The Secret Diary of Phil Gartside.

"Bolton Wanderers' staff are no longer welcome in this establishment!" were the last words I heard from the rather irate woman who ran the posh place we went to celebrate the festivities. I thought that was rather harsh on us.

It had all started rather well with the gang all arriving in decent time and there was a good atmosphere with a small monkey playing a toy piano in the corner and a smattering of background electro pop. A classy joint! It was when the drink started that we had a few technical difficulties. Doris, only used to a couple of Sherries on the big Day per year got leathered and started suggestively throwing cocktail sausages at the Haughton Weavers. One of which threw up everywhere due to a particularly nasty allergy to mini sausages.

That was easily sorted out though and Doris was put into a taxi, the driver given 3 pounds and told to drive until it ran out. (we do have a budget you know). Then comes more of the entertainment which was where the trouble started. Firstly the Balloon animal maker said the Piano Monkey was "Eyeing him up funny" and refused to go on. We sort of smoothed it out after the Car park staff nearly rioted in protest. When he did get started he got half way through, stopped and went for the monkey. There was chaos. 30 people crowding round shouting "Fight, Fight, Fight" didn't help the situation. Neither did Reidy who then showed up with his Fruit punch surprise. The surprise bieng there was no fruit only Turps, Windowlene, Windscreen wash, Lenor fabric softener and Lemsip max for taste.

The Fruit punch was going down surprisingly well and despite losing the sight in one eye things were OK. Then Cheryl arrived. With her own Pole. In a very skimpy outfit which was anything other than Polish national dress. The establishment refused to lay on music for her, so accompanied by the sound of the Haughton Weavers she gyrated her way through her act.

We were asked to leave shortly afterwards.

Feeling bad the next day I try and make amends. Firstly I ring Big Sam as he's had to apologise for Reidy on numerous occasions. Sadly he's busy writing the Queen's Christmas message. Just so long as he doesn't try putting in the story about Joey O'Brien the tambourine, and the Terry's chocolate orange again.

We won over the weekend which was great. Now Doris has come in with a ton of proper biscuits and a flagon of herbal. The perks of Doris' drinking eh? Can't be bad