Sunday 21 January 2018

No sleep 'til Dublin: There’s this mad French bird all over the media looking for me

The Ledge is in France
The Ledge is in France

A letter from the Ledge

Sorry I haven’t posted in ages. It’s been a bit mad trying to get home since the France game but forget that - bigger problem – there’s this mad French bird all over the media looking for me.

Seriously lads, finally got free wifi at the airport and there were about 400 msgs from people going “Jesus pal! Is this YOU?!! YA LEGEND!” – all linking to a story about this French one and how she has fallen in love with an Irish fan she met in a bar in Bordeaux last Friday night.

Pic and everything. Of yours truly hanging out of her. Suffering Jesus. It’s like “The Hangover 4 – Buckled in Bordeaux”. Needless to say, the fiancé back home was not amused. At least I’m guessing she’s not amused. Haven’t heard from her in two days and her cousin was on Facebook to say; “Cheers, Lover boy! We’re enjoying a surprise week in Marbella, it’s mad how far the deposit for a wedding dress will get you!”

It was just that and a load of emojis (not the nice kind). Long story short, I’ve got one mad French bird who’s apparently on her way to Ireland with a Vera Wang and one ex-fiancé who’s spending the money that was supposed to go on the reception on Apple-feckin-tinis in a beach-bar in Marbs.

And I wouldn’t mind but I barely remember getting a snog and boy is she going to be disappointed when she finds out I don’t actually run a tech start-up on Grand Canal Dock.

Anyhow – good luck to her finding me. We’re all agreed, heads-down, low-profile when we get back, won’t see the inside of a pub ‘till Christmas. Not that we have any choice, the bank accounts are a deeper red than Roy Hodgson’s face and I’m guessing the local Credit Union have pics of us all up by the door reading “Wanted, Dead or Alive.”

The road back was a nightmare. Four thousand of us crammed into a tiny airport in Lyon. It was like The Walking Dead meets Après Match. Two girls at the Ryanair check-in desk fainted from the beer fumes and there was one lad from Galway who couldn’t say anything other than “Shane Long’s On Fire”.

Over and over again. The security guys were trying to ask him if he’d packed his own bag (from Lidl) and all he could do was moan; “Your defence is terrified”. Some trip. Mad. The Da won’t be able to bore the arses off us anymore with “Ye shoulda been in Stuttgart, now THAT was a jolly”. He’s got two dodgy polaroids of himself and the uncles.

We were on CNN. Had our own French documentary team following us around. We’ve started a saving’s club already. Twenty euros a week for the World Cup. And if ye thought France was mad, the next one’s in fecking RUSSIA!

See ye when I see ye! – The Legend

• As seen on Facebook by Joe O’Shea

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