I’ve taken a while to get around to writing this. Soz. Been trying to cope with the ennui brought about by having the best day ever and fearing life has peaked.

This was the plan.

Here is the outcome.

I woke up, and for the first time in many weeks, I didn’t have to get up and study for exams, or get up and actually do an exam. They were over. I was finished.

So I looked something like this when I woke:

First things first. Cup of tea. Get it inteyeh Cynthia.

You may have noticed that I have a Smiths mug. I like The Smiths. I also like other music and shit. Just so you know, ladies.

No better way to follow this up than by playing some Crash Bandicoot 3: Warped. I’d forgotten just how good this game was. Just listen to the music and let the memories come flooding back. Anyway, I played five levels and beat the first boss. Tried to save the game and put my name as ‘Thrillhouse’, but it only let me put in eight letters, so I really only got to write ‘Thrillho’ – just like in this scene.

All that jumping around, spinning, killing weird creatures and collecting apples made me pretty hungry. I decided the best way to remedy my hunger was by eating something.

Some of you may question the lack of sausages there. I’ve really gone off sausages lately. I got one recently with a chewy bit in it. You know a little lump of fat or something, and it’s like rubber, and you just have to spit it out. Never been the same since.

Then I had the first beer of the day. Here is a picture of that beer. You’ll also see my Twitter feed on my laptop in the background, proudly topped by a tweet from Jedward.

Then I went into town to meet a mate so we could drink, eat more food (I estimated that I would soon become hungry again, see) then go to the match.

We went to a pub. When ordering drinks, a group of men walked in. They were all wearing nice suits, except for one of them. The man not wearing a suit was the man I recognised as Paddy Power. As an avid gambler, this excited me.

We sat outside and basked in sunshine and happiness, and soon the suited lads and Paddy Power sat at the table next to us.

Some of the lads then started smoking cigars. I could only describe them as Fat Cats. Just as we were finishing our pints, a couple more guys came to join the Fat Cats. They asked if they could have the spare seats next to us. We said yes, and that we were just leaving, so they could also have our table.

So then as the pleasantries were exchanged, I asked Paddy Power if he was Paddy Power.

He said he was. We had a chat. He asked me about Porto (I was wearing a Porto jersey). Lovely man. Got a photo.

This was also the first time in at least five years that I’ve worn a football jersey outside of the house.

Just as we were leaving, the Fat Cats (who were also very nice, I must say. Don’t let their Fat Cat name mislead you) asked us if we knew who Shaun Goater was.

I responded with a lovely “Of course! Feed The Goat and he will score!”

For anyone who doesn’t know, Shaun Goater was a footballer who played for Manchester City. ‘Feed The Goat and he will score’ was something City fans would say a lot.

The Fat Cats laughed and said he was inside getting a pint and would be out in a second.

So then we met Shaun Goater and got a photo. He was asking me about the Porto manager and remarking about how young he was. This photo was taken by Paddy Power.

YES I KNOW I’M DOING THE CAMPEST POSE IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND.

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was meeting Paddy Power and a famous former footballer and having the best day of my life, but something at that moment made me adopt the physicality of Graham Norton for a couple of seconds.

You may also recognise the jeans, jumper and shoes from my fashion post. Funnily enough, Paddy Power features in that too. I swear I have no affiliation with Paddy Power. I do however, highly recommend gambling.

We said our goodbyes and went and got a burrito next door in Pablo Picante’s. My favourite thing to eat in the whole world is a Pablo’s burrito.

I didn’t take a photo of my burrito because I couldn’t bear to spend a few seconds with a burrito in front of me and not eat it.

We then made our way to the Aviva Stadium for the match. Stopped for drinks at different locations en route.

I won’t bore you with the details of the match, but Porto won 1-0 thanks to a Falcao header. I can’t express my love for Falcao. To see him score the most typical Falcao goal, an awesome header, in the flesh, was a great moment.

When leaving the stadium, a Braga (Porto’s opposition) fan kept looking at me and my mate. We didn’t take too much notice until he popped up in our faces shouting at us in Portugese and gesturing angrily. It was a really bizarre moment. His mates grabbed him and took him away and apologised. We became aware at that point that we were surrounded by Braga fans, and that if that situation had gotten any worse,  the best day ever may well have been my last day ever.

Alas, everything was grand.

Everything is usually grand.

Back into town.

Went to my university’s pub, The Pav.

Then Workman’s Club.

Here I got to act all Billy Big Bollocks, buying drinks willy nilly, because of all the money Porto had won me.

Got plenty drunk.

On the way home, your mother made me let her give me a blowjob.

Somewhat ruined the day because she’s rubbish, but still.

12 June 2011 ‧ For The Lolz, Life etc. ‧ 7 Comments