Thursday 13th June 2002
 After running around
like a blue-arsed fly last week, I've had a relatively
relaxing few days, watching the games down the pub. Some of
them are charging a fortune to watch the football, not
such a good idea when Portugal v Poland is top of the bill. I,
of course, do not pay to go into a bar, being a local, and
partial to the occasional beverage, I am on very good terms
with the Tokyo hostelries, in fact only the yakuza protection
squads are on a better racket than me!
 On Tuesday I
dragged my tired old bones down to the pub to watch the
France game on the big screen. I watched it in the Little
Euro, crap name for a pub, but best chance of finding some
Froggies! What a result! No French, but beer at happy-hour
prices, a pint of your best Japanese chemical sup for a mere
three spondoolies! It’s actually possible to drink cheaper
than that, but you have to resort to haposhu, a drink which,
by the Japanese tax definition, is not actually beer, but
looks and tastes almost identical, and more importantly
contains the same amount of alcohol. Anyway, although there
was a total lack of snail eaters, the pub was chock-a-block
with Danes, they were having a great time as they chucked
booze down their throats and took le piss out of les Français.
Funny thing though, these Danish blokes must’ve all bought
their shirts at the same dodgy outlet shop, somehow the
colours had run, and the red was where the white should be,
and vice versa.
Popped into the Kentucky on the way
home (other brands of spiced fried chicken are available). It
was packed full of foreigners fed up with chopsticks,
boiled rice and noodles, and unable to find or afford decent
grub. Ironically, the place that does the best British food in
Tokyo is the same place that’s charging twenty quid to get
in!
 Unfortunately, I have
no more England tickets - they’re as rare as fat ugly
Japanese lift attendants! My remaining tickets are to follow
Ecuador, or more likely, the winner of their group. This means
flying to Korea, so a couple of days ago I  went down to the travel
agents to pick up my tickets. I met a few Irish fans there
(real ones, not the Glasgow variety) tearing their hair out,
they were struggling to organise flights to Korea. No matter
how big your pot o’gold, it’s almost impossible when half the
world’s population is trying to do the same thing at the same
time, and you don’t speak Japanese. I’ve already heard of
people having to book ferry tickets! As yet, rubber dinghy
sales are unaffected.
Went back to the bar on Wednesday
to watch England’s final group game, the gathered masses were
a true reflection of the game itself. We drank steadily,
didn’t spill anything. Scott, our host, performed with
consistency, delivering the occasional pizza and chips with
clockwork efficiency. We had nothing to gain by going at it
hammer and tongs, just a nice controlled sesh, after which
there was tumultuous relief and copious celebration. Just had
time to flick channels before the end of the Sweden match.
Classic television! Couldn't resist a quick rendition of
"Don’t cry for me Argentina"!
Job done - second round,
here we come!
|
