Well, as Dougal says on the thread about footballers off-duty in Cyprus, I've just come back from Ayia Napa. Shortly before our departure, I had read that it's fast becoming the clubbing capital of the Med, and I can now vouch for that. Well, not first hand, you understand, I mean we raised the average age of the place just by showing up. Mrs DB and I stayed in an admittedly rather upmarket hotel on the outskirts of Ayia Napa, which turned out to be the one that quite a lot of footballers chose, including the ones that appeared in the press.

Now, as others will readily tell you, I'm not the best at recognising players off the pitch, and the hours they kept were about the opposite of ours, so I didn't see that much of them. However, walking past a room with its door open about 10:30pm one night, I couldn't help but hear a a voice claiming loudly that "Golly, Jason, you must have a very small head". Well, that was that gist of it at any rate. The source of this assertion turned out to be Jonathon Woodgate, the small-headed one Jason Euell. They, Michael Duberry and Jodie Morris went off to reception to wait for a taxi into Ayia Napa (it wasn't the night of the England game), pausing readily to give their autographs to an enthusiastic but misguided small boy.

A couple of nights later, and after the article in the S*n, the same group plus several others were in the hotel pool from about 8:00pm until after 9:00pm. They had had a few drinks, there was a bit of shouting and laughing, and a lot of complicated throwing, heading and spectacular overhead kicking of the ball. I hung about for a bit trying to spot Keiron Dyer, but he didn't appear to be there. It was getting pretty dark, so he could have been, but I have a feeling he went home after the press stuff, as I never did see him. After a couple of minutes, one swam over towards me - couldn't see who in the darkness. "Is there some kind of a problem?" he asked. Thinking he'd taken me for the pool guy, I said no, not at all. "Only me and the lads couldn't help noticing that you was watching us". The horrible realisation hit me that they must have thought I was a reporter. "No, no, I'm just a fan" I said lamely. "Oh that's OK, no problem man" was the reply, I thought more than polite in the circumstances. Feeling pretty stupid, and conscious that footballers deserve a holiday as much as anyone else, I b*ggered off smartish.

Their behaviour - apart from the complicated stuff with the ball - was excatly what you'd expect from a group of young men of that age on holiday - and a lot better than many we saw in Ayia Napa. I would be very surpised if there was anything more to the episode on the Monday night, which as someone has pointed out could not possibly have been at the time of the Portugal game from the pictures, because the kickoff was at 9:45pm local time, by which time it was pitch black. And one other angle of the story in the S*n was demonstrably ludicrous: Rio Ferdinand and Kieron Dyer were said to have ridden all the way back from the Nissi Tavern (sic) to their hotel, apparently drunk and not wearing crash helmets. The Taverna Nissi was directly opposite the entrance to the hotel, a door to door journey of maybe 50 yards, perhaps three of them crossing the public but hardly busy Larnaka - Ayia Napa road. Not exactly Rebel Without a Cause, then.

It's safe to say that my opinion of journos hasn't taken a turn for the better. Anyhow, the previous week's close encounter of the footballing kind was classier - coming up in part two.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Answers

Anyway, there we were, staying at the Hotel Aeneas. Aeneas, geezer that escaped from the ruins of Troy carrying the aged Achates on his back, or something. Arma virumque cano, one of the few bits of Latin I can remember. Of course, it was so long ago when I did it that it was classed as Modern History.

I was coming back from a run at about 5:30pm one afternoon. Yes, I know, sad isn't it? I'd really enjoyed one comment that day, which started out as "Look at that bloody stupid..." before segueing seamlessly (as my Les Ferdinand issue NUFC shorts hove into view) into "oh, it's OK son, he supports the best team in the world, Newcastle United!".

Anyway, stumbling back through a hotel passageway towards the shower, I came face to face with someone who looked amazingly like Stan Collymore. We looked at each other. There was no mistaking it, it was Stanley himself. I wasn't sure of the form under these circumstances: exhausted, breathing hard, sweating profusely - and I was a bit knackered too. He'd clearly just got up. Then, his eyes fell on the badge on my Les Ferdinand style NUFC shorts. It was a classic Western-style confrontation: I tensed, eyeing the position of the nearest fire extinguishers...

He snorted. Judging by the volume and resonance of the snort, he'd been practising for it earlier. Averting his gaze, he dropped one shoulder to sell me the dummy and eased past on the opposite side. As he headed for the bar, I turned, and saw another unmistakeable figure - Dion Dublin (well, unmistakeable unless you're Shay Given that is).

I went to tell Mrs DB of my encounter, rashly adding that Mr Dublin is noted for his impressive tackle. "Look," she said, "it's all I can do to keep up with what skills the Newcastle players are supposed to have; I'm not interested". Commendable, but off the point (as it were). Patiently, but foolishly, I explained the nature of the tackle in question. "Er, can we walk round by the bar then?" she asked innocently.

Stan was getting the drinks in, while Dion lounged in trunks and a red baseball cap. Mrs DB's eyes bulged - but rather less so than Mr Dublin's shorts. "Blimey" she breathed. I felt - what's the word? - deflated. Yes, deflated would be an awfully well chosen word. As I moodily watched a bare-breasted girl throwing a frisbee in the pool, I mused on the invention of independent suspension and its place in automotive history.

Next day, Stan and Dion were showing off with a borrowed kiddie's football. A lob from Dion went slightly astray, and Stan, trying to trap it, kicked a litter bin instead. My how I laughed, inwardly of course, as Dion helped him away. So: of arms and the man I tell, how mighty-weaponed Dion carried the infirm Stanley from the ruins... tum ti, ti tum ti, tum tum etc. Come back Virgil, all is forgiven. Didin't he play for Brazil once?

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

He got over his broken leg fairly quickly didn't he....hehe unless he broke it again :))

I met him in All Bar One in Leicester Sq last year when he was with Clarky and a few other Fulham players.....prizer tosser he was

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Welcome back Odysseus! Or is that another thread....Ariadne? :-)

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

You never get any of these goings-on at the "Seaview Hotel" in Bognor. Some people have all the luck.

Great yarn Dr Bill. Welcome back.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Top story Dr. B.

First thing that's made me laugh today

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Great stories, Dr Bill. Won't sell too many papers, though. Now if you change it to Dublin and Collymore in naked romp with frisbee throwing, topless barmaid cavorting in a pool full of U-21's.... ;-)))

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Great story, Bill: welcome back, honey.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Brilliant Dr Bill, I don`t think the Buff will be able to regale you with stories from his weeks break starting 25 th, expect the Birks of Aberfeldy will be full of blazored lemmings scuttling off and on Shearings Coaches, Still if any pal on here happens to be in Perthshire, I am staying at the Breadalbane Hotel , Golf/walks thro the day, dram at night, signing off for 12 days, no need to alert Mountain Rescue/

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Buff, I'll warn them in Perth that you're on your way. I'm in Dunblane/Perth the morra neet. Advice on what to do please if (a) we win (b) we draw (c) the world comes to an abrupt end.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Screacher, lang time nae convorse, pity you were not up next week so we could arrange a meet at Aberfeldy, never hear you mention Aberdeen which I thought would be IBM country?. Should be okay Dunblane/Perth amongst the hunting and as Galaxy once said the twin set brigade, 4x4. green willies(sp wellies), barbour jackets, and the ones not called Farquarson-Farquarson will be Tompkinson-Smyth, Seriously should be no bother, if we win retire immediatly with a smug grin and a large single malt, if we draw gan to bed with a wistful look and a small double malt, end of the world, find a woozy and gan to bed with a bottle of low flyer and a NEWKY BROON CHASER.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000