Ditto. Coach should have left BDTBL at 6am sharp. By 6.15 it was obvious that we weren't setting off as one fucktard was late (there's always, always one). The seat next to me was empty and that is where this cunt sat when he finally turned up at 6.30. Usual bollocks as he loudly announced 'couldn't find dog', 'toaster on blink' etc. instead of telling the truth - 'I am the annoying cunt who is late for everything - the bus, the train, the flight, the cruise. I apologise for being a complete and utter twat who will be late for my own fucking funeral'. But they never do, because they don't realise they're fucking oxygen thiefs.
For some reason, the bog on the coach wasn't working so, before we even got to Tibshelf Services (which you could probably reach with a good piss from Sheffield), some weak-bladdered twats were asking the driver to stop. Fast (well, slow) forward to Watford Gap where about 50 coaches stopped and the queues for the bogs were about half a mile long. Never mind. We pulled up outside Wembley at around 11.00 am, the doors to the stadium didn't open till 1.30 and KO was four fucking hours away. Any pubs nearby had massive queues outside, were charging a fiver to get in etc. etc. Instead of insanely early set-off times, the coaches should leave for a game in London at, say 10.00 with the strict proviso that 'no toilet, food, whatever stops will be made'. We WILL depart at 10.00 - no excuses and NO FUCKING RETARDS WILL BE ALLOWED TO BOOK!
Anyway, game over and the driver had asked us to get back to the coach as quickly as possible as getting out of the car park can be a nightmare. No problem! By 6.00 pm the driver's revving the engine and a clear path to the exits is in front of us, except...except...one cunt is missing and guess who it is? Yup, the tardy twat in the seat next to me, the one who kept us all waiting back at BDTBL. Seems this twat had managed to walk all the way around the stadium - including the Burnley end - before his lone brain cell had finally steered him back to our coach.
It amazes me that twats like this are probably married with kids, manage to hold a job down but couldn't find their own arse with both fucking hands!
Many, many depressing hours later, we were nearing Sheffield and the usual pantomime began - people sidling up to the driver and asking 'Can you drop me off at Waterthorpe/Mosborough/Woodhouse etc?' And, instead of saying 'No I fucking can't, you cunt. Didn't you realise when you bought your Barratt box in this God-forsaken shithole, it was dirt cheap for a reason? It's because it's in the back of beyond with no transport links, decent shops, just thousands of similar-minded fucking morons like you? That's why your four-bedroom 'starter home' cost £15 grand' the good-natured driver becomes an unpaid taxi firm for these cunts. Result? If you're ever coming back by coach from the south and see a sign 'Sheffield - 15 miles' don't get excited, it will be another 2 hours before you see Bramall Lane where taxis are abundant.
Never, ever again.
Now you're talking! Huddersfield and Hull games, first-class train, about £75 return. In fact for the Huddersfield game, I was on the bus to town and bumped into a fellow Blade. It was 10.30 in the morning and KO was 3.00. He said 'Well you're not going to the game!' I replied 'Why not? Train leaves at 11.00, arrives at St. Pancras at 13.10, no problem.'
If there was no alternative to a coach the next time we play at Wembley I would - seriously - rather fucking walk.
