Capitol, Offenbach
It's the last day of the tour, and to celebrate I've suddenly got an explosive cold. But I won't go into it - I'd hate to bore you with graphic details of my ailments. I'm ashamed to say that I'd never even heard of Offenbach until this tour. Sorry, Offenbach. Don't take it personally. I'd never heard of Godalming before I went there by mistake once.
MVB and I go on a little walk into the town centre to discover the usual array of Hennes and Pimkies and Tchibo stores that we have seen all over Europe (each usually blasting out a healthy dose of British Popstar/Academy music (or Rick Astley) as you walk by.) We return to discover to our horror that the football match is going ahead very shortly in a park up the road.
Over the weeks we've become quite friendly with David and his band. Too bad we now must become locked in fierce gladiatorial combat.
Our squad consists of Matt, MVB, Dan, Tony, Steve and me. It's five aside, with rolling substitutes. David seems to have brought along several teams' worth, although in the end most of them are just there to laugh and laugh and laugh. It's a jumpers-for-goalposts situation. The pitch is fairly short but infinitely wide, which means you have to do quantum throw-ins.
I feel I may die within two minutes of the start. Mr Gray's team can actually play football, something our tactics were not prepared for. However, we manage to withstand the onslaught for both the first and second half, largely thanks to Matt's goalkeeping prowess (it may surprise you to learn that Matt was once a promising young goalkeeper/fullback/wicket keeper. He's a natural sportsman, but doesn't really have the foresight for effective team play, preferring bursts of heroic solo play, most often ending in disaster. That's why he's kept at the back where it's easier to get kicked in the head, which is what he likes most of all). He wins the respect of all. Eventually, after a period of 'extra time' (ie the length of time it takes for someone to score, whether anyone likes it or not) David twats a fine ball past Matt's outstretched fingertips and the game is pronounced won 1-0 even though Dan saw the jumpers move and the way he used to play that's not a goal, so he didn't really win but we'll say he did it's his tour after all. We limp off for our soundcheck feeling extremely unwell.
There's a German journalist in the dressing room who gives Matt some felt-tips and makes him draw a picture. Matt discovers he has injured his thumb and ruined his voice shouting. Dan's spine has been destroyed in an "incident" on the field. MVB cannot move his arms or legs. I can't stop sneezing. The gig is great.
Afterwards we are met by David and the band (shouting "one nil" - Dan's lip curls) and some champagne. And so we leave, wreathed in smiles and best wishes, with fond memories in our hearts and minds, incredibly pissed.
The Aqualung Expeditionary Force (1919)
(standing, l-r) Matt VB, My Good Self, Tony, Dan, Matthew 'Aqualung' Hales
(squatting uncomfortably, l-r) Fish, Roberto, Paul, Steve, Harvey
