Now fixed on the  22nd to 25th October, due to cheaper flights. Based on 13 people, the actual flight costs will be £134.60.

Accommodation (to be confirmed) is the Oasis Hotel, based on twin sharing, plus one triple (all to be confirmed and could change closer to the time).

Transfers from Faro Airport to Hotel and return on departure (around 40 minute drive).

Provisionally 3 matches with referees.

• Friday v CD Canela at the Estadio Municipal in Ayamonte
• Saturday v CF Ayamonte Veterans. Venue to be confirmed.
• Sunday v Destination Football at the Estadio Municipal in Ayamonte.

Based on 13 persons, the hotel price and transport, with games, etc. will cost £141.

Flights, as mentioned, cost around £134 (if we have 13 people – any more or less; the price will go down or up), so total cost for the tour will be around £275 to £285. The only thing not included is transport back from each game, but that won’t cost too much as the venues are near to the hotel.

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Juventude Sport Campinense 1 Sassco.co.uk 1.

As expected, the paranoia kicked in about 6:00pm on the Thursday evening. I must have sent around seven or eight (or more) texts to everyone with subjects ranging from passports, to times, to kits, etc. Most didn’t get much sleep. I struggled to get some shut-eye from 7:00pm, but eventually crashed out at around 10:30pm and had a good sleep. Being paranoid, I told Dave Smith, Scotty H and Harper to text me the instant they woke. I also warned everyone I’d be texting them when I was up.

Around 5.30am and the pre-match alcohol has begun to flow with Cresswell, Muers, Greenwell and Dave Smith. Double whammy for Greenwell. First, being sick several times and second, having his passport photo from his car thief days being shown around. Dixon, Greenwell, McConville and Muers.

Timing seemed okay. Scotty and Tash were picked up on time and then over to Dave’s. In check-in, I was a bit worried. The worst thing to happen would be a suitcase loss. My oversized Adidas wheelie bag had to be checked in at the oversize section. Security was quick and in no time we were at the bar having a few drinks and breakfast.

Only delays were Emu, Greenwell and Cressy. The nonces were standing outside the aiport downing their final cans of Stella. Apparently they were bombing down the A1 due to Muers forgetting his mobile charger. Both Muers and Greenwell caught a glimpse of Cressy’s mother and instantly had the hots for her. Mentioning her around twice every five minutes from then on. She had made them turkey sandwiches. Both Muers and Greenwell are now fighting each other for the opportunity to become Cressy’s stepdad.

Me and Cresswell celebrating the fact that Emu left his money and cards at home and has become the official tour beggar / skip rat. Muers let loose with the camera enjoys the scenery.

Timing was getting better. Greenwell was bricking it on the plane and made full use of the sick bag. He also enjoyed several trips to the toilet. He also focused on McConville’s eyebrows – who made the faux pas of admitting his lass plucked them.

Eventually we landed and then another priceless moment (all caught on camera) was the removal of the smirk on Emu’s face when he realised he’d left his money and credit cards on the mantlepiece. He had to sub the Euros off me and others. And began to come up with schemes in order to raise funds such as male prostitution, tricks for Greenwell and mugging some locals.

The baggage also came in perfectly, and in the sweltering heat (yes, get jealous) we were on our way to the magnificent hotel. A real impressive site and ten-fold better than the shanty town we were in Malta. We turned up in the lobby and saw the welcome sight of a large sign / banner detailing our fixtures. The only hiccup was that mine and the Tash’s room along with Marky’s and Bianca were ready, but the others weren’t until a few hours later. I made sure the Sassco flag was flying outside our room, but eventually we asked to take it down. We all crashed in mine or Greenwell’s anyway and within minutes, we were by the pool in a perfect spot next to a few topless birds.

Better hotel than Malta. Even the cockroaches are smaller.

First serious training occurred with water polo (or handball) with a Sassco ball. We discovered that McConville’s shooting was pants. Several players nearly drowned. Best moment was Muers, submerged slowly coming to the surface head first. I waited and cannoned the ball off his head to get a bit of height to get the ball to Hembrough who nearly netted (scored or whatever they call it). After that, the fun and frolics continued with both Muers and Greenwell getting more affectionate towards each other. But that was probably Emu trying to get more funding off his pimp.

We met Gary Thomas, the tour operator who gave us the low down and a round of drinks. We also noticed a decent article in the local paper about us. After this we had lunch in a local restaurant, but Cressy and Dave Smith went to McDonalds.

Quite a few crashed out at the hotel after this, before the big game.

Hembrough, Paul, Gourlay and Harper.

We walked it there. The stroll was around ten minutes up and down the hill and towards the original venue we were due to be in. However, we knew in advance that it was the excellent training 3G turf we were on. The team talk was good and the pre-match training was great. Only cock-up was Hembrough and Cresswell not having blue socks, which meant me and the Tash had to remove ours and give to them. This meant a swap over if any subs. Image is everything.

The match kicked off and our opponents, like us, were all shapes and sizes. We were performing better. Scott Hembrough broke the deadlock from a Greenwell through ball and looped the ball over their ‘keeper. Later on, Greenwell said to him, “Was that a Poborski style goal?” response: “No, Scott Hembrough, you daft twat.”

Priorities. The flag was erected immediately on arrival. Sangha and Hembrough suffer in the humid evening on the bench. Hembrough, like in Malta, scored the first Sassco goal and wins a £13 bonus. Plus, Gourlay continues the second half. George Dawes, what are the scores?

Muers, who was walloping around like a sap, then had a great chance to double the lead, only to see the ball strike the ‘keepers legs. It was then that we suffered in the heat. Dave Smith was called on for some great saves and his defence in front of him (Tim and Paul Mc) were very strong. Dave Smith looked for the short option to Dave G at left back all the time and we built from the back.

Second half saw tiredness kick in. They eventually equalised from a quick free kick and came into it strongly. Rolling subs came on. I came on for Dixon just after a massive “take them f**king socks off!” slanging match with him, and nearly had a perfect chance to score. I chested it down in the box and was about to let loose a left foot screamer until Muers came steaming in and shouted “bury it” which resulted in me completely missing the ball. Harper later said that had I scored he would have walked off and gone home.

Harper, Mulvaney, Sangha and Dixon (suffering) relax in the stadium restaurant afterwards.

More chances. Cresswell clean on shot at the ‘keeper, then right at the death, Marky’s cross shaved the post and Emu decided to nod it wide. So close. Torrents of abuse were heaped on Emu afterwards when we had a chargrilled chicken buffet at the stadium. I received several texts in response to the result and Emu’s miss. Most replies were to drop him.We’ve come to the conclusion that he whispers “Emu up front, Emu up front, Emu up front…” in Greenwell’s ear when they’re asleep together to subconsciously force him to play him in attack.

By midnight we stumbled back to the hotel. Si took afront at some public display of affection when Marky and Biance were hand-in-hand down the street, but I said if it’s acceptable for Muers and Greenwell, it’s good enough for anyone.

Some idiot, probably Cressy, rang my apartment door bell early in the morning and I discovered about eight missed calls from him on my phone. It was on ‘silent’ any way. Nob head must have locked himself out of his room.

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An opening day disaster in every sense of the term.

We were already quite short. Gourlay and Graham were missing. Tim and Campbell weren’t there and Marky Mark was also absent. In place we had Wayne Ramsay and Steve Stubbs helping out.

However, it wasn’t some much the 2-0 defeat, but the complete indiscipline late on. We were getting butchered in the surprisingly goalless first half, but after Tyson had put Cambridge 1-0 ahead in the second half, we had our best moments. Titch, coming back from injury, looked threatening, but missed two glorious chances. Stoker, playing in attack, saw his header shave the post.

It was then that the nastiness came out. Stoker and Nelly were at each others throats. Nelly was playing with an injury, so he had his excuses. Stoker walked off with two minutes remaining after Cambridge scored their second goal.

Stoker, Richardson, Farquhar and Langan will be absent from the next game due to the fact that in my team talk, I clearly stated players won’t be playing if they don’t help with the nets. I’ll stick to my guns.

Harper also failed to show as he had to arrange a hospital visit.

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The costings for the tour are in. The total to pay overall is £258 per person based on the 13 who are travelling. Obviously, you take off the deposit paid from the £258. So most will have to pay £108 by the end of August.

It works out as follows

£2500 is the total flight and hotel cost. This works out at £192 per person. Please note this is the flights and the hotel.

£859 for all the match, referee, pitch and transport costs. This works out at £66 and is detailed below:

• All transport (by mini buses).
• Airport arrival on Friday to Hotel Paraiso and return to the airport on Monday morning.
• No transport for the match on Friday as we can walk to the stadium, which is only around seven minutes away from our hotel.
• Transport to the Estadio da Nora on Saturday for the match against FC Ferrerias and return to hotel
• Transport to the Alfamar Hotel pitch on Sunday for the match against Destination Football and the return.
• The costs include the three football pitches, including referees.

So the hotel and flights costs of £192 plus the other match and transports costs of £66, means a total tour cost of £258.

Many thanks to Gary Thomas from Destination Football (one of our opponents) for arranging the pricing. Please be aware that it could go up or down as the tour is a good few months away, but in reality the difference will only be a few pounds here and there.

The cost will go down if any more are added to the tour. Note that the 13 include the non-playing Ms. Bellizzi. As of this moment, Marc McDermont and David Murton have not paid any deposit and haven’t had any flights or hotel rooms booked for them.

The post Full tour costs now published appeared first on Sassco.co.uk.

	16th October (Friday)	Juventude Sport Campinense/Loulé	8:30pm	Municipal 3G pitch
	17th October (Saturday)	FC Ferreiras	5:00pm	Estadio Da Nora
	18th October (Sunday)	Destination Football FC	11:00am	Hotel Alfamar pitch

The post Fixtures appeared first on Sassco.co.uk.

On Friday 16th October, our game will take place at the Municipal 3G venue against Juventude Sport Campinense. The pitch is a third generation artificial turf which is FIFA approved and will be similar to the surfaces we played on in Northumbria University, Gateshead Stadium, as well as at the Victor Tedesco Stadium in Malta.

FC Ferreira training pitch. Venue for the Saturday game against FC Ferreiras.

The Saturday game will be against FC Ferreiras in their own 3G training pitch next to the Estadio da Nora. Unfortunately, our original venue, the Estadio da Nora, is being used by the first team, so we have been moved to the more than adequate training venue.

Finally, the Sunday game against our host team, Destination Football run by the tour operator, Gary Thomas, will be on Hotel Alfamar’s grass pitch. The setting looks idyllic and is a far cry from Downhill.

The post The venues in Portugal. appeared first on Sassco.co.uk.

Football venues provisionally confirmed in Portugal

Municipal Estadio de Albufeira. It’s likely that we’ll be playing on this pitch on Friday evening.	Municipal Estadio de Albufeira. We’ll be on the same pitch on Sunday.
Hotel Alfamar Football Pitch. It’s likely that we’ll be playing on this pitch on Saturday.	Hotel Alfamar Football Pitch. A close up of the pitch.

The opponents and pitches have been provisionally confirmed. Bear in mind that we won’t be sure of playing in the large stadium venue as the main team could be playing there.

16th October (Friday) Juventude Sport Campinense/Loulé (8:00pm).
17th October (Saturday) Destination Football FC, a local team.
18th October (Sunday) Albufeira FC (Imortal Desportivo Clube).

19th October (Monday) We fly back to Newcastle. There is also an option to fly back on Sunday evening.

Rough costs are shown in the 28th November news section (just below). So far, William Harper out of the new players has paid his deposit.

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Searing heat combined with massive hangovers.

The morning game was rough. I started due to Emu blowing out of his arse for the previous one. Cressy was well out of it with a hangover. The little spotty virgin could barely handle it. Luckily, Marky’s Missus, Bianca, was on hand to record the games. To be honest, had she not been there, it likely we wouldn’t have recorded the footage we had, so many thanks go out to her and also a medal for suffering a bunch of fuckwits making an arse of themselves. Ironically, she was much better at recording than me, because I tend to look up and bollock Emu, while play is going on elsewhere.

Cressy had to go off for Emu, but then I was blowing out of my backside after seventy minutes and we dragged Cressy back on. The eventual loss was 4-0. After the game we spent a bit of time at the stadium with a few drinks where I managed to meet Pierre Azzopardi, the person who’d arranged the perfect tour.

Back after the game, it was fun time. Macca and Cressy crept into Emu’s room and doused him in shaving foam. Completely fast asleep and all recorded on camera.
The big shock of the day was Dixon’s new look. The closest we could say was a sort of candidate to assassinate Obama. A red neck, yokel with a straw in his mouth. “Just call me….Digga,” he growled during the night.

We also went to watch the SAFC match at a local pub where Emu was demonstrating the microcosmic version of the English Lout, shouting and balling at the screen when Sunderland lost. Actually, when Defoe scored, he shouted, “I hope you die, you gap toothed twat,” while Greenwell was sitting next to him. No consideration whatsoever.

Then it was the night out. The place was St. Julians, and I’m not exaggerating when I say it was wall to wall pussy of the finest kind. The problem was that they were all so fucking miserable, there was no chance for any of the single lads. I think you’d need a subway sized cock (and make it a foot long) encrusted in ribbed diamonds and balls the size of Emu’s head to get any joy. Cressy did actually snare a young un, but like his passing and link up play, the thick cunt lost her in the crowd. Also, apparently he was nearly in luck with another girl, until someone told her he was only 14.

We actually started off in Fuego to see Ken Camilleri the Manager of XFM, Malta’s local radio station and also the manager of the bar. We got a full set of free drinks and spent a good hour in there smoking the pipes of peace and generally pissing off the locals in for a “quiet” drink.

It was then to the bar where Cressy got (and lost) his bird. Ironically, it was the similar pattern to his facebook relationships. He announces he’s in a relationship, then when you press CTRL and F5 around four times, she’s dumped him. This was the bar where the birds were dancing on the table and where Scott Hembrough was bumping his arse with a fine looking one in denim. Yet, when he turned his back, he was bumping it with a fat heffer and nearly shite himself when he turned around five minutes later. Scott also nearly revealed his thong, but it was way too dark.

A bar later, we all crushed Emu as he was seating in a comfy chair. I then tried to give him some Vodka and coke, but because I was rapidly getting drunk, poured it into into his eye instead. Greenwell’s chat up line was, “How you doing?” in the manner of Joey from Friends. He actually sounded like Watto, the flying slave trader who looked like a turd from the first Star Wars film – Episode One.

Then, the infamous lap dancing bar. I saw a taxi rank and it being 2:30am, as well as me drinking more in one night than I have in five years, I decided to conclude the night. Marky Mark and Bianca had left just before me as well. In the club, an anonymous person spent around 60 Euros on three lap dances. He then asked the fancy bird for a suck which cost an extra 30 Euro. This resulted in three sucks before she fucked off with his cash. Arse!

Another bright spark spent around 40 Euro on champagne and a flat chested bit of stuff on his knee. “like an ironing board with two cherries on top,” was his description. Finally, everyone chipped in around 20 Euro each to get Scotty an on-stage dance. He did all the Sassco lads proud when he dropped his pants for the bird, exposing his thong. Apparently, the look on her face was priceless. Not that I was there to see it.

They all went into some strange dingy bar where Emu was banging his head on the wall as well as all of them writing on the wall before realising there was a CCTV camera in the top corner watching them.

The trip back to the hotel for some of the players was scary, as they got in with Ridge Racer, who was blaring out some loud music while driving a tad bit too fast. Ironically, Paul McConville nearly caused a fight at the start of the night when he ordered two taxis by mistake. Both the taxi drivers nearly laid into each other. When Muers and co came back to the hotel, it was partially locked. They managed to creep in while Greenwell did his “Manuel” impression behind the counter while dishing out the keys. The hotel porter eventually came down and Dave Smith called him a “dirty, perving bastard,” as he was probably sneaking in and out of someone’s room.

Cressy and Macca, being quite clever, locked their door before the night began, but being thick as pig shit, left their key at reception, where Muers and Greenwell asked for it and sneaked in and shaving foamed the entire room, their boots and all. Greenwell was ready to take a dump in the cushions, but Emu stopped him for some reason. I’m really worried that I’m going to get a call from the Hotel when back in England, saying that a shocked cleaner found a steaming turd in the third drawer from the left. It wouldn’t surprise me because the room was lifting.

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