The Super-sized Tour
(IN MEMORY OF ANTON, THE ONE AND ONLY PINK PANTHER)

This Tour Report has gone before Hercule Poirot and is certified as wholly WGOTSOT compliant.

The prequel

For those of you who weren't there this report won't mean a thing. For those of you who think that this report may apply it might fill in a few blanks

At the beginning of the 2001/02 season, when hearts were strong and minds possessed the resolve that makes this club unique, we gambolled across the pitches of Middlesex buoyed up in the knowledge that we had some thirty seven intrepid tourists set for a four day invasion to Maastricht, Holland and for a touch of the entente cordiale.

By April 2002 the number of marauders had dropped to a very select twenty plus and the venue had moved to the student city of Eindhoven, famous for its magical disappearing, reappearing Cathedral! Those who went on tour would like to than those who dropped out for swelling the beer kitty to a record sum as we hardly needed to use our own 'Devil's currency' all weekend.

Tour officially began at 7:30am on Friday 26 April 2002

DAY ONE

Chiswick to Dover: By Coach

Lost presumed dead: Kevin Cremin (AKA Cr?me Angeles of Belgium 2000 fame); Cr?me, a legend on Belgian brothel etiquette during 2000 Tour found his skills tested to the extreme when the departure time was bought forward to 7:30am. He failed make the departure time and, despite much wailing and gnashing of teeth, we set sail. Flanders rugby fields will be the poorer for his absence.

Those sailing on the good ship were treated to an alfresco breakfast composed by the famous Stream brothers and the young pretenders to their throne Messrs Wharfe and Poriot:-

Menu

Bloody Marys a la Stream;
Pimms and Lemonade a la Wharfe et Poriot;
White Russian a la Pookie;
Strohl 80 Mme Vinesy, and nobody forgives you for it.

Sommelier and tour gourmet had unrivalled knowledge of rare alcohols and potions making him the perfect tour doctor for any maladies of the sea.

Dover to Calais: Onboard HMS Get Pissed Quick

The call of "TOUR HATS" had a number of tourists in distress. As the sommelier handed out varied but horrific punishments a number of tourists confessed to hearing Jingle bells being played on a bugle, a recurring ailment that will dog the tourists throughout tour. Mr Cox complained that his hat was prone to spontaneous combustion and, come to think of it, he was accompanied by the smell of singed hair for the rest of tour.

The remainder of the ferry trip went without incident apart from a few distressed French exchange students who swore that they had seen Jesus Christ stripped to his Y-fronts running down the prom deck covered in sea spray and singing Le Vie En Rose, strange these gallic types! Thanks must go to Becs XV of Earlsfield, London for adding to the jollity on the ferry.

Calais:

For the tight of fist and the alcoholic Calais is a shopping mecca. Fortunately we had Mme Vinsey. Unbeknownst to the majority of tourists Mme Vinesy had fallen victim to a Ricard drinking, Rohipnol wielding Belgian trucker (correct spelling). Mme Vinesy was found in the company of two other tourists (a scot with a wee willy winky and a fan of botock's injections) who were all espousing the virtue of a golden shower. For those readers who are unaware Mme Vinesy is a Greek scholar and was, in fact, making reference to when Zeus came to a maiden in the form of a golden shower, no really.

Calais to Eindhoven:

The longest and least memorable of trips. For those readers who have never made the journey from Calais to Eindhoven, don't bother. It's flat barren and featureless with only furrowed fields as far as the eye could see, which excited one of the more depraved and 'rural' tourists (you know who you are).

It was about two hours into this leg of the trip we made the discovery that too much Ricard effects your ability to pee. Mme Vinesy, having been unconscious for part of the trip, was most distraught that, having stopped in a nice grassy lay-by, she was reduced to blowing leaves with a well placed fart rather that passing the best champagne.

Hotel Campanile, Eindhoven: AKA Crossroads Motel

Apparently a two star establishment but some tourists were certain that this Hotel had been used as a backdrop in some European film noir they had watched recently.

Eager to stretch our legs we took a quick taxi ride into Eindhoven and its many and varied bars. It is on rare occasions when you have been drinking for in excess of twelve hours that you truly find out who your friends are:-

Some lost the power of speech;
Some tried to pick a fight with the biggest bouncer with the sure fire plan that he had the legs on his man;
Some resorted to in-fighting with the president of the club and famous for his glass jaw;
Some managed to loose the contents of their wallet in return for a kebab and a taxi to the hotel (see also points 1 and 2 above) just like they did in 2000;
Some thought that they were in with a chance with the local 'lekker dings' despite the fact it was under 18 wildlife;
Some remarked on how industrious the Dutch were considering they had managed to erect a Cathedral in the square in the space of the five hours we had been in the bar as it most definitely wasn't there before;
Some, possibly deservedly, found their bed had disappeared from their room;
Some were just too elegant to get involved.

DAY TWO: RC Eemland

Gin and tonic was the order for breakfast, for those who made it in time. And it was possibly the quinine in the tonic water that was to set us up physically for what was about to be the best display of champagne rugby on tour.

RC Eemland were celebrating their 25th anniversary with a mini-tournament. To our surprise we were down to play three games, two of which were to be back to back.

The Pink Panthers
Buckingham RFC (spoke very good English for a Dutch side)
RC Eemland

The Pink Panthers v. Quintin RFC

The annoying one was uncharacteristically quiet but with the smell of Deep Heat lingering in the changing room we ran out to meet the Pink Panthers head on. Some of the tourists swore they could hear jingle bells being played on the bugle at this point.

Mme Vinesy was placed in charge of the club violin and XV men of England played the finest champagne rugby. The Pink Panthers were forced onto the back foot time and time again, forced to kick clear from behind their try line. Failing to find touch the ball fell to the hands of Hercule and the Vicar who ran it straight back at the opposition putting the Tally Man and Psycho over the try line for two well deserved tries.

Conversion etiquette on tour:-

"those individual tourists who find themselves scoring tries must take the conversion directly following the try. The conversion attempt must take place by drop kick and by the left foot."

No points were converted on tour.

The game against the Pink Panthers introduced us to Anton, porn star made famous by those lines in that beer commercial "I've come to fix your fridge" and "but I've forgotten my tools". His wife, "ding dong", is now an avid supporter of Quintin RFC and is looking forward to reading the tour report via the net.

RC Eemland v. Quintin RFC

Heady after our first victory we squared up against the home side and favourites for the cup. This was despite the fact that we had lost perhaps our most strategic and dangerous player through injury in the first game. Why had been given a particularly nasty hospital pass by the Tally Man which, at some considerable pace, laid him open to a vicious covering tackle. By the time the writer of this article got to the scene it was all over, torn ligaments were confirmed and Why's days were limited to obtaining telephone numbers and e-mail addresses off the ladies along the touchline. Why, it's a very good question?

Revived with a shot of Strohl 80 each we played the second game of the tournament, but time, the home ref. and the fact that it was their party, all went against us. The home team, with their porn star looks managed to run in a number of tries against a Quintin team who were beginning to come down after the excess of the night before. Surely it was a pace of life that couldn't be sustained for the four day duration.

Buckingham RFC v. Quintin RFC

The third and final game could be described as the local derby, if it had been played at home and Buckingham RFC weren't in a different county. It has to be said that the home team were treated to a display of fine English rugby by two teams, one of which was clearly off their tits.

It's not often that the words big tackle are used when talking of the Quiet One however, as the Buckinghamshire gimp made a run on the wing it took all the courage I could muster to watch the accident unfold before my very own eyes. The impact, which bounced the gimp off the playing field, put the gimp in his place, 20ft beyond touch amongst the children on the bouncy castle, was truly the hit of the day.

The third and final game against Bucks RFC was as close as you can get to an honourable loss. Bucks RFC having turned up in matching tour jackets from the house of Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen looked far the professional touring side and besides they gifted a dress to their player of the match!

Post tournament the Q's social skills were tested to their extreme. Whilst most of the XV idiots were ripping it up with the RC Eemland crowd and their 'Lekker Dings' the tour C*** from Belgium 2000 was spotted on his mobile phone in a corner of the marquee, little did we know what infamy he was plotting at the time however, it was all to come a little too clear on Monday morning.

Dutch hospitality being what it is we were somewhat reluctant to leave and our heartfelt thanks goes to our hosts RC Eemland (http://httpd.chello.nl/~m.boots/) and the teams of The Pink Panthers and Buckingham RFC for making the day such an event.

Return to Eindhoven meant back to the bars only to find Gwen Steffani and her friends were out for entertainment with a drunk Scottie (scrawny, scrawny, chicken penis) as well as psycho and someone with a dodgy Belgian accent.

Discovery of day two: Dutch fast food out of the Automatik dispenser is great at any time of the day and only 2 euros, t'is good yah!

DAY THREE

Venlo Wallaby's RFC v. Quintin RFC

JC walked amongst us this morning. Our squad was shot to pieces with injuries from the day before. The ranting Swazi had earned his admirals insignia on the field of play at RC Eemland but injured his shoulder beyond economical repair. The Quiet one had an attack of the palsy affecting his right hand and these two injuries had decimated our second row.

We took to the field weakened but unbowed after the previous days good showing. In our calculations before the game we hadn't counted on Colonel Piles (and about as welcome) who was to be the referee. We started badly, hungover and against younger and fitter opposition the previous days jollities were beginning to show. Tries were scored against us and despite repeated kicks deep into our own territory the Vicar stuck to the no kicking rule and ran everything, although maybe slightly slower than normal. It was his creative running, and possibly the judicious use of the parson's nose, that had him score the his first try for the Q's in the second half.

After a miserable first half a rather smashed Admiral (don't buy car insurance off him) marched onto the pitch, changed and ready for action if with only one shoulder attached to its arm. It was then that JC came forwards, the drunken Admiral was sent packing and the Quiet one's 'broken' wrist was healed. Such wizardry was to be his downfall later but it had the effect of lifting the team who then ran in two tries from the Great White Hunter and the Vicar.

Our depleted energy resources were restored in the club bar but it was a somewhat broken side that made their way back to Eindhoven to face the Clubs own legal system.

The charges were, without exception, proven despite some spirited pleas in mitigation from the more senior tourists who confessed to having been trapped between his bedsheet after his roommate had just teased out the sins of Onin. The case hardened Hercule Piorot, as he did in Belgium 2000, showed why he can reduce a grown man to tears, and most of the residents and staff of Hotel Campanile. The various punishments handed down by the learned judiciary saw:-

- Mummification with toilet paper
- Brothers tattooing each others behinds with indelible markers
- A naked Shakira dance through the car park; followed by
- A naked and overt display of formation skipping through the car park; and
- Having to wear clothes back to front and inside out until you arrive in Dover

Kangaroo Court:

The charges were serious enough, the fact that their were so many offenders was a real cause for concern. The Court was made up of:-

Hercule (chief prosecutor to the Star Chamber);
the C*** from Belgium 2000 (Magistrate); and
the Quite one (Final Court of Appeal).

Over and above all the punishments that were handed down much was in the form of beer and the surprise of the tour has to be the Hotel's own Swedish Chef who finished a half yard in record time leaving the Admiral wondering how long it would take for his to evaporate.

DAY FOUR