“The most complicated skill is to be simple.” ― Dejan Stojanovic
Saturdays With Molly
It’s schools out again and the streets are awash with the vacant “yoof” walking Zombie like waiting for their Play Stations to recharge and taking the time to scare a few old folk.
Teachers everywhere are bemoaning their lot as ever despite Michael Gove being kicked out of the big staff room. Too hot, not enough time to do every Caribbean island in the holidays and why do we have to go back at all in September?
We have a few from the noble profession in our dressing rooms including young Michael following a recent demotion to the Stiffs & Dead Men X1.
Obviously a bit down on being dropped, Michael was suggesting at the weekend that, perhaps, he had been a bit unlucky to have been the chosen one, especially given there appeared to be a few candidates.
We were able to reassure him that, as it may have come down to a choice between, say, Joe Lawrence and him, there were several good reasons why we “chose” Michael and welcomed him warmly to our dressing room.
1 – Joe changes his clothes weekly and, therefore, smells. Luckily he is too big to steal mine.
2 – Joe would bankrupt the senior members of the team in cadged drinks and drag us down to The Oddfellows till the wee small hours chasing equally smelly estate girls.
3 – Michael has a “fit” wife who comes to brighten our Saturdays and smells nice; Joe is still on the cusp of “coming out”.
As Michael tried to figure out if the final reason was admissible, he engaged with dad Pete in a conversation about nearby Wrose Reservoir and offered stunning proof that they binned Michael Gove as Education Secretary before he actually got to Michael’s school with OFSTED.
The reservoir has been sold and a property developer is building his own Grand Design in the hole. Michael seemed fascinated by this information and then asked.
“But will it still be a reservoir?”
It’s a good job the lad can bat and the glamorous Missus is good for team spirit and the bar takings. Meanwhile, we managed to contrive a game on Saturday despite the incessant rain.
Molly had opted out, ostensibly to “give a young ‘un a go“. Looking around the dressing room we were not overflowing with “young ‘uns” and a better translation may have been “I fancy an afternoon on t’piss…it’s too hot for a fat lad out there”
Following in old Granville’s wobbly (pissed) footsteps from the week before, he duly claimed a “six-for” just after tea, not with the ball but Saltaire Blonde.
The landmark gallon was approaching fast as wife Carol sought out the rolling pin; it was clear that the Under 11s were not likely to get much of a tactical game plan or warm-up the following morning.
We duly beat Addingham to return to winning ways with Michael smashing a century and wife Sarah duly whooping from the sidelines well before the effects of the club Pinot Grigio took hold. She was definitely de-mob happy.
Harder days ahead as the season reaches a critical point and several pack buckets and spades for the summer holidays. Meanwhile, Molly misses again this weekend rumoured to be doing rehab in the coolie known as the score-box.
{Note to wife: check under score-box floorboards for secreted hip flasks}
Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus – The Seven Ages of the Gym
There I was in Red Hot 70+ Grannies’ Spin class the other day, seemingly one more gut-wrenching effort from a heart attack and surrounded only by the old birds. Mouth to mouth would be a Steradent moment if needed.
Strangely I could not take my eyes of this tanned, scantily clad young thing a few metres away on the treadmill.
Aesthetically pleasing on the eye she may have been but it was the fact that if she had been a bird of prey, a marksman would not have had to adjust his sights at all as she barely moved save to tap some more on her iPhone.
And this got me thinking about why we do go to gyms? The motivation varies from generation to generation and across the sexes; something like this?
Teen Years
Male (M) – nobody said you had to move…shit this is hard…I will get a medal won’t I?
Female (F) – if I sweat on my iPhone I’ll sue!
Twenties
M – mirror mirror on the wall…time for a sun-bed.
F – like my tattoo?
Thirties
M – how did I get so fat?
F – like my new tattoo?
Forties
M – God she’s fit…hold that belly in…stand up straight…stop staring.
F – You mean the treadmill’s suppose to move?
Fifties
M – Take me now Lord…no more…I am done!
F – does my bum look big in this?
Sixties
M – May as well stare…be dead soon…just let me lie here for a while.
F – Silly old fool!
Seventies
M – Can’t breath…try to collapse next to the fit looking one.
F – Glad I sorted out his insurance!
The March of Aldi
Summing up the continuing success of Aldi UK, the joint UK Managing Director said that they aim to keep their offering “simple“. Being a simple bloke I like this even if the checkout operators almost throw your shopping at you.
As Tesco fire their CEO and Morrisons lurch from bad news to more bad news, once again the Germans seem to have got it right where it matters.
What chance the Football Association taking the time to study the German football model? None actually and as Sky TV laud the forthcoming new season of the Premier League – ridiculously claiming it as “the best in the world” – it’s heads in the Carling again.
Patch says
Aldi good but
Try buying a single red apple. It’s not happening dear punter
Gasman says
Come on Patch, buying an apple, thats fruit that is, have a word Willy.