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But first, the Audi Forum. Basically a museum about all things Audi. And it was like I’d walked into a Laboratoire Garnier advert. Dozens of sensationally beautiful statuesque women explaining each of the exhibits with a soothingly gentle up-sell. If I had €30,000, I’d have bought an A4 there and then and driven off into the sunset with one of them. Any of them. Instead, I pined after a silver A8 but made do with a keyring from the shop (I drive a Ford Fiesta – which doesn’t do you any favours when you’re swinging and you’re throwing your car keys in the bowl) and then undertook the long walk back into town.
Ingolstadt. Twinned with Kirkcaldy. Quite what the people of Ingolstadt had done to be lumbered with Kirkcaldy and their Stoneybridge councillors for fifty years, I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, Kirkcaldy isn’t the worse place in Fife. That’s Methil.
Methil. Not only is it a bone fide shanty town of zero social, economic or architectural merit, I remember watching Queen of the South at New Bayview a few years back and, whilst enjoying a post match celebratory pint, got accused of ’looking at someones pint’. “Are you f*cking looking at my pint?” “I beg your pardon?” “Are you looking at my f*cking pint?”
Right, I wasn’t going to hang around so we got the next bus back to Kirkcaldy. Which is like Singapore in comparison. Methil was of course name-checked in the “no more” section of The Proclaimers’ Letter From America. And, lets be honest, Messrs Reid were spoiled for choice. I’m surprised Irvine made the cut mind, especially seeing as though it rhymes with Girvan.
Anyway, it was a 1.30pm kick off, so after a quick donner for breakfast and a McFlurry I hopped on the supporters bus over to the Audi SportPark.
First things first, I made the pilgrimage to the club shop. I got a scarf for comedian of this parish and the circuit’s favourite Anglo-Korean stand-up Jim Park, who was looking after my cat while I was away. As is my want, I tried on a replica top. It was a bit baggy up the top and was in no way XL. It was a ladies replica top. Much to the amusement of the shop staff. I mumbled something in German, apologised, went straight to the counter bought my scarves and scarpered out like I’d just been papped outside a Soho clip joint.
With kick-off approaching I trundled in through the turnstiles, was patted down by a stewardess who looked strikingly like 90s pop sensation Betty Boo (which was nice) and I had to surrender the bottle of ‘Orchard Berries’ Febreeze I had in my rucksack. In case I wanted to freshen the place up y’know. Yet the blanket searches didn’t prevent the Alemannia fans from smuggling in enough flares to alarm Dover coastguard and a couple of smoke bombs. I’m asthmatic, so I had to slip away for a few minutes for a fag.
Alemannia Aachen were second-bottom of the table and were in desperate need of a win to keep any hope of Bundesliga 2 survival alive. I could have predicted that at the start of the season when I was in Aachen to watch their 3-1 ramming by FSV Frankfurt. They were bloody rotten. Yet it was a brilliant experience. The New Tivoli is a salutary lesson in how good new stadia can be if a little bit of thought goes into them. It was also like watching a game in the 70s. The New Tivoli has 20,000 seats and one massive 10,000 standing Kop. And with standing tickets at €10, and seats at €20, the Kop was rammed and there was no-one anywhere else. There were proper fights breaking out between different Alemannia factions, I nearly got decapitated by a flare and I was absolutely drenched in beer flying everywhere when Alemannia went ahead. And I absolutely bloody loved it. Almost as much as I loved this particular homage I spotted in an Aachen gallery to the recent marriage between Prince William and former ‘The One Show’ presenter Christine Bleakley.
I should have been in with the Alemannia fans then, but instead I joined the Ingolstadt Massive. There were around 7,000 in and the Audi Sportpark was alright. Nowt to write home about but it had a couple of terraces, molten-hot Weisswurst, Herrnbrau on tap and Teutonic cheerleaders. Which beats Blundell Park and a PA system that before games seems to be stuck on ‘Now Thats What I Call Music 15’.
Alemannia went ahead through Marco Stiepermann who dutifully cancelled out his opening strike by chesting in an own-goal in a slapstick episode that would have shamed a budget Norman Wisdom tribute-act.
In the second-half the nandrolone kicked in and Aachen went 3-1 up in the space of ten mental second-half minutes, firstly through the gangly man-octupus of Seyi Olajenbesi and then the very handy, very sharp Dortmund loanee Stieperman completed his bog-eyed hat-trick by outpacing the Ingolstadt defence over 40 yards and firing home in front of the delighted travelling following. But Alemannia haven’t found themselves second bottom by being able to shut the game down after finding themselves 3-1 up. And, with around ten minutes left, they conceded a penalty (can’t tell you much about it as I was away for a piss) which Ingolstadt dutifully scored. In injury time, Aachen allowed Manuel Schaffer enough time and space to host a barbeque, and he headed home to secure an unlikely point for Ingolstadt and make Alemannia’s trip up the autobahn nigh on unbearable.
I took a walk back into town and chanced upon a duck that I thought was in distress trying to escape the death-grasp of a weir. It may have been the Herrnbrau playing tricks with my mind but I gave serious consideration to wading into the freezing cold river and rescuing this little fighter. But, thankfully for the Scottish comedy circuit, I thought better of it. As I pictured the poor Humberside PC sent round to deliver the sad news to my Dad…
“Mr Alexander?”
“Yes”
“I’m afraid its your son, Gordon”
“What’s happened?”
“He died trying to save a duck from drowning….”
“…Seriously piss off, you’re not funny” etc etc.
*Made up.
In any case, I had FC Heidenheim vs Wacker Burghausen in Bundesliga 3 down on my list of 3,000 Things To Do Before I Die. And I needed to make plans…
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About the Author
Raised by wolves on the wild Lincolnshire coast, Gordon has been Scotland’s 53rd best stand-up comedian for a record six years.
On the scene since 2007, he has been a staple of The Stand’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe programme, performs across the country with his own unique brand of sociopathic misanthropy and biting political comedy and has supported some of the biggest names in UK comedy.
After an unsuccessful football career, culminating in an extra-time defeat in the 1996 U16s Lincolnshire Cup Final, he has been trying unsuccessfully to get a Football Banning Orderfor three years now to stop him spunking any more of his limited disposable income on following his beloved Grimsby Town in the Vauxhall Conference for three years now. He also follows Queen of the South, crack Bundesliga 2 outfit Erzgebirge Aue, Crvena Zvezda and Portland Timbers.
Gordon is a ‘ground-hopper’ and bloody proud of it. His favourite stadia are the Stadio Nereo Rocco in Trieste and the Erzegibrgestadion in Saxony.
“…Character creation Father Alexander was hilarious, taking a satirical lump out of Salmond’s Scotland with a sermon for the Lockerbie bomber Abdelbaset Ali Al-Megrahi…” Brian Donaldson, The Scotsman
“Gordon Alexander eulogies were a highlight….clever, fun and deserving of a bigger audience” Barrie Morgan, The Skinny
“…Far more polished was Gordon Alexander…It’s a superbly written act and Alexander topped up it’s topicality and was rewarded for his efforts by getting by far the biggest laughs of the night…” Neil McEwan, Edinburgh Evening News
“…Man-of-the-match Gordon Alexander stole the show with his character pieces…” Bernard O’Leary, The Skinny
You can follow Gordon on Twitter: @GoAlexander
