The betrayal of the cursed Bayern beer bottle!

Double Vision with Charlie Adley

I can’t afford Sky Sports, so any live football involving either Chelsea or England on terrestrial TV is a source of excitement in this house, as well as a chance to indulge our English palettes.

As many Irish people know, when you live away from the country of your birth, there exists a comfortable nostalgia for the ways of the old country. So last Friday night, before Chelsea’s thrilling encounter with European Champions Bayern Munich, I spread the coffee table with plates of pork pies, Scotch eggs, pickled onions and Branston pickle. Then, lifting my 1970s dimpled glass pint mug, I slowly poured out a bottle of Fullers London Pride.

One of the few English beers available in Irish supermarkets, London Pride may not be a supreme beer, but to someone who yearns for real ale, it goes down a treat. Also, it’s brewed in Chiswick, west London, close enough to Chelsea to feel local.

Sad to admit, but I was twitching with excitement. Much as I enjoy the craic watching footie in pubs, as a lifetime fan of the game there’s little I love as much as watching a Chelsea game unfold properly, at home. Everything was prepared so that I could sit on my voluptuous arse throughout the match.

Just before kick-off I decided to build up the fire. As I stood up my foot got caught in the phone cord, which tripped the little table, which threw the entire pint of Fullers London Pride all over the floor, phone, coffee table and … just bloody everywhere. My eyes tried to follow the beery tidal trail, marvelling for a second at just how far a single pint of liquid can travel.

Then I moved like the wind.

From the age of 17 I worked in bars, so spilled beer was nothing new to me. Zooming into the kitchen, I grabbed the mop, bucket and wooden floor cleaner and set about an emergency operation.

The teams were already coming out, but UEFA were throwing a razzmatazzy party to celebrate this coming together of footballing giants. Good, that’d take a while.

Mop, rinse, mop, rinse, then out with the lavender wooden floor spray, because after years of opening up pubs in the morning, I know only too well the stink stale beer leaves on a floor. Mop, dry, into the kitchen to dump the filthy mop in the sink, and finally sit down, breathe out, say bollocks out loud and stand up yet again, to get another bottle of beer, because after all that stress I really needed one now.

Just typical. The one thing I’d been looking forward to and tried to set up so that….

Oh give the whinging a rest, man. Football’s on.

The Snapper arrived back from work just before kick off and we sat and watched a thrilling first half, in which Bayern Munich had all the possession and made twice the amount of passes that Chelsea achieved, but Chelsea scored the goal.

For more, read this week’s Galway City Tribune.