A Virgins Tale
by John 'John Terry' O'Hara

Thursday
It was with a six pack of beer and just a little intrepidation that I headed down to East Putney ready to get the minibus up to Fairford for my first Ploughman’s tour.  Much had been made of the tour and the must-go nature, and from the early days I had felt that this could be my time to shine as a Ploughman.  Most of the new players had brought something to the table, be it batting, bowling, or merely just a desire to give everyone out LBW no matter how many bounces… so I felt confident that drinking could be my contribution.

A group of fresh faced Ploughmen met me and I was introduced to the concept of the fines book through the regulatory “tour virgin” fine.  We hadn’t even left London and the fines were racking up – although unfortunately I can’t remember details as someone decided it was “funny” to destroy the fines book later in the tour.

Safely underway, it wasn’t long before we were hit by the first big problem – the crate of beer purchased did not even last long enough to get us off the South Circular.  A stop at the services yielded a very tasty selection of Burger King or KFC, or both for Action Jackson, but no more alcohol, so we were forced to wait until arrival at Fairford.

After a brief moment of being provided with our rooms, and meeting with Mark, the man who remembers everyone, it was agreed that everyone needed a drink, not least Noodle, who had managed to drive a minibus faster than most people believed physically possible, only to be let down by Rich Buckley’s abysmal attempts at route advice leading to spending an hour in the only traffic jam in the entire Cotswolds.

Many regular Ploughers were already set up in The Bull’s garden with beers aplenty, and so we dove in. 
Many fines were again accumulated, but unfortunately I can not remember these as some idiot destroyed the fines book.


The regulars start the tour rolling while (right) Rich Buckley sets up for the night

Back in the resident’s lounge after closing and with jugs aplenty, we continued on our merry way.  It was around this time that Rodney joined the tour and declared that it “shirts off or f*&^ off” time – against everyone’s better judgement, we all went with the shirts off option.  Strangely this did not appear to apply to the ladies present.  The logic soon followed that trousers were no longer necessary and, again, everyone disrobed.  Whilst most of us soon got back dressed, Rich Buckley seemed remarkably comfortable in his pants and decided to remain so.

The alcohol started to run out at around three, so, as far as I know, everyone retired to bed.  The last memory I have (well, actually, I only have it because photo’s exist to prove it) is of Spencer thrusting his head into Dawn’s chest.  To quote Perv, “Top knock.”

Friday
Having heard that whether I made breakfast or not, I would be fined regardless, I decided to stay in my pit until half ten, at which point I wandered downstairs to survey the wreckage.  Immediately I fell for my first trick of the tour – peer pressure.  No sooner had fellow virgin Chas “n’Dave” asked me where my beer was than I found myself at the bar ordering a fresh lager.  This was to be the start of a painful journey down a very steep slope.

One by one, we organized ourselves into cars and headed in the direction of Cirencester, a lovely club and ground just up the road.  Further kudos must go to Mr Ridgway, junior, who managed to do the entire journey without dropping below 50mph.  With his charm and charisma, clearly, this man is the next Keanu Reeves.

As one of the many rested men, I took a seat on the sidelines and proceeded to sup on a beer as someone won or lost the toss (I’m going to guess at Tom) and the Ploughmen’s were put / chose to go into the field.  Cirencester batted very well and with their opener making a century and being supported by forty and fifty from numbers two and three, this overs match was clearly going to be a tough game.

Will Barras rests on the invisible cricketer

Amongst the many highlights, and fineable events, was the twenty yard diving slide complete with pirouette and throw by our skipper on the boundary, clearly with the express intention of impressing his mother.  Admittedly for mummy’s boy Lonnen, it worked.

The Ploughmen’s innings was always going to be difficult, but was not helped by some dubious shot selection and a plummeting drop to 11 for 5 before Lonnen got onto the scene to join Rich Buckley.  Mr Buckley departed with the score on 29 and, having made 9, was naturally exhausted and retired to the dressing room for a “power nap.”  Tom and Will Barras put on some good runs to regain some respectability, but once Tom had gone, we faced the misfortune of Chas batting (misfortune because, clearly excited at the prospect of his girlfriend arriving that evening, n’Dave had been drinking since the first over of our innings.)  One duck later, and the match drifted to a heavy defeat, although Psycho, clearly annoyed by, well, something inane, did hit a few hefty blows before being last man out.

Upon returning to The Bull, several wiser members retired for power naps, but others of us hit the drink straight off and the night quickly got into full swing.  Psycho seemed strangely obsessed with Chas’ poshness (to quote “I could smell Chas’ poshness drifting down the wicket”), Harry didn’t know what “tea-bagging” was (and was duly fined) and Tori, fresh from the journey, was obsessed with Dawn’s breasts (“Dawn, I’m not a lesbian, but I can’t stop staring at your breasts.”)  Psycho decided that it was best he check the quality and, yet again, dived in (although this did appear to be hands first, this time.) 

Liz and Dawn clearly enjoying Tori's new found obsession

It was also around this time that Jacko came out with one of the quotes of the tour (well, aside from Tori’s).  Clearly proud of the immense piece of wood that was his new bat, Jacko was heard to say “my bat is so powerful, it can tear a hole in the fabric of time if used incorrectly.”

There are surely many more memories to write about from the night but unfortunately someone destroyed the fines book and I was a bit too drunk to remember.  I do recall Matt’s attempt to get the attention focused back in on him by wearing a very strange pair of pink carnations as ear muffs.  Oh yes, and our Skipper was fined for a fairly obvious trip back to his room with Cally in tow – timed at approximately three minutes 42 seconds…

Saturday
As I awoke feeling “slightly dodgy”, I realised with horror that I was actually going to have to try and play some cricket today.  Having missed breakfast for the second time in two days, I went to the lounge to survey the scene.  Unsurprisingly, Action Jackson and n’Dave were both struggling with life, and Psycho did not seem in the best of states.  Tour veterans, such as Harry, Rodney and Coxy all appeared to be more than happy with things and clearly had spent the previous nights drinking water.

The first and second teams had departed to play in some league matches, so that left the true tourists to play Kempsford, at what had to be one of the most quintessentially English grounds I have seen!  Without going into the detail of the match, the highlights included a very ropey Chas managing to bowl several overs without spilling his guts, Jacko deciding his new bat was too precious to damage and therefore keeping it well away from the ball, and a one-handed over-the-head catch from Yorkshire.  Despite being set what seemed a very gettable total, the Ploughmen ended up hanging on for a well fought draw and the post match beers (as well as the in-match beers) tasted slightly sweeter as a result.

There were lots of fines from the firsts (sadly defeated) and the seconds (victorious) but unfortunately some complete nonce decided to destroy the fines book.  However, the two hour minibus trip back from London did seem to leave our skipper a bit the worse for wear.  Upon arrival back at base camp, Mr Lonnen was displaying an immense inability to walk in a straight line.

The night pressed on and, I have to admit, my memory of events now becomes very, very hazy.  Partly because I decided it was a wise move to “taste” The Bull’s wine selection (for “taste” read “cane bottles of”) and partly because my delightful (allegedly “can drink like a fish”) girlfriend got a touch drunk and decided it was time for a meaningful discussion just outside the main entrance to The Bull.

It was around now that a moment that will go down in the annals of PCC history took place.  Unfortunately it will only go down for the wrong reasons.  I don’t know if I mentioned it, but someone decided it was a good idea to steal the fines book and, in the process, destroy it…..Ironically, the fine received for destroying the fines book has yet to be paid.

After putting my girlfriend to bed, I rejoined the fold for a few more hours but seemed to have missed some strange bonding sessions, judging by the photos.  The Aussie blokes, clearly realising that the English guys had stolen all of the respectable Aussie girls, decided it was time for some lobe-nibbling (step forward Laney & BBB!)

The 'bonding sessions' last well into the small hours

At around four in the morning, I decided to call it a night thinking that it was a bit harsh to leave Nicki in bed whilst I partied – after spending the next ten minutes knocking on my room door, I soon realised that she wouldn’t have noticed if The Bull had been destroyed in a freak earthquake.  Fortunately, I had the sense to push the door and found that it was still open, so at least I had somewhere better than a corridor to sleep!

Sunday
Another morning thudded into reality but, fortunately for me, I was not in half as much trouble as Nicki, so this gave me some extra energy for the day ahead.  I have to admit that the prospect of playing cricket, however, had become somewhat less appealing than on the first day of the tour.

The morning was met with some interesting rumours that I have been advised not to discuss in the details of the tour report, but I should mention that Jacko was later to be fined for an incident involving a broken headboard.  I’m not sure how that happened, but possibly that says more about me than it does about Jacko…

The match was to be played against Cirencester 2nds, with Fairford having pulled out at the last minute, so we headed back up to the Cirencester ground ready for action.  Bowling first, I don’t remember too much of what happened, aside from a very good young batsman scoring a century for Cirencester and a certain Gramps B scoring more runs for the opposition that he had in his previous two PCC matches put together.

The PCC innings looked like that of a side suffering from too much drinking and too little sleep, Jacko having retired hurt and being replaced by PCC non-playing virgin, Taz (who did hit the ball more than Jacko had that weekend.)  Wickets fell at regular intervals, all of our travelling support left for pubs or home (including Nicki despite the fact that I was next in to bat) and we ended up losing by 121 runs.

The team struggled back to the hotel where it was found that our skipper had managed to vomit / sleep his way through our entire match and was therefore blissfully unaware of our combined efforts.  Which was probably a good thing.
The end of tour dinner and disco followed.  I made an early doors mistake of, despite having read previous tour reports, asking Dyll Davies if he was Scottish (well, the kilt should mean something, shouldn’t it!?.)  Rich Buckley did a splendid effort of pulling together the fines report, given that some complete f**&wit had decided to destroy the fines book, several late fines were given for those of us who left to watch the Italy France penalty shoot-out, and generally more drink was imbibed.  Mark also managed to pull together some very amusing fines, although one certain Ploughman wasn’t so impressed at the suggestion the world revolved around him!

The disco included the highlights of the (apparently obligatory) Aussie contingent dancing to Waltzing Mathilda, several impromptu karaoke’s (I can only apologise for my attempt at “Living on a Prayer”), and a game of trivial pursuit that degenerated to people reading out the answer and people having to guess the question.

The disco brought many highlights to the final night on tour

As the night wore on, people started to drift off to bed, and I won’t forget Dyll saying his farewells to everyone claiming that he was too tired to continue, only to be found an hour later imparting wisdom to anyone who would listen down by the bar!! 

Leaving the bar in a very merry state, even the hate being thrown my way by Psycho (who strangely managed to bond sufficiently with Chas to not hate him anymore) couldn’t detract from the drunken euphoria I felt at the end of my first tour as I headed off to bed.

As is always the case, a big thanks must go to Mark and his team at The Bull for hosting us and making us feel welcome.  I just hope that all the Ploughmen appreciate the efforts that must be put in on their side to make this weekend what it is.  Similarly, a further big thank you to all the guys at PCC who organise the tour and put in all the effort to make sure we can get drunk to our heart’s content.

I apologise if I have missed out some great tour highlights.  This report could’ve been better if only
(a) action Jackson had written it or (b) some complete tool hadn’t destroyed the fines book.

JT