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Date Posted: 05:21:39 12/23/01 Sun
Author: Ga Griff
Subject: Captain Cymru and the Trimsaran nutter

The match at Wembley was the first that I had ever had the good luck to get tickets to- I went with an English friend, Kevin Jaggs, an extraordinarily hirsute English lad. We met up for a pint at The Greyhound near the ground- and bumped into some mates from Llanelli, all of us agreeing to meet at that pub just across the road from Paddington station after the game.

Anyway, we all know the result. Tears were shed, etc., stayed back in Wembley for the obligatory hour after the game, and on the way back from the ground to the tube station I had the good fortune to walk past two English boys who were desperately trying to get over the match:

"Still, at the end of the day, it was an away game, wasn't it?"

I pissed myself at that, and made my way back to the pub we we were all going to meet up at.

So I met Kev back there, downcast but gracious, and beginning to drink very heavily. We're sitting in the pub there, and suddenly this guy bursts into the pub with a skintight red suit, singing 'Land of my Fathers'. He has green underpants on over the lycra and a green swimming cap on his head. There is a tiara over the swimming cap. He has a cape on too: in actual fact a large Wales flag tied around his neck. He announces loudly to the bar, 'Greetings! I am Captain Cymru!'.

He gets bought many, many drinks over the next hour or so.

It then comes to our attention that he is not the only strangely dressed one in the bar. What I first took to be a lady in our traditional dress drinking at the bar does, on closer inspection, have hairy arms. I then notice that she's drinking a pint of 'bow: still, I thought, its she's probably from Ely or something. Then, she starts singing in a bass tenor voice. Perhaps she was from Trimsaran, then? As she stumbled past my back I decided to say Hi. I was right. Turns out that she's from Trimsaran, but that she's a he- got off the train that morning all dolled up with hat, lace, tied boots, the lot, stumbled pissed literally just across the road from the station, and stayed in this God-awful rathole in traditional Welsh women's clothing to watch the game with the fly-by-nights and rapists who live in that neck of the woods! Wound up one lad in the place so much he had a knife pulled on him! Still, he looked as happy as Larry and at around 7 left to go back to Llanelli on the train, barely able to walk across the road to the station...

Naturally, Kev and I got absolutely w*nkered, ending up back at the pub next to my flat in Deptford, South London. Pints with the Irish who run the place- 100% record for us after attending a Wales-England game live, what a way to end the drought- and a great day all round!

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