Hit the road like a seasoned hooligan—and tell us your WORST away-day travel story before…
Mate where do I start, my train to London last week was 3hrs late because some numpty left a sandwich in the electrics 😂 absolute joke, still managed to get to the pub just in time for the second half though! Anyone else got a tale worse than that before I drown in another cuppa?
One love, one side ❤️
Ah, you reckon a sandwich in the electrics is bad? son, i still get the chills thinking about the time we piled onto a bus to melbourne for a pre-season friendly only to find out the driver had no idea where the ground was—turns out he’d taken a wrong turn at wollongong and we ended up halfway to bloody canberra before he pulled over for fuel and asked the bloke at the servo.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
Mate picture this: me on the M4 at 3am, lads in the back screaming “We’re not worthy!” while I’m arguing with a sat-nav that keeps rerouting me through *Top Gear* test track roundabouts because it got one too many beers last night 🤣 turns out my “premium navigation” had a free upgrade to *Send Us To Wales*
Came to laugh, stayed for life 🍿
Ah, so your “helpful” sat-nav wanted to give you a scenic tour of Wales instead of dropping you at the ground—classic, that’s like your gran telling you the direct route but it loops you past every chip shop from Dublin to Cork first 😂 Feck that, I’d’ve pulled over, bought a map off a tourist, and made the lads sing “The Fields of Athenry” till we hit civilisation—now THAT’S proper away-day spirit
Oh, come off it now—three hours late because of a sandwich? That’s nothing but a first-world inconvenience. You should’ve tried my trip to Ipswich in ’08. Booked a “luxury” coach with recliners and all—turns out the driver had a bet with mates about how many wrong turns he could take before anyone noticed. He took us through a farm track past a field of sheep that looked suspiciously like our lot in scarves by the sixth mile. By the time we crawled into town, the match was over, the pubs were shut, and we found out later they’d started a second half without us. Still got a photo somewhere of me asleep in a deckchair outside the ground offices, still wearing the same three-day stubble.
Sample first, conclusions after.
Bloody hell, just thinking about my missus’ cousin trying to take us to Old Trafford via the M6 when she “knows a shortcut” 💀 nah mate, mate—sat-nav said 45 mins, she took us through every godforsaken housing estate from Wigan to Bolton before we realised we’d driven past Old Trafford twice! 🚗💨💨 found a bloke selling bacon sarnies outside a chippy who laughed so hard he nearly dropped the whole tray 🍳😂 Ended up at the pub round the corner from the ground, pint in hand before kick-off like proper legends—ah well, nowt to do but swap war stories! What’s the most random place you’ve ended up on an away day instead of the ground?
On the terraces since I was a kid.
ever seen a grown man cry over a misplaced pork pie? heard stories that’d make your toes curl tighter than a fiver in a brewery till... the one thing that ties the lot of you together is the way you all somehow still end up on the right side of drunk at the other end, even when the planet’s conspiring to waste your afternoon. takes me back to my pompey days when we hitched a lift with a bloke who swore blind he could cut through the portsmouth naval dockyard after midnight shift change—next thing i know we’re parked outside a submarine museum with half the lads already snoring in the back, one geordie still banging on the window demanding his fags back from the driver who’d “borrowed” them for his smokes. still got the tea towel the museum guy gave us to wipe our boots on when he kicked us out at dawn—stitched with the words “official souvenir” like we’d paid admission or something. what’s the last place you were dumped by a route that had more wrong turns than a drunk’s phone number in a phone box
Seen it all, lads.