Probably best remembered by some for the Sunday afternoon in the Ffridd. 18 footballers sat naked around the table playing Mr Chairman. The manager wasn’t keen on this and asked us to leave as we were disturbing the other customers. All 5 of them actually seemed to enjoy the show!
“My recollections of Old Boys ’05 are Jon Smith falling off the roof of the Belle Vue and through a table, and personal are recollections of taking a shit on the doorstep of the Ffridd after we all got asked to leave” – T Hoppitt
Ade Malone has captured a diary of events in the Walkabout Files – Chapter 99 below. Check it out!
John O’Brien – Ladies and gents, Mr Ad-he-he-he Mal-on-my-own has kindly forwarded me his latest edition of The Life And Times for my good self to add a little colour and dispatch to one and all. It is with a heavy heart that I must announce my successor to the role of accounting such madness will no be no longer. Party-boy has decided to up sticks and join Stevo (moi) for sh*ts and giggles down under, leaving a yawning void within the ranks of old-boy get-assemblies. Yes fellow Bangorians, we all know what that means. With Mr Malone and Mr O’Brien out of the country for the foreseeable future, the position of biographer (for want of a better word) is now vacant. Ade being the slacker that he is failed in his responsibilities to hand the proverbial flame on before jumping ship. If you feel your capricious mannerisms are a foundation for similar traits in writing please feel free to let me know and I will forward you the mailing list to keep the ball rolling. My personal preference and recommendation would be for the wee-man to put his magic fingers to work. Come on Small, ya know ya wanna!
Before leaving you with the ramblings of the shaggy-mullet, I would like to express my profuse apologies for my lack of communiqué over the past few months, but as you can imagine, my lack of sobriety has gravitated me away from the art electronic type.
Quite a bit has happened in my wee walkabout since I last had a chance compose a file (including a few close encounters with some crocs and a skinny dipping episode with some tiger sharks), so I will endeavour to catch up on reports in the very near future. Hope ya all had a fantastic old-boys weekend and I hope to hear from you all soon.Let da good times roll…
Hello to one and all!
Sorry this Old Boy’s Life & Times has taken a while but I’ve been pretty busy, and very lazy.
Well well, where to start for Old Boys 2005…
The shenanigans began for some with a warm up night in the picturesque town of Llandudno. Oh the joys of spending an extra evening with Small Paul. Kev, Phil and the half-pint danced with some he-she. My my, how Llandudno has changed.
With the working week ending and phone calls a plenty, the finest crop of ex-Bangorians once again descended into Bangor. James ‘grey’ Freer, Paolo and myself decided the Baywatch theme is the only song powerful enough for our entry. What The Hassleholf has done in his career is legendary. With the power ballad in the background, handshakes, hugs and kisses were shared to one and all, how emotional we’ve all become.
After saying fairwell to Paddy, off we all popped to the Menai bar. Drink, check-in, change into the fashionable Old Boys 2005 t-shirts, find out who’s missing and make sure they gave a good excuse and then hey, we were all good to go. I’m sure someone asked where’s Lex? Someone else (probably the fat little one – Small) answered, “fuck him” in true Holyhead fashion.
The real reason Mr Alexis Levi Piper was not present is because he decided to leave ‘ciderville’ Taunton at 5’o’clock Friday night. He believed that he could get the train (public transport is for losers and dykes) to Stafford, meet Miss Gemma Shercliffe and drive to Bangor, before the fun begins. Lex’s train failed to go the distance, he spent the night in Stafford with an unhappy Shercliffe.
So as the group skipped to and from the joyful public houses in Bangor, the general comments, apart from the obligatory schoolboy banter were, “where did you get those yellow t-shirts? The general response was, “they’re not yellow, they’re gold”
Anyway, friday’s Time was as drunk as always, eating food in the curved lounge, talking to girls you think you’ve never met until all of a sudden they say you’ve shared an intimate kiss with them and when you say you can not remember, they leave. I blame pretty boy Johny Phillips!!!
Late Friday Night.
Bangor’s healthy student lifestyle fed up the apetites of the working man yet again. Kebabs, burgers, pizzas and Late-Stop porn are the only things an Old Boy needs. Mr O’Brien had asked for a running commentary of what was happening so as it was late in the night and with the wonders of modern technology, a wireless telephone conversation was had to the other side of the Earth!!! I bet you never thought that would happen on Tomorrow’s World!
Mike’s bites was the first port of call. It’s like R Kelly’s afterparty in that place, Old Boys on every table shouting across the room, oh the joys.
With our bellies full and 11’o’clock approaching, off to the bar we skipped again. There we sat for a long, Mr Tryf Prosser arrived with his lovely daughter, he let slip an obscenitiy and he was shunned. He quickly replied to the shunning with a tactical trick of making his daughter stick up her middle finger. Nice move. While playing the usual buyers choice, the general question of what time Lex will finally arrive and I bet he wears
boxers was asked….
And as soon as the champ showed his face, Mr Phil Owen led the ‘team’ in a mission stated something like, ‘hurt Lex / rip off those boxers / hurt Lex’. As the Menai had slowly filled up over the hours, a crowd looked down at the broken man in pain, the crowd laughed.
Skateboarding, football and watching Micky dress up like a paramedic were the afternoon’s drinking activities.
As some ‘gold t-shirts’ were waiting in the queue quite near the front of main bar at 6:30pm, every other ‘gold t-shirt’ decided that was our spot. As the line quickly filled up along the side of Time and beyond, a few ‘gold stragglers and Lex’ made their way over the lights and up the path. Lex, looking cool for the ladies, misjudges his massive feet on one of the steps and takes a tumble. The crowd point and laugh. It’s the only thing to do, the boy will never learn.
Entering the new refurbished main bar in the daylight was a crazy matter. It used to be cold, raining, dark outside and pretty much the same inside. Still, the g&t’s started flowing and off we all went to explore. Now, I can’t remember what everyone else was upto as I was drunk. I do remember a classic roxbury style dance off and I’m sure everyone danced and skipped the night away…
The reason for why we were all there. The football match. An early start and some Late Stop supplies and off we went to play. The third’s game was on first and we arrived to watch some thrilling football. After sitting on the bank examining the game, questions were asked along the lines of, why can’t the keeper take his own goal kicks? Why can’t that defender run? Where’s the drive in this team?
So fuelled with passion, spirit and a belief that we can change the outcome of the game, the heckling began. The keeper asked if I’d like to swap with him if I can do better, I kindly pointed out that I’m not signed and therefore ineligible to play. The shouting did not stop.
Now the Old Boys game. I think we all forgot how cut up Treborth gets? With the sides almost equal, the game began. People got very muddy and quickly realised how drunk they still were. The final score was 6-2 to the old boys, Lex Piper’s bumbling effort finally found the back of the net for 1, the naked keeper Craig scored much to the delight of himself and a laughing crowd. But the highlight of the match was an excellent piece of play from the Speroni – Malone combo resulting in a superb lob into the top right corner by no other than Small Paul! Beautiful.
Sunday afternoon / evening
The joyous afternoon’s drinking games in the Ffridd bar were dramatically ended by the barman. The reason he gave was that we were running too frequently to the toilet to be sick, getting naked and drinking far too many pints at £1.
Mr Chairman’s pub games saw the likes of around 18 naked men sitting around the table drinking beer, throwing up and laughing at each other. The naked keeper Craig managed to be sick after drinking too muck Coca-Cola. The busy pub (two fat girls and 3 lads playing pool) all laughed.
After being removed from the Ffridd and making our way to Rascals, I was fined for not finishing a beer, I’d been sick 6 times in the space of 20 minutes. But still, no excuses. The fine was simple, walk down to Rascals naked. After some debate, I believed it was quicker to agree than to face the wrath of everyone in Rascals. The problem was that my phone dropped out and as quick as a flash, the Prosser / Piper combo took a picture and sent it to one of my female colleagues. Much to their amusement.
The Belle Vue roof was traditionally visited with I’m sure the largest number since it began way back in 2003. It is now tradition to climb up there, strip and drink a beer. Mr John Smith who was experiencing his first Old Boys no longer as a student decided to jump down onto a table. His body ended up like a victim on the beer garden slabs with a perfect hole through the white table. his legs on the top of the table and the rest of him, the other side of the hole. Now, Micky Dee being the paramedic should offer to help, he decided to snap of a leg of the table and club others for a laugh. Gone are the days of a hand mark on your back.
Inside the BV, classic songs were sang and clothes were again stripped. Ordinary folk enjoyed the experience.
Paddy’s was the last port of call, fun times and sweaty bodies all round.
A tip top weekend. Sorry if I’ve missed any important bits or rambled on like a hippy but I’ve tried to remember as much as I can! Oh and Miss Fiona Bowen (Geography teacher) made sure that the picture of me in the nude was shown all around the school I worked at and on my last day (Friday) it was presented to me with good luck comments from all the staff on the back. Still at least nobody lost any hair, cheers one and all!!!!
I’m now off to fly around the world and at some point catch up with a drunken Irish man by the name of Johnny O’Brien. I’m sure, you’ll all get phone calls at some strange times…
Live the Dream.
Any recollections of Old Boys 2005? Any photos? Send them to us