Lisbon 2019 - Palacio Estoril

As furloughed fodder, Friday quiz master on Zoom and winner of the new Dogballs Trophy, it was bestowed upon me to give the match report for the excellent 2019 Fishbowl Tour to Portugal.

Well done Simon for organising, as English Pete at the club house bar said, “We simply cannot find a better deal, so this is year 8 for us.”

The Edinburgh mafia mustered early in the Weatherspoons Bar at Edinburgh airport and continued to keep the air hostesses busy serving double brandies and ginger on the flight over. A fine body of athletes arrived fresh, with an average handicap of eleven and a sprint in their step - they had a minibus waiting for them and off they went leaving us lesser athletes and more handicapped having a shot of Tomiltin whisky in the taxis rank. Spike, Glen and I were blessed with an excellent taxis driver who had an astonishingly comprehensive knowledge of rugby. His son was the Spanish International hooker, a phrase that hung on Al Boy’s lips for the rest of the weekend like a script for Jay from The Inbetweeners.

We arrived at Palicio Estoril, greeted by the 82 year old door man who quickly showed us some Bond memorabilia. We all quickly realised that this hotel was too good for a Fishbowl and promised to be well behaved, our concern being that Simon had got the pricing wrong and a hefty bill would be charged to the last to check out.

Off for lunch and two to three bottles of wine per diner. The view from our table of the beach was spectacular, Brian and Al Boy paddling, taps aff and tabs in their gobs, giving the local ladies a sight to cherish and put in their wank banks.

We strolled back past the Castle and then some of the party had a siesta. Al changed his shirt for the 3rd time that day and then Joey,Al and Lorne continued to drink by the pool and put the world to rights- a highlight of the tour for those involved.

We met in the hotel bar for drinks and then dined in the hotel restaurant. It was an almost civil affair until Al got a right doing from a glass door, fortunately the scar had healed by his return to work on Monday. The southern softies joined us and the party increasingly got boisterous with everyone talking at the same time. We finished with a trip to the Casino where Al got another doing by a glass mirrored wall and was sent home, luckily, wallet intact.

Some rose early for breakfast and were delighted beyond belief by the Champagne on offer at breakfast, a sharpener for the tournament about to begin. others conserved their energy and slept. We then played golf, some distance from the hotel and drank whisky.

Night 2 we took it easy down at the beach bar by having only 8 Long Island Iced Teas before we saw a menu. Some of us had an excellent view of a Spanish ladies pert buttocks all the way through dinner which made it a very enjoyable dining experience. We trotted off to an outside bar where Al tried to get some dope from the local football hooligans but Brian saved him from the Firm and Lorne did an excellent semi naked beer shower to warn them off confirming that we were not to be messed with as we are pure radio rental. Some of us carried on until 5.32 am enjoying the local, sometimes extortionately expensive, local hostilities without seeing as much as a pierced nipple, disappointingly.

Breakfast was well attended with everyone apart from Steve in attendance, clearly he had not got his body clock adjusted to Portuguese time. The Champagne flowed and we were set up for the day. We played some golf. Alan Melville decided not to,play and walked the course in blazing heat, as he was tired. The rest of us opting for buggies. The only explanation for Melville’s decision to walk and not play was that he was scared of winning and then possibly having to attend such an event again. Joey secured victory again and we finished the malt whisky, given to us by Bobby Skinstad for a special occasion.

The award ceremony was held in a wonderful fish restaurant in Estoril. The experienced waiting staff performed an array of geri don service, filleting fish and flambé causing plenty of ooohs and aaahs from us, the adoring punters. Al’s napkin magic trick secured a shot on the house. We then went to join the local fiesta, singing and dancing. We got back just in time to have an early morning tug and get the early morning coach to the airport, arriving in plenty of time. a pretty uneventful Fishbowl, in comparison to Alicante and Madrid but in a venue that will hopefully see us again.