"I told you we'd smash it. I told you. I said all along."
Either the alcohol is impeding Wayne Jones' memory or he's outright lying. Perhaps it's a bit of both.
What's for certain is that the landlord of arguably the most famous pub in the world right now is in high demand.
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When he threw open the doors of the Turf pub by Wrexham's Racecourse ground at 12pm on Saturday, there were around 150 people already queuing outside. All patiently waiting, like villagers lining up for a well.
The United States, Canada, Ireland, and even Colombia are all represented, amid Wrexham followers. Collectively, there's enough air miles in this room to give Greta Thunberg palpitations.
It just goes to show the astonishing global pull of this football club right now, and this was undoubtedly the finest chapter so far in the Hollywood era.
Incredibly, Wrexham's return to the Football League comes exactly 15 years to the day they first fell out of it. This sport has a funny habit of throwing up such coincidences, I suppose.
This is a party some of the locals perhaps started to think may never come. But now the day has finally arrived, Wayne is more than happy to take on the role of ringleader.
After the game, I went back to the Turf to take in what was happening and witness the joy first hand,
By 10pm, he's rocking out to Shania Twain's 'I feel like a Woman', slapping the shoulders of almost every punter with glee as they inch their way through the crowd and towards the bar.
Wayne is only getting started too.
At one point, he glides into an empty space on the dancefloor, briefly composes himself, and reaches up to the sky like Andy Dufresne tasting the sweet scent of freedom after emerging from the prison sewer in the Shawshank Redemption.
"Wrexham AFC - the club who crawled through a river of s*** and came out clean on the other side."
For what it's worth, Wayne wasn't actually as confident as he's now claiming. Indeed his previous plea was for his beloved Reds not to 'Wrexham it up'.
It just goes to show that when you've been down this long, even days like these carry room for cynicism.
When Boreham Wood took the lead after just 45 seconds at the Racecourse, you could sort of see his point. But when Elliot Lee headed home the equaliser shortly before half-time, there was an undeniable feel of destiny about all this.
Those feelings were only heightened when Paul Mullin's wonder strike to hand the hosts the lead was greeted by a plume of red smoke from the Turf car park, which bellowed into the sky. A nod to the new dawn that was all but confirmed when Mullin added his second of the game.
Lee, Ben Foster, and Phil Parkinson all stressed afterwards that this was just the start for Wrexham, who clearly plan on making the extraordinary a regular occurrence.
But for those crammed into the Turf after the jubilation of the final whistle and the subsequent pitch invasion, those future ambitions were put on the backburner for an evening. After so long in the footballing wilderness, this was an exercise in catharsis as much as it was a celebration.
Many I talk to simply struggle to put into words what this means.
Wayne himself is clearly still trying to make sense of it all.
"I don't think any of this will become normal," he says. "It's becoming less surreal, but if you'd said to me that this would happen and that Rob and Ryan would be here, and there would be a lot of A-listers rolling into town, I'd have sent you back to the psych ward."
It almost goes without saying now that the Hollywood connection is never too far away round these parts and, with celebrations in full swing, one of those said A-listers decides to drop by.
After popping in for a quick pint before the game, Paul Rudd is back and is hanging around in the car park. As it turns out, he's keen to catch up with Wayne before he heads off.
Wayne comes out of the pub, bounding towards the Ant Man star before holding out his arms in triumph and giving him a big hug. They briefly chat about what they've just seen, and Rudd's beaming smile suggests he's enjoyed himself nearly as much as the locals.
It's an odd interaction to observe. There are no crowds, and, barring the odd passer-by asking for an autograph, the stardust is largely stripped back. For a brief fleeting moment, it just feels like a group of regular friends having a natter outside a pub on a Saturday night. A sight you'd see outside any pub in the country.
But things do get a little more surreal. Rudd's car arrives and the driver leaves the engine running. A lone man in a grey hooded coat approaches the driver and taps on the window.
It's none other than Wrexham legend Brian Flynn, who's clearly looking for a taxi home. A few words are exchanged with the driver and Flynn seems a little confused as to why they won't take him, before accepting defeat and shuffling away, presumably to wait for some other means of a ride home.
Back inside the pub, the crowded bar is oblivious to this, the latest in a long line of bizarre episodes.
In fairness, the bar staff don't look like they have time to worry about anything other than getting drinks out to quench the punters' thirst, which remains insatiable.
The songbook gets a good workout, including the now iconic hit It's Always Sunny In Wrexham by local band The Declan Swans.
Michael Hett, the group's lead singer, simply can't stop smiling. After coming through a recent cancer battle, the thrill of hearing his own song becoming a soundtrack to this incredible moment is there for all to see.
Meanwhile, several fans take cover under a Welsh flag that's proudly held aloft. Others are starting to throw shapes on the dancefloor. Beer is flowing like, well, beer, and a man in full Deadpool costume tells me about how much he still hates Chester.
After bidding farewell to his celebrity pal, Wayne's back in the room, which is now ankle deep in booze.
'Super Ben Foster in Goal' rings out as he pogoes around, before he spots something that stops him in his tracks.
He looks up and points to a slogan on his own wall that reads 'Here they come the mighty champions'.
"Wait. That's us?!"
It's a poignant moment of realisation. An admission that this hasn't entirely sunk in yet.
Perhaps it shouldn't be surprising. After all, for a generation of Wrexham fans this is as good as it's been.
"I've been here for 15 years," Wayne adds. "I was a fan before we took the pub on, but in those 15 years, we've seen some really horrific times.
"There's no football fans in Britain that deserves success as much as Wrexham fans."
As weird as it feels right now, success might yet be something Wrexham fans should try to get used to.
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