On to Sunday and a trip to Oberhausen leaves our regular scribe Seb feeling a 'little under the weather' shall
we say. But fear not because Will Ranner's hangover hasn't quite kicked in yet (we think he's still drunk from
the night before) and so he is here to comment on the state of the German fashion industry and to
definitely not mention the war ......
Well where do you start? Firstly, thanks to Robin for giving us a lift to Germany. Entering Oberhausen
is like walking through a hard rock vortex into 1985. The fashions, the STUPENDOUS MULLETS, the bratwurst
and DON'T MENTION THE WAR - I JUST DID BUT I THINK I GOT AWAY WITH IT!
Oberhausen were having an open day to celebrate the start of the season and there were lots of interesting
MULLETS on show. Voller MULLETS, staight MULLETS, ugly MULLETS, shell suit
MULLETS and the all time Belgiqn beer tour favourite, the denim jacket with patches MULLET.
There was also a rather over friendly AC-DC fan named Marc who sported a fetching leather waistcoat complete
with tassles! If you want to know the full extent of the horror of Marc, wait for the pictures! Super Gav Williams
who sat with us in the first half will back me up!
The first question we were asked on arrival was "Are you hooligans?" and a teenage lad with severe acne asked
to swap my brand new Glovers shirt for a T-Shirt proudly declaring 'I support White Power'. It's nice to see that
fascism is alive and well in this corner of Germany! All kinds of people were looking to swap shirts, badges and
scarves. It's a shame we didn't take more with us. Next time. We also saw an Oberhausen player kissing a dog. You
really had to be there.
Did I mention the dogs? Antwerp is full of small dogs. Most odd.
By this stage we had mentioned the 1939-1945 conflict several times. Did I mention the
MULLETS? We have some beautiful pictures, not least the Oberhausen coach who sported an absolute beauty!
Came for the MULLETS, we only came for the MULLETS, we only came for the MULLETS!
Back in Antwerp we prceeded to drink from the cup of the blond bolleke until we found ourselves touring
the red light district. What happened there shall remain on tour forever.
I stumbled in at 6am having sung karaoke with Mr Pete Lancaster holding up a lighter to the strains of
Sweet Caroline by the wonderful Mr Neil Diamond.