Due to the fact that most of our current 1st team this season have preferred to have a Lucozade and update their social media after a game rather than have a beer and socialise (a trend I’m sure other rugby clubs can sympathise with) It was mainly left to the more mature silverbacks of the club to carry on the touring tradition this year. As such it was decided to send an “elite” 7s team to this year’s Fat Blokes tournament in Reading.

We arrived at the club bright and early on Friday. The kit inspection was done and fines including 20 euros for Thomas were dished out. Some tourists were lucky enough to try this year’s tour drink (homemade chilli vodka). After our traditional team photo we boarded the coach and was on our way.

After a row with his wife the coach driver did not permit us a services break so as the port was being passed around and songs being sung, we ventured straight into deepest, darkest Berkshire and arrived at Reading Abbey RFC.

The virgins duly helped with a massive erection....of tents after which we ventured to the barely open bar (don’t think they expected people drinking this early!)

Due to the lack of said services break, we were quite famished so a virgin was nominated to be taken to the nearest settlement and find something nourishing. Jake arrived back with not only a suitcase load of chips but was even thoughtful enough to “borrow” the salt and vinegar pots as well! Great Effort!

After we were sufficiently nourished we played our traditional drinking games. A cork could not be sourced for the spot game however we resourcefully used a bottle of brown sauce instead with interesting results.

After a few more beverages we decided to head out into the swelling number of tents which now resembled a refugee camp.

We introduced ourselves to our neighbours and duly lost a game of beer pong. After this I was feeling quite drained and decided to retire to my tent (all in readiness for the tournament the next day of course)

I was rudely awoken on Saturday morning by a chorus of snoring warthogs in our camp. Ian Fergie even managed to sound like 2 warthogs copulating. Kenny then took on the role of town cryer and decided to wake everybody up with continuous chants of “Hear Ye, Hear Ye, You have half an hour to have a shower!”

A quick bacon roll and a much needed coffee, we then wandered over to the “Arse Cup” pitch to play our first game.

Our first opposition were the Flatulent Fairies (The rugby team of the London Irish Supporters Club no less). Dagenham had the honour of fielding a father and son paring in Russ and Jake Yellop before Jake scored and injured his already drunk head.
The game was an even affair, the referee rightfully sin-binning anyone caught running 30 meters or more and scoring but in the end the Fairies dominated and the game was lost.

Our second game was against the hosts vets team (Reading Abbey Ruins) which again was an even game. The referee this time coming into the scrum to help out on a few occasions. Thomas made a great break down the line and passed the ball to me meters from the try line only for me to fumble and knock the ball on! Final score Abbey Ruins more points-Dagenham less points.

Our final game was against the “Ald Port Drinkers” who kindly gave us all a shot of port before taking to the field. Straight from the kick off Kenny Rogers, making his comeback from his last appearance at the Bournemouth Tour of 2015, scored a great try…slightly helped by the opposition mauling him down the pitch to chants of “Here comes Santa Claus”. After this however the game was pretty one sided and so our Tour, as per tradition, had finished played 3……lost 3.

With the rain coming down quite heavy and hangovers kicking in we hit the showers and had a well-deserved burger and a pint and watched the more serious finals taking place!

Afterwards the award ceremony was just finishing up when the “Team of the Tournament” was awarded to……Dagenham! We had shown great rugby values and spent a small fortune across the bar of course! El Presidente collected the tankard and presented the hosts with a club plaque.

With that, whilst the rest of the teams retired to the refugee camp for a protein shake, we headed to the bar for some more beer and witty banter.

Whilst the evening’s band set up, we enjoyed a feast of hog roast. Kenny arrived and decided to hang his washing up in the clubhouse and some of the Tourists decided to see what size cup certain body parts would fill.

As the night grew on, the clubhouse started to fill up with other teams. Highlights of the evening included one female player deciding to moony us from outside but leaving a questionable stain on the window, and Professor Steven Hawkins arriving to do a DJ set in the marque next door.

With weary eyes and the thought of another night trying to sleep in the noisy refugee camp I headed back to base. The Subway van was the cuisine of choice for supper.

Sunday morning arrived to the chorus of warthogs. Churchy AKA The Arch C*nt of Bishopbery donned his gown and performed a superb Sunday service accepting the virgins into the flock of DRUFC tourists.

Fry-Ups demolished, we said our goodbyes and boarded the coach for a well needed sleep. On arrival at Central Park we said our goodbyes but not before Ian Fergie failed to be woken and was duly left on the coach on his way back to the depot! Luckily a phone call from Tank alerted him to his situation!

Thanks to those that helped to organize and to Reading Abbey for being great hosts.