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Rough Ramblas

by Neville Keighley

“Benny’s in hospital, no details” was the text message that popped up on Tuesday evening as we settled into our seats for the Real v Bayern game. Next thing I knew the phone was ringing, people back home were after info. In the age of the internet and mobile phones, news travels fast. I rang around a few of the lads but nobody could provide anymore info. We agreed there could only be a few scenarios. He’d either fallen over drunk, been shot or stabbed by a jealous pimp or over indulged on the Persians. Seeming as we were In Madrid and Benny was in Barca, we decided to carry on enjoying the start of our football feast.

The next day we flew into Barca and managed to find out what happened to Benny.

Geoff: He’d been hammering everything since we got into Speke Airport and didn’t stop until late in the afternoon. We thought he was going to melt, he was sweating like a pig and he face was beetroot. We asked him if he was okay, and we thought he said ‘I’m having a heart attack’ I flagged a taxi down and told the driver to take my mate to the hospital. We bundled him the taxi and the driver radioed ahead to the hospital, telling them he had a heart attack victim on the way.

Benny: I wasn’t feeling too good so I said ‘I think I’m having a panic attack’. They put in a cab and I thought I was going back the hotel. Next minute I’m at the hospital and there are a team with a gurney, difibulator etc. on the step. ‘What the fugs going on here?’ If I wasn’t having a panic attack then I fucking was now! The Doctors got me out and tried to get me on the gurney, I started swinging and the next thing I knew, two security guards pinned me down and a doctor gave me three injections, which knocked me out.

I woke up hours later handcuffed to the bed, tubes sticking out of everywhere, including one the width of a Mickey Dees straw up my japs eye! I screamed the place down until the nurse came and sorted me out. I shuffled off to the bog for a slash, bad move as I screamed the gaff down again. The doctor explained to me what happened (last thing I remembered was being pinned down), the tried to strap a straight jacket on me and have me sectioned! The cheeky bastards then demanded my insurance details. I told them my E111 was at the hotel and they let me sign out. On the way out an arl security guard winked at me and said 'see you later Benny'.


After Benny's adventure, I'd decided I'd had enough. I was just about to go in the hotel when Smigger grabbed me 'Get in this bar now, I've met some wonderful people'. The rest of the night was very hazy. On the way in, Smigger passed a few grafters from Southern Spain who gave him a gargantuan bag of coke gratis. My first instinct was to roll a 50 euro note but by now Smigger was pulling on my arm. 'don't do the shit here, take it in the bog'. Which I did - this was the best type of cocaine, the stuff that's free! I started lashing the stuff up my nose with no thought at all of the noise I was making, or the fact that I had to be up at 8 to catch the flight home. It was 3 in the morning, I was flying and I wanted more people to share our little prize. I texted a few more of the lads, they were tucked up in bed after a full day on the hammer but one decided he'd come out and play, free cocaine has that effect!

Carl texted me for the location (the reception was crap in the Indian Lounge) but he couldn't find it. After an hour of text tennis he simply text me to say 'FUCK OFF, HELP ME OUT...INFACT JUST FUCK OFF'




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