Arrive early I thought as the ticket said 7:30 pm. Catch up with a few of the lads, have a pint or two before the madness began. I arrived at the Sylvestrian in plenty of time. Parked the car up, as I was the taxi for the evening. All the lads bailed out of my small, mass produced, badly built Fiesta. Tickets at the ready we entered the venue at around 7:20, expecting a small gathering, but the place was already rocking. The two burly doormen, Frank and Ray I believe they were called, collected our tickets, and pointed us in the direction of our table. What more could you ask for, a table right at the front, prime seats, right next to our hero’s of yesteryear, but more importantly right next to were the food was served from.

Get into the waitress I told the lads, there always spare grub at these doo’s. Started talking to this sixty odd year old bint,who would not go a miss when the slowies comes on at the big G. She had an old sounding name like Muriel, Irene or Mildred, but for convenience sake, we shall call her shite arse, because in conversation, she told us all that’s who she supported. All the banter started with her, and suddenly to me, she did not look like that stunner from the G, but some old sorry has been who was serving me my tea. Extra portions did come, and welcomed gleefully by our merry little gang, so with our bellies full and ale flowing readily, we were awaiting our night of Legends to begin.

Who like me when they hear Z Cars gets that funny tingling all over? I was blessed with an incredibly hairy body. Not dissimilar to that of a Greek Love God, and the feeling when all them hairs stand on end, is one of indescribable joy. Enter the gladiators into the auditorium to a crescendo of noise. Z Cars piped up and introduced first was big Roger, a stalwart of the seventies era. Championship winner and a blue through and through, a standing ovation thoroughly deserved. Next up was our loveable Basher, extremely nervy looking, and we found out later why. A standing ovation ensued for the former joker in Howard's pack. He may have fallen on hard times, but he is still a blue, and I personally shall love him for that alone. Next up was one of only five players in the entire history of our great club to pick up the FA Cup on the steps of Wembley. Dave Watson, the gaff erupted as a certain Jogger might say. Dave is currently on the After Dinner Circuit and also holds a position on the Cheese Advisory Council, an honour bestowed on him after his love for a good Edam became public knowledge. Last but by no means least was the one and only Sharpy. Leading post war goal scorer, all time second only to the great Dixie. FA Cup winner, two League titles, European honours, the place went fucking berserk. I nearly come in my keks right there and then, but a quick glance at my waitress from the Big G, suddenly turned me knob floppy again.

Roger Kenyon, Graeme Sharp, Dave Watson, & John Bailey

Introduced also on this great evening was Dixie’s daughter, who was rightly presented with a Magnum of Champagne to celebrate her Fathers remarkable achievement. Some old timer called Cyril recalled Dixie scoring his sixty goals. Personally I think he did well to re collect this from seventy five years ago, as I cannot remember fuck all about what I did last week. Still it was nice for the old guy and I am sure he was well catered for in the alcohol department.

Now luckily I have been invited by the Kipper lads to a few meals lately, and at most of these Wayne's mum has been introduced. It never ceases to amaze me, but the reception she gets is to put it mildly unbelievable. She must make the best school dinners in the world, as men off all ages go absolutely mental when she enters the room, I am told she makes a grand Shepherds Pie, but her Paella needs some work, so maybe WHEN WE qualify for Europe next season, she can brush up on Her continental culinary skills.

The question and answer session then ensued, with the normal who was the best, shittest ,funniest off all time. The highlight off this session was the famous tale Sharpy told about Sheeds and Martin ‘Brad Pitt ‘ Keown. I seriously nearly pissed my pants, because lets be honest he is SHITE, and I bet you his brother is a crap plumber to boot.

The comedian came on and did his stint, and in all fairness to him he started badly then faded. He obviously has a crowd who he caters to, but as there was no blind mutes in the audience he was on a downer from the start. Highlights and lowlights of the evening for me came in one brief fleeting moment. Lard was summoned to the stage, by an excited boyfriend. Music piped up, to quieten the noisy uncontrollable rabble, and on stage came this tart who whipped up her skirt to reveal her Everton tattoo. Her boyfriend who was ever so proud of this obviously shy, retiring young damsel could not contain his delight at the thought of his bird showing off her hideously over weight fat cellulite ridden arse. Those six hot pots eagerly scoffed by myself earlier, nearly resurfaced at this point as this alarming over weight thing paraded her chocolate starfish off to the madding crowds.Time to go I thought, as our Fulham weekend was looming closer.

Once again Kipper, Lard, Jogger and Sausage have done us proud. A fantastic evening hopefully was had by all, so I hope we see you all next year at the 4th Annual Blue Kipper Award Evening. Lavington Spar. (19/05/03)