There is an Awful Lot of Bubbly in Brazil: The Life and Times of a Bon Viveur
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The best-selling autobiography of talkSPORT radio show host and ex-footballer Alan Brazil and his life as a bon viveur.
Porky “my pal’s the ambassador” Parry … here on talkSPORT.’ We did a brilliant show, even though I say so myself. It’s a funny thing, but it doesn’t matter how you’re feeling before you go on air, the minute the red light goes on something happens to you. I don’t know if it’s focus or adrenalin, but it’s the best hangover cure I’ve ever encountered. Of course there have been one or two occasions when even that hasn’t managed to make my tongue smaller in my mouth than it sounds, but by and large
that imprints the details of your credit card on three carbon copies of the invoice. Amazingly, the waiter who was sorting the bill gave Ted his credit card and all three copies of the bill. Ted couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The restaurant didn’t have any record whatsoever of the payment, and once we had left there was no way they could have recovered it because they had no electronic record of Ted’s account. No wonder the champagne was still flowing on the way back. I had a glorious
panic-stricken, he spluttered, ‘Black.’ I placed the chips on the table. Next to scoring goals for Ipswich and Scotland, this was the best feeling in the world. I loved the sound of the silver ball rolling around the rim while the wheel was spinning in the opposite direction. The anticipation was like finding out whether the jury was going to find you guilty or not guilty. The ball fell on to the wheel and clattered around a few times. It hopped and bumped, and then settled on a number. It was
final line-up, but he was dropped for David Geddis. David was playing regularly with me in the reserves but he was much more experienced than me. He got the shout on the day, but it was Roger Osborne who scored the winning goal. I was thrilled to be on the staff of the FA Cup-winning team, but I wasn’t going to be around very long to celebrate. The following morning I was due to go to America on the adventure of a lifetime. I had been loaned out to Detroit Express in the North American Soccer
but I hoped that in being forced to go public on me he would now realise that I was still highly regarded, and he would reconsider giving me a regular place in the first team. A big row blew up between United and Spurs, with Burkinshaw accusing Big Ron of being out of order. He told the world that even if Spurs did ever sell me they would not do business with Manchester United. This made me even more frustrated and angry. Not only were Tottenham not giving me first-team football, they were