I'm a Manc and have been a member of this board for 14-15 years. When I first came on as you'd expect ,there was the perfectly normal reaction of WTF do you want coming here? Happy to say before too long all was sorted and this board is a paradise for old gets like me that just love the game and debate. But got to say what a shite idea for ANY pub to propose - never mind a Liverpool pub! I can't be doing with that get Enfield - both him and his old fella have much to answer for mate.
Alright Johno, you're a part of the furniture here mate. Funnily enough I had a few mates from Manchester and I used to stay at their house in the seventies, they also came to ours, this friendly relationship started off a bit mad actually. It was 77, we'd won the European Cup and me and a load of mates decide to head to Rhyll, we ended up in a field by the beach with our tents pitched, mine had a big dart drew right along the side with the words "Anny Rd Darts Team' in big bold fuck off letters. There was about ten of us all having a laugh as sixteen year olds do, most of us had just left school, no money, no jobs and couldn't give a fuck about anything apart from going to the match and having a laugh.
We were sitting around our tents when a load of lads turned up in a mini bus and after cautiously sussing us out from the safety of their van, parked over the other side of the field. They unpacked all their gear and were uncomfortably aware of us sussing them out whilst we passed around our cans of Harp lager and shared our ciggies. It wasn't long before we sussed them out as Mancs and we all got a little bit excited, thinking 'this is deffo going to kick off here'. They had a few old blokes with them who were controlling them and appeared to have all their lads respect. Anyway, shortly after they started a kick about and needless to say the ball came over by us a few times - this would make a great film! A couple of times we just ignored the ball and made them come and get it, we thought we were acting all cool and hard but probably came across as a gang of dickheads! We shouted the odd obscenity which unfortunately included references to Munich, wooly backs and sheep shagging, not the best start to relationship forming.
After a few chats amongst us and constant glaring back and forth, one of their lads called Gus came over and asked if we wanted a game - how fuckin' mad is this going to be? Most of us being half bladdered on a can and a half of lager and a shared Party Four accepted, let the mayhem begin! You could sense a mixture of tension and good humour and although a few half hearted snide remarks were made, it was a good kick about. We all sat down afterwards and like with the Germans in the trenches during WW1, peace ensued during that special moment in time. Ciggies were handed out and the slops of our ale was shared. It transpired that these lads were from Ancoats Lads Club and were having a weekend away with their leaders.
We sat chatting for ages, like us, they were a mixture of red and blue and the majority of them were all regular match goers and you know what? There wasn't a cockney amongst them! As mad as it sounds we ended up hanging around with them for most of their stay, a couple of them had not long been released from borstal and we had a great laugh. It was a surreal situation and we all laughed that we've all probably been part of opposing mobs during our travels to each others grounds, this was verified during the exchange of experiences when following our teams, the most of which, depending on the speaker, had a biased slant to who ran who! Well, the weekend came to an end and telephone numbers were exchanged. We stayed in Rhyll for a few weeks and I ended up getting a job washing glasses in a club called The Orange Peel but after a while fucked off back home.
I rang 'The Mancs' and agreed to visit them staying at John and Paul Guerns (spelling?), fuck me, how mad is Ancoats? It was like living on the set of Shameless, only madder! We had some screams, the family were great and the locals in the ale house, The Monument (I think) which was just over the road from Paul and John's Mam and Dad's flat, thought it was mad having a scouser visiting and all made me welcome. I must have visited about a dozen times and would get off the train at Piccadilly and walk through to their place, smiling as I walked past a number places were we'd previously had a few skirmishes. Paul and John also came to our house and the hospitality was repaid, I even ended up getting into a bit of a relationship with one of their sisters, they had three, two of which were professional shoplifters and often spent time away at Her Majesty's pleasure, great girls though.
We had quite a few experiences during our mutual visits, one which resulted in me getting sussed out by a gang from Miles Platting and ending up with a visit to Ancoats Hospital after being knocked out on a canal bank. I'm proud to say that my Ancoats mates all jumped in on my side, unfortunately, being the main "Mickey Mouser" target, I came off worse. Another time I was staying in their Josie's (eldest sister) and I was half bladdered and in bed when the door opened, I heard a couple of lads asking "Who the fuck is that" and clearly pointing at me - I played an Oscar winning performance as an unconscious drunk whilst at the same time almost shitting the bed as Josie dragged them out saying "Coco, leave it, it's one of our John's mates. Thank fuck Coco (the infamous Manc scally) listened to Josie and off they went to conduct their nocturnal activities in another room. madly enough we all laughed about it the next day, with no Coco around that is, and shivered to think what would have happened if they had sussed me out! Like most youth experiences, we all moved on and got jobs, I joined the army in 79 and sadly lost touch. I met John at a Man U match one day and had a gab over the fence in the Rd End, the bizzies and fans from both sides suspiciously watching our every move and wandering what the fuck was going on. I saw their youngest brother (can't remember his name) load of times, he was a mad Manc red and went everywhere as 'one of their boys'.
I've often searched facebook and the likes but can't find fuck all on any of them, not that I've got much to go on like. I know Paul ended up as a slaughter man in the local abattoir and I'm sure all their flats have now been knocked down and they've all probably gone their seperate ways, ah well that's life. Sorry to go on but Johno, you started my flash back and I thank you for that mate. I won't wish you good luck for next season because that will be a lie