Ulternative Alster Fan Club

 

Each game, we hope to bring you the ramblings of our travelling support, both at home, and especially away, to give the viewers online, some idea of what they missed at the games.

This week our intrepid blogger tells us of the trip to Biarritz.*

Biarritz – The Surreal Story

The first view of Biarritz was the airport runway. Seconds before landing, I could see it clearly in front of me – just at the end of the starboard wing ( the right one for goodness sake).

“Unusual aircraft this” I thought “landing sideways.”

But it was only the pilot desperately trying to bring the thing down in a howling gale. He succeeded – seems he was in the second week of his work experience stint. You cannot imagine how relieved I was – the effect of having your hand held by a terrified Grousebeater is very unnerving.

We got a taxi to the hotel, sensibly asking the price first. Realising it must be a considerable distance, we settled down for a relaxing journey. About half a minute later we arrived at the Tulip Inn. It’s bleedin’ expensive in the south of France.

My room was on the second floor so I took the lift which dutifully stopped at the right place. The door didn’t open. Patiently I stood there hoping it was just a bit slow and that I wasn’t going to spend the first day awaiting rescue. A voice from behind startled me.

“Excusez-moi monsieur”

It was a maid wondering why I was standing there. Well, I’d never been in a lift with front and back doors before.

After a quick change of underpants (the landing don’t forget), we walked out into the heat of a beautiful day and headed towards the stunning promenade which is such a feature of Biarritz. We were so impressed that we did about eight lengths of the seafront. At last Boomshanka said he’d managed to photograph all the topless women on the beach, and we were able to retire to the Red Café.

This became our base for the whole stay – a good rugby bar with a friendly young barman. It was here the big banner was put up and where we saw numerous recordings of the match on Saturday and Sunday. Again we cheered our two tries, marvelled at Trimble’s great run, and booed Mr Whitehouse. ( Actually, he didn’t really do much wrong, but he is a referee and Welsh.)

On the first night, the barman was so delighted at the amount of business we had brought in, he gave the Grousebeaters free pints and a large plate of chips. Scrumstretcher gave him a URSC key-ring.

Indeed the Grousebeaters seemed to benefit from free pints most visits, such was their popularity in the bar. Until the last night that was. A dejected young barman approached the table and explained he had just been sacked. His mumbled English was difficult to make out, but I think I heard words like “imbecile”, “profit”, “free beer”.

The day of the match was a long one. I watched with great interest the touch rugby game between the two sets of supporters. At least that had been the original plan, but the Biarritz guys took one look at our chaps and suggested we’d better just mix the teams. Seemed a sensible idea. Mr Bill excelled, Mr Benson might have done if he’d been given the ball. The URSC was so professional that we had a water-carrier. To be truthful, Scrumstretcher has much to learn. Like giving the water to the players rather than drinking it himself.

The Heiny game has been well documented – an impressive Ulster performance, except for the first 15 minutes or so. The Biarritz fans said they’d forgotten about O’Driscoll – they want Trimble now. They stared in amazement at our happy band of manic eejits and our singing of a selection of Irish tunes. Well “Stand up for the Ulstermen” actually. (Our Mr Ferris, an ex-school teacher has written a second verse for this. It goes “Sit down for the Ulstermen”. You can’t beat a good education)

The story of the Sunday trip can be seen by the photos which have appeared on a message board near here. Gaz threw himself manfully into the French habit of greeting people by kissing both cheeks. His version is more a sort of snogging. Peter and Claire announced their engagement. How we laughed – but it wasn’t a joke. Best of luck to the young, and very nice, couple.

On Monday, the Grousebeaters had a last lingering look at the beach. On the way past the hotel de ville, Scrumstretcher remarked that must be a big hotel chain – they seem to have one in every French town. I mentioned this faux-pas (what is the French for faux-pas by the way?) to Billy. He just said that he’d gone in and the bar was useless.

We ordered another round.

 

* The UAFC are not responsible for the witterings of any supporters in the production of this piece, and the views expressed are the views of the eidjit doing the writing.