Mr Hannah, aka Patrick Doyle, invited us to the live final of the Heineken Cup Final between
But this, like the Olympics, was amazing. The atmosphere was warm and contagious. I can count the things I know about rugby on one hand but it didn’t matter. The important thing was how much fun Hannah and I had from start to finish.
Our train to
Settling down to watch the game, I watched as a medic ran on to massage a player’s upper thigh. With my eye sight, from my seat, it looked a bit like he was…you know… and so I said to Hannah. It seems to be my curse that I accidentally swear in front of my friend’s fathers, when all I really want to do is impress them.
‘What?’ asked Patrick after I’d pointed out the medic giving the player a hand job.Oh-oh.
But lo! This father wasn’t schooled at the same stuffy Muslim school as my Switzerland friend’s, so when Hannah repeated my observation, he laughed whole heartedly and slapped his thigh. Phew. Still room to charm him. Still room for my Tooloose pun.
As our journey to
From there, we had to get a bus, as did 40,000 other people. But I managed to squeeze on to one bus and I saw Hannah being eclipsed by burlier, bigger people left behind.
I was one of the last people to board and I turned back to grab her from the sea of hands below. So did my nemesis, some pointless and annoying human being who decided she wanted to be the last to board too.
‘We’ve only got room for one more!’ shouted the driver. I felt like I was on the last safety boat for the Titanic. All those left behind will drown in a sea of doom! Only room for one more!
‘Let my girlfriend on! I’m not going without Hannah!’ I screamed.
‘Let my boyfriend on!’ shouted boring face. Only one of us can win a seat for our other half. She is bigger than me and the driver looks like he’s going to have a small heart attack.
I was just about to give up and step off the bus when I heard chanting coming from inside the bus.
No, not ‘We love