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Sunday, 12 August 2012

image for Martin Shuttlecock's Letters from Barcelona - Day Four - The Nou Camp We Want Our Trophy Back!

No trip to Barcelona is ever considered complete without a visit to the magnificent Nou Camp. Which is where Martin Shuttlecock went on Friday, accompanied by his football loving son in law.

Who filmed the event for posterity, unknown to Shuttlecock.

"He had one of them orbital cameras," Shuttlecock revealed. "What does films and that. I didn't know he was filming it. I thought he was just taking the odd snap. Mind you - the film he shot was rubbish and mostly showed not much of anything, apart from some bird's arse as she was walking up some steps."

Shuttlecock revealed that, following a stroll around town, the son in law and him took the Metro out to Maria Cristina.

Then it was a quick stroll down the road, punctuated only by a beer stop, because the son in law was dying for a piss, and on to the legendary Camp Nou.

It's impressive.

As far as Shuttlecock was concerned, the visit was tortuous.

"I've been there before, for a match like," he told a Skoob News reporter. "But I hadn't been to the museum. It all seems a bit weird to me, to go to a football stadium when there isn't a match on, but the son in law wanted to see a hundred thousand empty seats, and watch the grass grow on the pitch. At least I think that's what he was looking for, because there was sod all else happening."

It transpires that Shuttlecock and the hidden camera weilding son in law tromped about the Nou Camp under the stands for a bit, seeing the dressing rooms, the trophy room, the chapel, a bath, some backlit screens with pictures on them - one of which depicted David May and the United treble winning team of 1999 parading the CL trophy in the Nou Camp.

"There were some Dutch blokes posing in front of the United picture," Shuttlecock explained. "They didn't even know who Dennis Irwin was. So I put them right on that one. Then we went up to that TV gantry under the roof. I think that's where the son in law took all that film of that bird's arse. Anyway, it nearly fucking did for me did that. All them steps? At my age? To watch the bleeding grass grow? You're havin' a Turkish, mate."

From that point, things just got worse for Shuttlecock.

"They had the European Cup on display. Four of 'em. The arrogant Catalan twats. Just because they wiped the floor with United twice, in finals, doesn't mean they have the right to flaunt it. I cried me eyes out, I did. Slathered, puked and folded like a little girl in floods of tears. I just couldn't take it any more.

"Then we saw a bloke who I thought was none other than Lionel Messi, so I showed him a few moves in the corridor, and explained how to beat a keeper in a one on one every time.

"Turned out it wasn't Messi at all - it was some Norwegian farmer, but he thanked me anyway.

"I just went back to the apartment with the son in law, stopping off to get a kebab on the way coz I was Hank Marvin. Don't remember much after that. I think we went out that night drinking Absinthe. It's all a bit of a blur really."

And days five, six and seven?

"I'll catch up in time," Shuttlecock said. "That's if I can remember what we did..."

More as the amnesia subsides.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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