Denilson goes Camping pt2

Sunday 27th March

I awoke the next morning to find Diaby had returned to the tent in the night and he lay there, snoring. To make things worse, it had started to rain. By the time I had returned from the shower block it was past breakfast, but the now awake Diaby was hungry so I started to cook lunch.

I had a disposable barbecue with me so I fired it up and started to cook some Beefburgers. I could not do it outside due to the rain so I took the risk of cooking inside the tent. It was a deeply flawed risk - the smoke was unbearable and fat from the burgers splashed onto the tent, causing it to catch fire at quite a rapid pace. Diaby ran out of the tent - I was trapped inside. How could he run off and desert me like that ?? But before I knew it, a torrent of water rained down on me - Diaby had gone to get the site managers hose !! He is truly a hero.

Diaby grinned at me and hollered "Dixy Time !!!"

Back to Southern Fried Chicken and Diaby was making the sweet talk with the lady behind the counter while I grabbed my bucket and made my way outside. I sat on a nearby bench and, when I had finished my first piece of chicken, I threw the bone nonchanantly towards the bin.Unfortunately my aim was as true as one of my cross-field passes, and the chicken bone struck one of a group of local youths standing nearby.

Before I knew it there were five or six of them surrounding me. They recognised me and started taunting me, mocking my footballing ability. In an instant I was on the floor, their savage kickings pummelling my fragile torso. I thought I was a gone-one, until all of a sudden the kickings stopped. Diaby had returned and they now circled him, but this time the outcome was much, much different.

With a flurry of well-timed kicks and punches Diaby soon had the local youths running in more varied directions than a Nicklas Bendtner goal attempt DVD compilation. He is truly a hero.

I was too sore to drive back to the campsite so I gave Diaby the keys. When we got back to the site, Diaby helped me out of the passenger seat and towards the tent. As he did so we heard a crash behind us. Diaby had left the handbrake off the car and it had rolled backwards, through a barbed wire fence and a dry-stone wall, before rolling over the edge of the hillside and into the limestone quarry below. The sound of my Diahatsu crashing onto the rocks below was worse than any of the cheers I hear when I am substituted. Diaby was inconsolable. He had that same look in his eyes that he did after he headed the ball into our net at Old Trafford.

I was not mad with him. After him saving me twice, today alone, I could bear no ill will towards him.

We packed up our stuff and I made the only phone call I could in this situation.

Arsene was there sooner than expected. Diaby chose to stay with the ladies in the next tent.