<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><id>tag:cultzer0s.blog.co.uk,2009-11-11:/</id><title>CultZer0s</title><link rel="self" href="http://cultzer0s.blog.co.uk/feed/atom/posts/"/><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://cultzer0s.blog.co.uk/"/><subtitle>This page is all about your experience as a football fan.&#13;
I want to hear from you if you have a story that will make other people laugh. It has to be set either on the way to a football game, at the actual game, or on the way back. It can be about the players, you or your mates.&#13;
I don't want regurgitation of goals scored. This is about the peripheral experience of football.&#13;
This is about the FANS!</subtitle><generator version="1.0">MokoFeed</generator><updated>2009-11-11T10:19:12+01:00</updated><entry><id>tag:cultzer0s.blog.co.uk,2005-05-14:/2005/05/14/verona_v_inter_milan/</id><title>Verona v Inter Milan</title><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://cultzer0s.blog.co.uk/2005/05/14/verona_v_inter_milan/"/><author><name>AjMitchel</name></author><published>2005-05-14T14:33:40+02:00</published><updated>2005-05-14T14:56:52+02:00</updated><content type="html">	&lt;p&gt;My Brother and I wanted to see a Serie A game whilst staying in Verona.&lt;br&gt;
We arrived at Chievo's stadium looking naive, I gather, from the speed with which we were pounced on by a tout. We didn't speak much Italian. My brother came back from "the deal" happy enough, which said a lot because it was rare for my brother to hand over about £90 and feel happy about it. But our smiles were flipped upside down when a number of Italian fans, seeing the tout scamper off like a cat burgler, came over towards us to gesticulate that the tickets were "no good".&lt;/p&gt;
	&lt;p&gt;"How can they be no good?" I asked. Actually I said: "Errr... how come... no good?" (They knew what I meant.)&lt;/p&gt;
	&lt;p&gt;In reply I saw the sorriest of faces trying to explain to me that we had bought tickets for what appeared to be a little girl with big tits. Clearly the tickets were the same for women and children (but it took me &lt;em&gt;months &lt;/em&gt;to figure that out). After many groans, sighs and scratches of heads, one of the fans decided to summon another tout. About eight Veronese stood around us gesticulating (the Italians do a lot of this) to one another as my brother and I prayed that eight Italians weren't about to scamper off in unison into a crowd like cat burglers. Instead, they got us tickets for the Internazionale end. My brother and I stood amongst smoke, flares and flags and sang "Veronese Pezzo De Merde" (to the tune of: You're so shit it's unbelievable). Apart from the eight superb gentlemen of Verona that had helped us earlier, we meant every Italian word.
&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt; &lt;small&gt; &lt;a href="http://cultzer0s.blog.co.uk/2005/05/14/verona_v_inter_milan/#comments"&gt;Comments&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/small&gt; &lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry><id>tag:cultzer0s.blog.co.uk,2005-05-14:/2005/05/14/title_2916/</id><title>title-22019</title><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://cultzer0s.blog.co.uk/2005/05/14/title_2916/"/><author><name>AjMitchel</name></author><published>2005-05-14T13:40:34+02:00</published><updated>2005-05-14T13:40:34+02:00</updated><content type="html">&lt;p&gt; &lt;small&gt; &lt;a href="http://cultzer0s.blog.co.uk/2005/05/14/title_2916/#comments"&gt;Comments&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/small&gt; &lt;/p&gt;</content></entry></feed>
