Our Roving Correspondent have finally ceased roving and written some correspondence. This is Tom at his best.


The Incontinents Supporters Club Dining Club (ISCDC)
Formation
The TRFC Supporters Club had been plying its weary way across the wastelands of Gloucestershire’s Rugby Clubs for several years. At its peak the club had a membership of five but with the sad demise of Shaky Bill this reduced to a steady 4 members with the (very) occasional guest being invited along (so long as he was prepared to drive of course)

For one glorious period the TRFC Supporters Club roamed far and wide to Somerset and even Devon but the bloody 1st team got relegated after only one season in the SW2 league and it was back to the well trodden paths of Old Centralians, Stroud and North Bristol. Somehow it seemed that the clubs in the SW2 league had more romance to them. Their clubhouses were a lot swisher (very swish in some instances). Their committees turned out to greet the visiting club members and a lot of them had proper stands built out of bricks and concrete and stuff. They usually had some sandwiches and sausage rolls to scoff and there were always a lot better looking birds around than there were in the Western Counties North South West League. There were of course some important disadvantages to this league … it wasn’t all beer and skittles. All the clubs in this league charged admission fees. Admittedly TRFC did as well but it was only £1 at Thornbury. Some of the clubs in the higher league charged £4!!! although this could usually be reduced by claiming OAP status for at least 75% of the supporters club (the exception being Mr Pinder who was only 50 and, although he could pass for an OAP, found it physcologically difficult to voluntarily, place himself in the same, as he would have it, geriatric, incontinent, demographic, social class as the rest of the Supporters Club). The high gate prices though, were but a minor inconvenience compared to the other big disadvantage of this higher league … all the teams in this league were a lot better than TRFC 1st team and the Supporters Club had to come to terms with the cruel fact that their support was not going to stop the inevitable descent back into the Western Counties North South West League.

So … a couple of seasons after the bloody 1st team had been relegated, the TRFC Supporters Club were planning an away trip to play Stroud. The previous week TGGW had mentioned that it was his 59th birthday on the Saturday of the Stroud game. Mr Bignell thought it would be a good idea to stop for a bite to eat on the way to the game to celebrate this milestone. Transport manager (Mr N Lewis) made the arrangements and chose a pub called the Ram Inn, Woodchester Glos. This was, although nobody knew at the time, the inaugural pre match lunch of the ISCDC … During the lunch Mr Bignell proposed that this newly founded tradition should apply to all the birthdays of the members of the TRFC Supporters Club. This idea lasted as long as it took to ascertain that all the other members of the TRFC Supporters Club were born in the summer and the chances of bunking off in the summer to go for a Saturday lunch with your mates were not high … Anyway where would they go if there was no game to go to … the whole focus would be gone, the TRFC Supporters club was an unusual club in that it only existed in the Rugby season. It just disappeared during the late spring and early autumn. Mr Bignell’s next idea was that the nascent ISCDC should meet for every 1st team away game. The committee agreed to this although TGGW was slightly perturbed at the expense involved in this venture … He would have to draw an extra £6 or even £7 out of Barclays Bank every other week. TGGW’s fears were allayed somewhat by the committee who pointed out that it would be still cheaper than it was when they were in the Western Counties 2 league because those trips were a lot longer and cost a lot more in petrol.

The ISCDC flourished under the expert leadership of Transport Manager Mr N Lewis and Catering Manager Mr R Bignell.

After half a dozen away games in the 2006/7 season Mr Bignell decided that the ISCDC should start a Web Blog detailing their eating experiences for posterity. The luncheon venues could be given marks for such things as quality / quantity of food (the latter being Mr Lewis’s idea), service, beer, lager, ambience and size of the waitress or barmaids tits (this being Mr Pinder’s idea because he is a pervert). Some members of the ISCDC thought this was a good idea others thought it was daft, but the committee ratified it and so it had to happen. Mr Bignell was clearly the best person to do this for several reasons:
a) It was his daft idea.
b) He, along with Mr Pinder, actually knew what a Web Blog was. Indeed Mr Bignell had already ‘done’ one and Mr Pinder spent a lot of his time at work visiting some of the less well known (and possibly illegal) Web Blogs.
c) Mr Bignell was retired with little to do all day so this would be a good ‘hobby’ for him.
d) Mr Bignell already got up at 0600hrs every day to play with his computer and had become a helplessly addicted technophile, spending most of his day in cyber space, completely divorced from reality (apart from the short period of time it took him to build his garden pond)

Mr Bignell refused the appointment on the grounds that the TRFC Supporters Club Constitution forbade any member from holding more than one office and as he was already the Catering Manager he couldn’t do it. This claimed, Mr Bignell also ruled out the transport Manager Mr N Lewis. Messers Gracey and Pinder protested that the constitution said no such thing and that in actual fact what the constitution said was that Mr Bignell should be the Web Blog manager and the Catering manager and the Transport manager because he was retired with more time than the other members. Mr Lewis said he didn’t mind doing the transport manager job because Mr Bignell was useless at it (see entry for 30/9/06). The argument raged on, Mr Pinder somehow managed to wheedle his way out of it by claiming that if he wrote the Web Blog it would only be suitable for viewing after the witching hour of 0300hrs (that’s very early in the morning) and TGGW was eventually appointed Web Blog Manager. TGGW’s terms and conditions have yet to be agreed but he eventually succumbed to the pressure (from the bone idle Mr Bignell) and the ISCDC Web Blog came into existence.

As a point of Historical Interest (HI) it should be noted that the ISCDC was not formally recognised by this name until TGGW started writing of this Web Blog (17/10/06). It used to be simply called, the TRFC Supporters Club. Then when the Web Blog idea started to form it was christened the IDC (Incontinents Dining Club) by Mr Bignell during an exchange of e mails with Mr Pinder and TGGW (Mr Lewis did not have a computer although he had recently acquired a mobile phone (for emergencies only). The IDC name was only in existence for a week before it was changed to its present form.

So what follows is a record of what the ISCDC ate in various pubs whilst travelling round Gloucestershire to watch the 1st team play. Oh bugger … TGGW is still having reservations about this daft idea because he has now found out that the purpose of a Web Blog is to get people to read it and if a lot of people read it you can put some adverts on it and charge the people who want to put the adverts on. Then shortly after this you become an internet trillionaire and retire (apart from Mr Bignell who is already retired and couldn’t get any more retired). Well … TGGW has spotted an important flaw in the ISCDC plan. viz … there will only be 4 people reading the Web Blog and this number seems unlikely to attract many advertisers … no wait a minute there will only be 3 people because TGGW will certainly not be reading it because he will have writ it … no hang on a minute … there will only be 2 people because Mr Lewis has not got a computer. Is it bloody worth it!!!

Ok we will do it for a bit … until somebody gets bored. Note that the first 4 entries in the Web Blog took place a long time ago (starting 8/4/06) before the bloody Web Blog idea was conceived. Obviously nobody took note of what we ate, what the beer was like or how big the barmaids tits were, so these first few entries may be a little sketchy or even completely made up … apart from the quality of the beer/ lager which everyone remembers.

April 8th 2006 ‘The Ram Inn’ Woodchester Glos
It was a lovely sunny day. Mr Lewis had chosen the pub because at this stage nobody realised that eating lunch on the way to the game was going to become a tradition that required the services of a full time Catering Manager.

Mr Bignell was driving in his little Toyota Starlett and it was very cramped in the back. Mr Pinder & TGGW were the smallest members of the ISCDC and had therefore (as always), been allocated the back seats (it may be that Mr Pinder was a touch bigger than Mr Bignell but the nominated (nominated by Mr Lewis [Transport manager])) driver usually got one of the front seats. Anyway the back seat passengers were anxious to get to the pub and get out of the back seat of the Toyota Starlett. Although Mr Bignell was driving it was Mr Lewis who was navigating. This was normal because Mr Lewis was the Transport Manager and the only one of the ISCDC who could remember where all the various Gloucestershire Rugby clubs were located. He had, it has to be admitted, struggled a bit when the bloody 1st team had been in Western Counties 2 because a lot the Rugby grounds had never been visited before but on these occasions Mr Pinder had come to the fore with a web site map of the club’s location. The trip to Stroud should have been straightforward, at least for the first 95% of the journey anyway. But, due to the fact that a diversion to the pub was being made the normal route to Stroud had been abandoned in favour of a more circular route which took in the pub. This had been the idea but it seemed (to Mr Pinder / TGGW crushed up in the back seat of the Toyota Starlett) to be taking a lot longer that was normal. Mr Lewis explained that it was better to travel along the top of the Severn Valley, gop to the pub, then drop down into Stroud, than it was to do it the other way round. Mr Pinder said that that was all very well but where the #### were they and how long before they reached the pub. Mr Lewis said the pub should be just down this hill on the right … or was it the left. Ah no … it wasn’t this hill … must be the next one … The trouble with bloody Gloucestershire is that all the hills look the same. Mr Bignell said he needed a pee, Mr Lewis said he had wanted a pee for the last 5 miles. Mr Lewis explained that he was taking these special tablets which killed his gout attacks stone dead but unfortunately they also had an almost immediate and deleterious effect on the ability of his bladder to contain his urine. Mr Lewis was thinking of suing the makers of the tablets because there was no mention of this side effect on the 5 pages of listed side effects that came with the tablets. Mr Pinder & TGGW did not yet want a pee but past experience had taught them that the need to pee was infectious and it would not be too long before they felt the first ominous twinges. So the need to find the pub took on a new, but familiar, urgency.

Mr Bignell, under instructions from Mr Lewis, turned round at the bottom of another hill, drove back up the hill and turned left. He then reversed out of the left turning back onto the hill, drove another 300yds and turned left again. They drove on a road through a dark wood. this did not look promising but Mr Lewis was getting more confident, he was sure he had seen that pink cottage (with a wolf banging on the door) before. The road led to a little village with a road so narrow that even the Toyota Starlett had trouble negotiating. The Starlett carefuly wound its way round a series of blind bends (it was of course driven by Mr Bignell, the Starlett could not drive itself) Then just as the occupants of the car were preparing to jump out of the car and head for the nearest tree, the pub came into sight. The pub probably looked quite pretty from the car park but no one noticed because everyone was running for the bog.

There was a big menu in the bar of The Ram Inn. Some of it was written on plastic covered menu cards other bits of it were written on a blackboard. There was also a lot of beer to choose from. Beer drinkers have a lot more trouble deciding what beer to order than lager drinkers do because most brands of lager taste exactly the same ie of nothing. Beer on the other hand had many different tastes, some good some bad. TGGW preferred the security of beers like J Smiths, Tetleys or Courage Best. Mr Lewis on the other hand was more adventurous and leaned toward real ales. There was no Smiths, Tetleys or Courage Best in the Ram. Consequently Messer’s Bignell & Pinder were half way down their first pints of Fosters and well on the way to deciding what they would have for lunch (foodwise that is, not the lager which they already had) TGGW was desperately searching for a beer that didn’t have an ‘Old’, ‘Farmer’ or ‘Spot’ in the name, or …. alternatively a beer that was less than &% proof. Mr Lewis was busy licking his lips in anticipation of a jolly good pint of beer whatever it might be. TGGW was in such turmoil that he even, briefly, considered ordering some lager. Eventually Mr Lewis settled for Vllad’s Impale Ale and TGGW for Doom Bar. TGGW had had Doom Bar many times before … it wasn’t a brilliant beer but he drank it because it was named after a famous sand bar in the Camel estuary that windsurfers could jump over when the conditions were right. TGGW had never intentionally ‘jumped’ his windsurfer in his life but he had sailed over Doom Bar a few times at high tide and flat water conditions. He always felt duty bound to drink Doom Bar if it was on offer. Another beer which came into the same category was Spitfire which had to be drunk in memory of the brave few in the Battle of Britain.

The bar was a dark gloomy place with low slung beams and flagstones. A few Gloucestershire people were keeping the bar itself from falling down as they drank cider and gossiped, in their guttural accents about hay, cows, silage and other farming matters. The food was ordered after much discussion and changing of minds and as it was a lovely day and as the bar was so gloomy the ISCDC decided to eat outside on the patio.

The view from the tables on the patio was across the valley and it looked very nice. The waitress was very nice the service was quite quick and that was very nice as well. The food has been assessed in retrospect and may not be totally accurate in either the assessment score or the actual food that was actually had …
Mr Lewis & Mr Pinder… Old Spot Sausages and mash … Old Spot is apparently the name of a type of pig and nor as TGGW thought a beer. This made the eating of the sausage a somewhat maudlin affair as it did not seem right to eat an animal that had got a name. However neither of the eaters were unduly stressed by their consumption of poor Old Spot and gave the meal a 7/10 score and 6/10 score respectively.
Mr Bignell … Wild Truffle Salad … the lettuce was ok according to Mr Bignell but the rest of the meal was a little too bland for his exotic tastes. The meal was scored at 4/10
TGGW … Fish of some description and new potatoes. The potatoes were good because they came with a knob of butter. The fish had little taste and didn’t seem very fresh. The meal was scored as 5/10

The ISCDC tarried in the spring sunshine and managed another pint whilst they gossiped about skittles, Rugby, golf, anti terrorist laws and Big Brother. Then they had to leave for the game.

The Stroud RFC ground was always hard to find and as they were approaching from a different direction the chances of finding it any time soon were remote. Surprisingly, however, Mr Lewis was almost spot on (ahh those poor little pigs again) and after only two wrong turnings they pulled up outside the ground. The man at the gate wanted £4 each off of the ISCDC ! The man at the gate staggered backwards as he was hit by the howls of protest emitting from the Toyota Starlett. Four bloody pounds for Stroud in the Western Counties North South West League!! He must be joking. The man at the gate peered into the Toyota and demurred (although he did look very closely at Mr Bignell [67yrs old but wearing well … it says here]) that he could, he supposed, let them in for OAP prices of £2. This still seemed a lot to the ISCDC but they paid up and drove into the ground. Even Mr Pinder, fiscal matters no doubt having overridden his ego, kept stum and paid his £2.

The ISCDC went for a pee in the rickety old Stroud clubhouse. It was too late, now, for another pint so they loitered about chatting desultorily to the TRFC Chairman, Treasurer and other club supporters. The Stroud clubhouse was an odd place that just didn’t somehow come off and the ISCDC were in any case all feeling a bit like they wouldn’t mind a little nap after their lunch. It was a bit of a relief when they saw the teams come out onto the pitch to start the game. Maybe a bit of shouting and sledging and moaning would revive them.

The 1st team had to win this game to have any chance of staying in the Western Counties North South West League and avoid the humiliation of two relegations in two years. All of the Stroud players were bigger and faster than their opposite numbers in the TRFC 1st team. By half time Stroud were well ahead and things looked bleak. In the second half TRFC mounted a brave and unlikely fight back and the won the game comfortably.

It was a lot easier finding the way back from Stroud Clubhouse than it was finding the way to it. So it was not long before the Toyota was chugging down the M5 and discussions about where they would stop for the next away game pre match meal were under way. A slight problem arose during the discussion because the TRFC bloody 1st team did not have anymore away games. The ISCDC decided to go and watch the 2nd team at Clevedon … a real pits of a club.

15th April 2006 The Black Horse, Clapton in GordanoDecember 30th 2006 ‘The Priory’ Just of the M5 close to Gordano RFC
TRFC were playing Clevedon in the Combination Cup. Clevedon were two leagues above TRFC and although they were bottom of their league it still looked a big ask for TRFC.
Mr Bignall was absent because he had gone to Americal to visit his son, daughter in law and grandchildren for Xmas. Mr Bignall being retired to afford to do this sort of thing and did indeed visit Ameriacal several times a year … mostly at Mary’s behest … but he did, he said, enjoy seeing his grandchildren. Anyway this had left a space in the car to travel to Clevedon and the space had been filled by Mr Bowker who had failed to organise a turd team game and was, thus, at a loose end. Mr Bowker assured the ISCDC members that this was temporary arrangement as he fully expected his beloved turds to make a return to the battlefield next week.
The car journey was a short one and as Mr Bignall was absent it had fallen to Mr Pinder to decide on the luncheon venue. Mr Pinder was ideally suited to this role for this particular game for two reasons.
1) he worked in Avonmouth and was thus well versed on the locations of the various hostilleries on the route to Clevedon
2) He was (or at least used to be) a tight a tight git and the meal therefore was unlikely to cost more than threepence ha’penny.
Messrs Lewis, Gracey, Bowker and Pinder spent the short journey to the pub discussing their various Xmas breaks ….
Mr Lewis had played a computer game (borrowed by his lad from the shop where he worked) that enabled you to play various games such as tennis, cricket, golf and boxing against a real life opponent. The game was called screech or phew or something like that and Mr Lewis played tennis and golf and cricket against his son. He lost all the games and was absolutely knackered after an hours wrist flicking. He did, though, manage to knock his son out in the third round of a boxing match. Mr Lewis did not specify whether this had been a simulated or real life (brought about by the frustrations engendered by his previous poor showings) knockout. For Xmas Mr Lewis had received two cases of some real ale or other and 144 profiteroles. There was no beer left but 14 profiteroles remained.
Mr Bowker had had his sons staying over Xmas and when it was his turn to have his sons he always went next door for Xmas lunch. When it was not his turn he had Xmas lunch on his own. This year his eldest son had asked if he could bring his best mate (from college) with him because the poor lad could not go home for Xmas because it was a long way and he had to revise for an exam and wouldn’t have time what with all the travelling and such like. Mr Bowker’s son’s best mate came from Nigeria and was a prince or something who’s dad owned the second biggest bus company in the country. Mr Bowker’s son’s best mate was 6’6” tall, built like a brick shithouse and could eat anyone under the table so Mr Bowker was a bit nervous about asking his neighbours to lay an extra place but it all turned out ok in the end. Mr Bowker had been keen to get Mr Gracey’s opinion on how this big, black African prince should be addressed. Mr Gracey had suggested that ‘boy’ or ‘Sambo’ might be appropriate.
Mr Pinder had had his girls for Xmas morning then had lunch alone whilst writing off applications for a job selling the Big Issue as he was expecting his 5th redundancy package to come into effect early in the New Year.
Mr Gracey had taken his daughters, son-in-law, daughter’s boyfriend, granddaughter and wife down to stop in a cottage in Cornwall. They had had a great time feeding the baby sheep, swimming in the pool, playing tennis, walking on the coast path, watching the surfers and eating food which was not prepared by the CF.

By now Mr Lewis’s car was speeding over the Avonmouth bridge whilst Mr Gracey attempted to find some proper music amongst Mrs Lewis’s collection of CDs. Mr Gracey had skipped and forward searched through a load of classical sounding music that nobody in the car had ever heard of and then just when he had fond a Status Quo track, Mr Pinder announced that it was time to turn off the motorway. They were, he said, going to the Priory which was just down the road from Gordano RFC. Mr Pinder then proceeded to give Mr Lewis the most detailed instructions imaginable about how he should rive his car in order to reach the priory safely. ‘Get in the middle lane NOW Ned …. signal left NOW Ned … first left then left again …. NO not NOW … Now turn left … straight on … don’t stop … keep going etc etc’ Mr Gracey asked Mr Lewis (in a whisper) if he knew where the Priory was. Mr Lewis answered in the affirmative but indicated that Mr Pinder was harmless and was enjoying the unusual luxury of actual knowing where he was going. This was very true because Mr Pinder’s usual instructions (based, admittedly on internet searched) were couched in caveats and riders and disclaimers as to any responsibility for their actual final point of arrival. Anyway the Priory was fond easily enough, it was after all, only 150yds from the motorway turn off. Still Mr Pinder persisted in instructing Mr Lewis as to where he should park (in front of a gate to someone’s driveway as it happened). Mr Pinder led everyone into the Priory and told them where to find the toilets. He also supplied further information on how to reach the garden and the outside picnic tables (it was by now pissing down with a gale blown sleet) and also where the best place to sit would be.
The beer was ordered (Mr Gracey ~ J Smiths, Mr Lewis ~ Speckled Hen, Mr Pinder ~ Lager, Mr Bowker ~ Guinness) Seats taken and menus perused. Mr Lewis surmised that Mr Gracey would again choose the Ham Egg ‘n Chips because he always did. Mr Gracey feeling he might be getting into a rut and definitely feeling he was being pigeon holed / stereotyped, instead choose a stuffed veggie thing (one of those purple marrowy things) with new potatoes. Mr Pinder chose Toad in the Hole …. Mr Gracey made the point that Mr Pinder always had sausage but nobody ever accused him of being predictable. Moreover Mr Pinder later denied he had had toad in the hole and claimed that Mr Lewis had had it and he himself had chicken. Mr Lewis noted that there were profiteroles on the menu but resisted the temptation and ordered Chicken Monte Christo (or toad in the hole according to Mr Pinder). Mr Bowker who insisted on ordering last asked because he didn’t want to have the same as anyone else ordered … according to Mr Pinder … Chicken Monte Christo (This seems unlikely given that Mr Bowker wanted something different and either Mr Lewis or Mr Pinder had already ordered that dish. However at the time of going to press Mr Pinder is, apart from the author (Mr Gracey), the only source of information). The meals were all very nice scoring as follows:
Veggie ~ 7
Toad in the Hole ~ 7
Chicken Monte Christo ~ 8 & 7
The pub itself scored highly for ambience and the waitresses put up with the inane chatter from the members of the ISCDC with good humour. When asked if we would like the bill Mr Bowker wittily replied … no. The bill was bought and Mr Bowker examined with a scrutiny worthy of an ex bank manager. he noted that although Mr Gracey had had two pints of John Smiths he had been charged for 1 J Smiths and one Speckled Hen. Mr Bowker remarked that this was a minor discrepancy as both beers cost £2.00. Mr Bokwer could find nothing else wrong with the bill and offered to pay with his Tescos card because he would then get some Tesco points. This brought Mr Lewis to life who compared Tesco Points to the old ‘Divvy’ you used to get from the Co-op. Mr lewis could still remember his Co-op number (079412). The waitress said that yes she had heard of the Co-op Divvy scheme because her Great Granddad used to work in one of these Co-op stores. This silence the ISCDC for a while as visions of mortality flashed briefly through their collective id. Then bugger me, it was on to rationing ….. Mr Bowker payed the bill which came to £47.30 and everybody gave him £12. Mr Bowker claimed that this was not fair becaue he was now getting hi meal for £11.30 and everybody else had payed £12 also Mr Lewis had only had 1 pint whilst everybody else had had two. It was, by now, 15 minutes to k.o. so Mr Bowker was told to pipe down and the ISCDC trouped out of the pub to make their way to the Clevedon RFC.
Everybody in the car had played at Clevedon RFC at least three times and only last year they had gone there to watch a 2nd team game. Could they find the ground? could they buggery. Mr Lewis eventually lost patience with the contradictory instructions he was getting from his passengers and pulled up to ask a pedestrian the way. The pedestrian thought for a while then gave some clear, concise and detailed instructions on how the reach the ground. Nobody in the car believed him and the general opinion was that he hadn’t known and was just bullshitting. However in the absence of anything better to do Mr Lewis followed the instructions and 3 minutes later they pulled into the Clevedon RFC Car Park
The game had already kicked off. The pitch was a mud bath, it was freezing cold, windy and occasionally raining cats and dogs but for a few minutes in the second half the sun burst trhough the clouds and created a beautifully surreal landscape out of the cobalt sky, the steaming players and the long shadows of the spectators. TRFC won by 14 pts to 8.
In the fug of the clubhouse, a couple of pints were downed, some raffle tickets were bought and the talk turned to the next round. Gordano AWAY … Did that mean they had to go to the Priory AGAIN. Mr Pinder thought they should. Mr Pinder thought they should go to the priory every week … regardless of where they were playing. The rest of the ISCDC reserved their judgements until Mr Bignall returned.