So what would we make of The Lisbon a vibrant city centre venue, based in Victoria Street, in the heart of Liverpool’s gay quarter. The Lisbon is a grade 2 listed Victorian building with an ornate ceiling that will take your breath away! Ok Ok thats the Lisbon gag out of the way early lets get down to the serious stuff and up at 3am on Friday and onto Liverpool airport for Sausage on toast and a Desperados at 3.50am and the party had started for the second annual football trip away to Lisbon. With a couple of more drinks including a Magners on the plane for purely thirst purposes (Honest) we landed in Lisbon just after breakfast and after a wild cab journey through the crowded streets of Lisbon we managed to survive without a major road traffic accident and as we were early for our room we headed over the road to a small park and sampled some continental cafe culture in the guise of 5 large Sagres times two. At this point we seen a woman (Yes I know) do some of the best reverse parking we had ever seen. Finally up to the splendid apartment we had I managed to nail the best bed though for some strange reason wasn’t allocated a bedroom door. To stop us fully going on the piss we decided to head up to Benfica’s ground for a tour though still managed a bevy up there. We decided to venture up there via the Metro and what a great idea that was as we continued using the metro all weekend. The ground itself housed a great museum with what can only be described as the best trophy room I have seen which was over several floors which you could stand at the bottom and look up. There was so much to do in the museum (including a great bit on Eusebio and some boss original Adidas items) but we had the actual ground tour to do as well and had to rush off.
All the run of the mill stuff on the stadium tour and now completing the circle of the great Ronaldo and me having occupied the same space though sadly Ronaldo never quite reached his potential but does have a better figure than me. I spotted a lovely retro Benfica top but Ronaldo has the last laugh on me as it didn’t fit ! So we had a pint and headed back via the Metro deciding to get off at the waterfront for some more cafe culture though we soon sussed it was bit rough and ready with some shady looking meff’s offering to help people reverse park for money and we quickly drunk up and headed up what can only be described as hills totalling the height of Moel Famau but with the added dimension of slippery vintage tiled pavements covered in the early evening rain falling from the Lisbon sky. With five half pissed scousers attempting this summit it was fun at times. We stopped off on the way and some more cultural bars and even ended up all having a glass on wine each and yes we did hold our little fingers out as we drank. Watching the sensible people of Lisbon getting the tram we continued up the hills and steps eventually making it to base camp and the Irish bar called “The Corner Bar” after a couple of more drinks we headed for a scran over the road and on leaving me and a mate would be hemmed him and decided just to turn around and drop the six inches out of the window. The man on the door politely said “That is a window not a door” to we we looked at him drunkenly bemused and said so it is. Boozed up Brits abroad jumping out of six inch high windows. Cant take us anywhere. Around the corner to a bar we didn’t get the name of the DJ banged some Beatle songs on and away we went. We did try and leave this bar but it was pissing down and we got about two metres out of the door and turned around to party on and one particular lowlight was a pint of Mojito. Fuck me who puts leaves in drink and the only thing I like mint is an Aero. A picture paints a thousand words part one.
We fell in about 2.15 so I narrowly missed out on a 24 hour drinking session but I think it was a world record. Come Saturday morning I was feeling pleasantly OK and after a lovely morning lounging around the house we headed out for brunch AKA burger and chips. I had a blue Adidas top on with yellow trim and one local walked past me and said ” Ahhhh Swedish and give me a big up” We strolled around the sprawling streets of Lisbon (Downhill this time) and found a square with a few bars the first of which didn’t sell beer just wine. We weren’t in full on “Quilt” mode at that point but the next bar done large Sagres. Finding another Irish Bar and a power cut and then a British Bar (Yes we are culture vultures) we then headed up to the Sporting Lisbon match a man down who stayed and then went to bed as Friday night had caught up with him. Sporting stadium itself was nearly the same as Benfica’s but just a touch smaller. The hotdogs were not a nice as Barcelona’s last year and even came with mini chips crisps on ?? The football itself was shite with Sporting going one nil down in the final 20 mins of the game. We headed home on 80 mins to beat the match rush to The Metro to get back on the ale as it was alcohol free in the ground. We did miss a Sporting equaliser in about the 97th min. Highlight of the game was a rendition of “My Way” just before kick off and I must remember to use Sporting Clube de Portugal as their name.
So we headed back to the Corner Bar and it was about 9pm and never mind boozed up Brits abroad but this was boozed up French abroad. I have never seen French people having so much fun apart from the odd dodgy VHS video I was passed in the early 90’s. They had the DJ putting on some French classics and had the whole bar including us with the “La La’s” in the song but never fear this was a marathon not a sprint and we would prevail in the end as he had the French singing “Hey Jude” with us and I done my bit to mend European relations after Brexit and voting to leave myself (No I am not a fucking raving racist) We had been offered drugs several times walking the streets of Lisbon though the best effort was from a man who signalled to me through the glass door of the corner pub doing a snorting motion. Sadly I just said no and waved him away but then just seconds after thought I should have done the signal back to him of me tightening a belt on my upper forearm and then tapping my veins and inserting a needle. The joke that got away. It was back on the wine for a few quegs as I switched to vodka red bull. One old French man wanted his missus to take a picture with the two young girls serving drinks and they were not overly keen to snuggle up to him so we dived in front of the french man and invited the whole pub to get in on the photo which most of them did much to our amusement. Not sure of he ever did get his pervy picture as overtime he then tried somebody would jump in on the picture. I managed to avoid a game of limbo in the pub and as the bar shut we asked for our bill and it was about 5 foot long and totalled 330 euro’s though in fairness we were in the bar about 6 hours and every 100 euro’s we must have got a shot each (Two Jameson’s and a Samuka) the bar manager kindly let us leave last and we headed home having to carry somebody again. We dumped him in his bed and had noticed opposite our house there was a house with some disco lights in that as you can see by day light just looked like any other building in Lisbon.
There were no signs on this house and you could just walk in for free but there was a room with a Dj in and a bar with a strange system where you had to go back the door and order your drinks and pay and then go the bar ?? We ventured up the beautiful double stairs and found another Dj and a chill out room. So we danced away and then had a time out on a few beanbags before dancing until the Dj ended his set. Highlight for me was “Da Funk” by Daft Punk. We managed to just about let the DJ get a picture and a picture paints a thousand words part II and look at the joy on our faces. It was 4.30am and time for bed. Take that the French and your 9.30pm peaking. Though with smoking allowed in the bars we had been drinking in we all had a croaky voice and stage 1 cancer.
Another lazy morning in the house and we walked down to the front and the power cut Irish Bar as strangely the belter Corner Bar didn’t open until 5pm and we wanted to watch some footy and come across a small square overlooking a valley in Lisbon and an amazing view helped by a busker playing some blues music. I managed to get a special burger as the bar man told me (No lettuce, cheeses or anything just the burger and the bun naked) We noticed a drink called the Irish Car bomb (Guiness and Tia Maria, no we didn’t have one) and walking up yet another fucking hill via a cocktail bar and a Cuban bar, which was showing fashion TV. Forgot how good that was we made it back to our spiritual home the corner bar. A quieter night tonight and after one of the lads had a pint spilled on his Martin Bell covered chino’s (Must not smirk, must not smirk) I headed home in bed for 10.45 after hitting vodka red bulls early. We checked on one of the lads who didn’t make it out at all on Sunday who’s name will be withheld to protect the guilty (Dave) and that was that. Monday Airport via the Metro and not a life threatening cab and then home feeling just tired not hungover I was met with a passionate reception from my two dogs and the wife and three kids were just wondering what gifts were in my bag. Perfume for Mrs Fay as I need to get the credits back up as we had decided that day that the venue for the third annual football trip will be held by the city of Berlin. Had to go for the perfume as I wasn’t sure how I would get this home with just a flight bag ?
Thanks for a top weekend lads and that house party we fell into will be remembered forever. As will the Lol application we discovered on our iPhones.
Fay x x x x x x x x