Budapest 2009

Friday: Day one: Location: MCC Mad House: Ambiance: Mustard: Everyone: The tour was being built up all season from the boys as a potential all time classic MCC away trip. Never mind side roads, off the beaten track – this was head first straight down the Autobahn without brakes, with a list of attendees that would have made Keith Richards wet the bed. Brilliant. The majority of the troops met, bright eyed and bushy tailed at Munich International Airport at 5amish. Early morning flights are known as the red eye flight and a certain Brisbane boy didn’t disappoint. To say there was a strong whiff of eau de carnage would be an understatement. We were stinking. The OCC `s (Old Cnut’s Club) soon settled in to their stride with Weissbiers and were seen bowling line and length all weekend. On arrival at Budapist International Airport, the OCC quickly decided that the best form off attack was more lash (and truck loads of it) ASAP. We made it to the hostel where we met a true trooper in the name of Adrian whose hostel he had kindly donated to the MCC fight and their weekend activities. Adrian led us to a local bar for “Breakfast” – for the OCC that was more lunatic soup, and for the girls it was OJs all round and a slice of toast. The girls soon realized that they had boarded the wrong flight for the all inclusive girls guide camping trip to Melton Mowbray, and sharply dispatched OJs for pints of local lunatic soup. All aboard. Next stop, you tell me pal. You know it makes sense. Adrian was leading the charge and did a great impression for someone that was meant to be working. The boys took in some more culture all afternoon and by this time Stephen Anthony (Budapest God) turned up for light refreshments by the Danlube.

Pre-carnage on the Danube.

Everyone was nicely poised at this stage, after all it was 2pm on a Friday, and we were in Eastern Europe, on a cricket tour, amongst friends, with a tour party that would have made Mick Jagger shit the bed. We were happy to hear that one of our boys had safely made the trip from Innsbruck to Budapist on the overnight CanFransico Express. Pants round the ankles, a shiner, an animal laugh, and enough love for everyone and their cans, Mr. Stevenson made his entrance. Things were never gonna be quite the same again. We thought we were thirsty. Fuck me. To be fair it is a fucking long way from Innsbruck to Buda. And to be fair he did board the overnight train with 12 cold fresh (bare minimum I might add), and to be fair he wasn’t going on a big, no expenses paid, all you can carpet munch lezza camping trip with the girl guides. This is the MCC. It’s what we do. This is how we roll. We’re here for business. We’re looking for a good time (you and your mother). If the Chairman found out that there was no tour debauchery we would never, ever, be invited to the closing of the Förschungs again for pints of Piss, er sorry I meant Pilsissimus (thanks Mr Lees). Forget your reserved tables. Shambles. The rest of Friday night was, as you can imagine, a fairly muted affair with most of us tucked up by 5am, absolutely reeling. Dig out your soul. Let’s not forget there was a cricket game to be played in 4 hours and we were representing not only the MCC, but the BCV and also German Cricket as a whole. I know that this was at the forefront of everyone’s minds, as our heads touched the pillows, and we dreamt of a sticky wicket with Steffi opening an all pace attack. Touch.

Animal Day 1. Too big, too early.

Saturday: Day two: Location: MCC Mad House in the storm of the Budapest eye: Ambiance: Mustard: Everyone: No shit. The boys were up and at them early doors as we met the Budapest lads outside the hostel and soon struck up an immediate respect. Two tokes and pass the duchy to the left hand side. And don’t forget the driver. Budapest God soon had a couple crates of cold fresh for the boys to sample. And boy did we sample, at 9am. It’s what we do. The long wait for the coach soon washed away along with our cares in the world, as Animal kindly pointed out that this was indeed the first house that Hitler ever had a wank in. Keith Richards called for his mummy at this stage but was told, politely, but firmly, to fuck off, pull his socks up and get the beers in.

Animal met the locals while we waited for the bus.

A luscious ground, loads of fit birds in bikinis, free bar, gammon goalposts, with a magnificent pavilion awaited us as we stepped off the coach. Well not really, but fuck it, it sounds good. MCC enjoyed generous hosts buffet, especially the Vice, who in the words of Richie Benaud, absolutely twatted the ball to all corners. Big Bird looked like a Big Bird possessed on Helles and went big and early. We’ve taught him well. Pintsmanship at its very best. With plenty on the board, the hosts were invited to show us their cover drives. Animal, down in the book as “right arm pissed” soon got stuck in to the Buda boys, and he bowled okay as well. Charles Hobbs was top notch, which is surprising considering he shaves his bollocks and the Bird caught a snorter in the gully. Handshakes, cans and Bob Dylan woodbines were swapped at the end of the game as everyone boarded the coach for the journey back.

Some cricket was played …

A quick can stop and a sprinkle of the sprinklers and we were back at the hostel before you can say Boycott beats his wife. Dave Gowers, a scrub of the nuts and a quick splash of eau de la shit faced for everyone and the boys were ready for action. And the action we were looking for was in house strippers. A quick whip round and some lovely young ladies turned up looking for a sausaging. Our boys were just looking for a strip show and the gammon soon disappeared as quickly as the JD and Coke’s that we were by now nailing. Usain Bolt drinking. Slurpers. A club overlooking Buda was next on the hit list. Bob Monk was quite possibly involved. Allegedly. Animal was seen throwing his jeans off the balcony but provided excellent fanny cover as the boys swooped in looking for anything female and with a dripping clunge. It’s a good job that we eventually stumbled out of there, as judging by the glint in Westy`s eyes, there would still be smoldering gash scattered around the rooftop now. A quick pint at the local strip club, even though the big bird was playing hard to get, she was still gagging for it though, and the boys made it home, all present and cunted officer.

Guess who?

Sunday: Day three: Location: MCC Mad House. Again. Ambiance: Mustard: Everyone: Again.

A sizzling 3 hours kip and it was up and at them to face the Hungarian champs on their own turf. And it was turf. Phil Turfnell. And the sun was shining, and we’d been on it for 2 days and the outfield wasn’t the best and ………. well we got a spanking. They were good and we were feeling the effects of Buda. Animal eventually got to the ground and soon had the lads pissing themselves with tales of being escorted out of a 5 star hotel after being woken up, in the foyer, asleep up a tree. We still had about 6hrs to kill after the game before we flew back home. There was some world class goulashing going on by everyone, dipping their bread, and generally looking and behaving like a bunch of lads who had enjoyed their Goulash all weekend. The grassy bank was turned in to a shrine for cuntedness and everyone took their rightful turn. Adrian, ever the perfect host, was knocking up some rather strong cigarettes in between the Goulash. Touch. With the time running out we said farewell to Goulash lady, Buda God, Adrian and Animal at the ground and headed back to the airport just as we had arrived – absolutely cunted and with a terrible thirst. Airside cans were enjoyed and we strolled on to the flight. Amazingly the pilot knew that it was Big Bird`s 30th birthday and gave him a shout. I know it, you know it, we all know it – it was our favorite MCC tour ever. Shove Zuoz up your arse and take your Fondue with you.

Top facts about Animal:

Animal can win a game of Connect Four in only three moves.

When Animal jumps in the water he doesn’t get wet. The water gets Animaled.

Animal once nursed a baby elephant in to puberty.

If paper beats rock, rock beats scissors and scissors beats paper. Animal beats all of them.

Animal had the idea to sell his urine as a canned drink. We know this drink as Red Bull.

Animal can shit through the eye of a needle from six paces.

Animal can unscramble an egg.

Animal can gargle peanut butter

Animal sued Will Smith for making the film I am Legend without his permission

Animal can divide by zero

Animal can piss round corners

Animal knows where Osama Bin Laden is but doesn’t want to tell us

Animal ordered a Big Mac at Burger King and got one.

Animal is the 8th wonder of the world

Animal wasn’t born, he was hatched

Animal once shit a hammer

Animal turns shit in to wine. He’s not the messiah; he’s just a very naughty boy.

Animal once challenged Lance Armstrong to a “who has more testicles contest”…Animal won…by 5.

Animal can touch MC Hammer

Animal once tried to commit suicide ……..he tied a noose around his neck from a tree, drank poison, jumped off a cliff and shot himself! The bullet missed, hitting and snapping the noose, he hit the water so hard he threw up the poison on impact, and survived……..Animal is IMMORTAL!

Animal won the official world hide and seek championship in 1990 and is still yet to be found.

Animal lives on a diet of goat’s piss and petrol

Animal has the biggest collection of rocking horse shit in his back garden

Tour manager, tour reporter and most importantly, the man with the crate.