Chris can't find the toast

LOUTS ON TOUR - Reservoir dogs 8.30 am waiting for the pubs to open with Euros in pockets and one thing on their minds

Captain Danny Jackson presents their skipper with a momentum

 Manager - Charlie Macmillan

Teflon gets it in the ear

Teflon after listening to Damian all night 

DISGRACEFUL - You might think at first glance that Mike was sound asleep, but in fact he was filling up an empty beer bottle.

APPALLING - What does Fernsy and beer bottle have in common? They are both empty from the neck up. He will have to accept that some days he will be the pidgeon, and some days he will be the statue. 

LOST THE PLOT - This is the undiagnosed advance stage of a mental disorder of not knowing when to 'hang your boots up', if your team only has 10 players and you have been handed the substitute shirt, then you must accept this as your fate. oh yes....remember It's hard to make a comeback when you haven't been anywhere.

 DELUSIONAL FIXATION - When a man marries a woman, they become one; but the troubel starts when they try to decide which one.

REEKING - Damian's masterful team talk during a marathon shandy competition. Why is it that inside every older person is a younger person wondering what the heck happened?