There you have it, folks, the pride of the American navy footloose and fancy-free in Portsmouth, as recorded by Ms. Alice Vincent for The Telegraph who, plucky gal, ventured into downtown Portsmouth to witness the ‘invasion’ of several thousand American sailors from the USS Theodore Roosevelt. According to Ms. Vincent she was not alone because the, er, pride of British ‘gal-hood’ flocked in to sample what was on offer! If they were imagining shades of Richard Gere – 'Big Mistook!'
That crisp white uniform, those shiny gold epaulettes, the cap at a jaunty angle, being scooped up in manly arms - just like Debra Winger was - to the sound of cheering and a one way ticket to a happy ever after....... Stop. Rewind. The reality, on a cold, bleak night was rather different and the ladies of Portsmouth would be forgiven for feeling cheated. There wasn’t a uniform in sight, just hundreds of burly young men in hoodies and casual wear drinking their way round the town.
Anyway, I am delighted to say that we Brits did what we’re awfully good at doing, that is, relieving foreigners of their cash. Of course, Portsmouth, as on old naval town, is better than most at helping thirsty, sex-mad sailors rid themselves of all that unwanted cash!
Pausing only to gather some helpful intel, I headed to Yates’ in Guildhall Walk which, I’d been told, was approximately the sixth bar in on a pub crawl that opportunistic events organisers had laid on for the visitors. (It’s expected that the US invasion will boost the city’s economy by more than £1million over the next four days and the bars and pubs are prepared. In 2003, 5,000 crewmen downed more than £400,000 worth of alcohol in three days resulting in emergency supplies having to be sourced.)
It’s a pity though that Ms. Vincent’s otherwise excellent report failed to carry a photo of an American Naval Shore Patrol team at work. I remember them in Singapore when a similar giant aircraft carrier paid a visit and the city looked and sounded like all the bar-room fights you ever saw in any Hollywood western all rolled into one. However, the monstrously huge men of the shore patrol wielding batons like tree trunks could, I was told, clear a crowded bar in seconds. I believed it!
Anyway, welcome ashore, lads, and if I could buy y’all a beer, I would!
