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Beesotted continues the tale of Bees fan Martin Pither and his tales of football and dating which this time takes him away from London to the North East of England….

You can read the first part of the story here.

Part Two… Terry Hurlock and the ladies of Newcastle

After the divorce, I was left broke and heavily in debt. I used to be a local football referee in those days and I had to take on more appointments on Saturday in the Hounslow and District league so that I could pay the bills. So it was more about Inwood Park, Hounslow rather than Griffin Park, Brentford. I did a few games at the old Brentford FC training ground, the one high up on the way to out growing fan base in Southall; it was incredibly bleak there and I can’t imagine the legendary Stan Bowles enjoying  training much.

Talking of Brentford legends, at a recent match I was in hospitality lounge  where Mike Sullivan, Bretnford’s commercial manager, told me this tale from when he was at Millwall:

 “The local pub sponsored a Millwall game and the ‘guests’ was drinking heavily before the game in the sponsors’ lounge. It was not the typical corporate crowd with prawn sandwiches and it was very noisy. He had trouble explaining the match day procedure including the man of match vote. “Don’t worry,” they said, helpfully, we will do before the match, much to Sullivan’s bemusement…. They completed their slips and only one name appeared: Terry Hurlock…. well after 10 minutes Hurlock was sent off. With a couple of minutes to go the stadium announcer was obliged to announcer the sponsors’ man of match…yes Terry Hurlock, who received at standing ovation! All they wanted to do was meet Terry Hurlock, a player who gave everything and whom they felt was one of them”

Back to my own story – my love-life was about to change when I got a call from Geordie Mick in Newcastle, who suggested a visit up there to cheer myself up and meet some nice local ladies…

One introduction summed it up for me. I was going out with a fun lady from North Shields whose ample breasts were always on display. I was to meet her and three friends and have a night out in freezing January night in Tynemouth, with me the only male in the party.  We met her friends, all wearing very few clothes despite the bitterly cold temperatures and the introduction went something like this:

“Hello Janice – you are a bit late, who is this”?
“Yes sorry; this is Martin, he has been shagging me all afternoon”. (me looking aghast)
“Really”, says her friend; “how would you rate him between one and 10”? (me looking aghast)
“Can’t go as high as one I am afraid,” she says…. (me looking aghast)
“Shame”, her friends say laughing loudly in the pub at my expense
I decide to but in to defend my honour…”no one has ever complained before”
“Really? Maybe no one has been honest with you before”!
Her friends roared with laughter and I was put in my place…

Getting the bus home was eventful; “we don’t pay, we just kiss the driver” they advised…he was very ugly so I had to pay…. evenings in Richmond, Surrey with the boys from Kew CC were never like this.

I subsequently made a few more trips up to St James’s Park to watch the Zebras and I have to admit it’s a great atmosphere with 50,000 screaming Geordies. Geordie Mick’s long-suffering wife matched me to her boss who was a matron at Newcastle General Hospital. To encourage me to visit her in charming Whitley Bay ‘Hattie’, (I’m still not sure of her real name), unbelievably arranged a season ticket for me for the Gallogate end!  I cannot think of many people who had a season ticket for a club 300 miles from home – it was crazy -and it just wasn’t Brentford.

I liked Hattie, she had a good sense of humour and needed it as she worked in a Newcastle sexual disease clinic on a Thursday evening dealing with cases where women had all kinds of things stuck up their rectum e.g. bananas…

Despite some good times together, sadly our relationship was not to be… and my quest for love via football continued…..

Martin Pither

(Part Three coming soon)