across a half eaten Red Devil gobstopper circa 1984, a spoon with the
likeness of Charles and Di on it and an essay written by my younger
self. A pre blog blog if you will, back in the time my blog writing
actually was just scrawled in crayon on a sheet of paper and doesn't
just read like it. I know you are all sitting there wanting to read
the essay so i have lovingly recreated it below - if you are patient and
read it all the way down there will be some bowls talk somewhere and a
round up of the week, including for all you face book tarts out there,
how the power of someone else's profile pic can get you likes? Oh! and
be kind i was about 10 when i wrote this.
The scariest and most dangerous things are never the overtly
threatening or obvious. The devil holds no fears: you can see him a
mile off with that stupid tache and humongous fork, that guy brandishing
a gun over the road he is no bother unless you are stupid and walk
toward him. The real scary things are insidious. They work their way
into life and are accepted and liked. Fire for example is an obvious
one. Invited in to your home to help heat and cook your food and what
does it do when you try to hug it thank you? It burns you, bend down to
pick something up in front of the fire and it burns your bollocks, its
a hateful thing masquerading as our friend. That is where Marillion
come in. Fishes lyrical content manages to convince you that sitting
in a bar getting smashed on whisky or whatever else is served in these
places i have never been in is romantic and wistful. Cirrhosis of the
liver being a sign of a well lived life, buying one time friends and
confidents with a shouted round. Well no thank you Mr Fish i am never
going to drink or set foot in a public house. A life of sobriety and
success for me.
So there you have it how dull was i going to be before bowls, cans of
heldenbrau and pints mild in the Ring o Bells saved me.
And now the round up of the week
Saturday away at the broomfield could be summed up in haiku form
nice weather, good start
couldn't punish middle four
lost tamely in end
A good start led to a chance to exert pressure on the broomies but we
couldn't get winners off when needed and instead of going into the
last four 25 up we went in 6 down and were from then on never really
in it. It was my first visit since the club was knocked down and its a
pretty neat set up. I enjoyed a good conversation about the lack of
quality on show while looking out over the cricket pitch. It was such
an idyllic setting you could almost hear the leather on willow. Or
maybe it was leather on an old mans arse being carried on the wind
from one of the sex dungeons on the Portland Road.
This week I was insulted at work by being likened to Al from Toy Story Two. It was
bubbling along getting no interest on face book until an ex co worker
commented. As her profile pic features her and very little clothing
I was suddenly the most popular guy in the world, drowning in friend
requests from hormonal teens impressed buy the nature of my facebook
friends. Relax boys its a fake pic - she is actually a 50 year trucker
named Keith.
The teams for next weeks midweek games are up. Please show up as we
have pretty much picked everyone left at the club.
On our free Saturday we played "the winner gets to pick a trophy round
robin competition" which was won by an aflame Dave Hosgood. Looking
at the honours board we gave Dave the choice of the cups we hadn't
played for in a while and a worrying trend appeared. Presidents Cup
last played in 2006 winner Dave Hosgood, the Gary Stokes Comedy Cup
last played for in 2007 winner Dave Hosgood, The Albert Finney was the
Best Scrooge Cup last played for in 1999 winner Dave Hosgood. It would
appear when a cup is won by the Wiz it loses all value and is no
longer played for. Thank god he has never won the senior averages as the
club would just fold on the spot. Maybe his place atop the averages
will have people running for the lifeboats, certainly Lowey had nearer
my god to thee playing during the friday morning game but that may have had
more to do with his recent and over 9000th hospitalisation. As an aside,
the Friday over sixties lost having two winners but did seem to
really enjoy their morning even if they did have to put up with the
Old man.
The wrestling. OMG the wrestling. As well as being Scotties
Birthday good friday was Fightclub pro friday. We arrived early and
found a lucky spot in the queue under a butchers hoarding that at
least kept us out of the rain for twenty minutes of the one and half hours we were kept
waiting outside in the rain. The good proprieter of the Bodrun Delight
Turkish restaurant came out to take pity on us, providing the cold wet
and hungry crowd some grub and stave of a riot. Eventually we got in
and were seated and after a further delay while the promoter and
recent WWE performer Trent Seven tried to get everyone the seats they
had booked the show began. The wrestling was amazing and thank god for
Nixon Newell and the cutest smile in wrestlng for reminding me i am
straight. That one simple thing averted the inate charisma, charm,
talent and pert buttocks of Kenny Omega from turning me. I know
wrestling isn't everyones cup of tea and people will look oddly at me
when i say this is nothing like what you see on Sky, but live this
group of amazing performers is incredible entertainment. It's rough,
athletic funny and if you sit as close as we did you have to move
every 30 seconds or be crushed by a space flying tiger drop. Oh, and i
have bought the shirt of all shirts.
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