Freed from the shackles of disciplined Friday nights with no cricket now till next Spring, what was a man to do with so much free time?
With the Friday sex ban lifted (fat chance! Ed) and the abolition of the four pint curfew (broken a few times in moments of weakness I concede generally after a recall to the 1st team) was it time to go wild?
So there I was, just gone six and sat in the Bear with a bunch of pissed happy hour pensioners. Swing low indeed.
They say only the old have any money these days; how ironic that only they can get out to enjoy happy hour and save a few more quid in the process?
It was the first game of the Rugby World Cup and, as the Range Rover set were unpacking hampers of Moet and smoked salmon in the carparks surrounding Twickenham, there I was sat with a pint and a bag of cheese & onion surrounded by the village’s finest minds in Nob Ed Korna.
Our Jackie offered me her usual greeting in that gravelly voice of hers as she slid a frothy beauty across the bar top, casually flicking it’s moist head with her nicotine tanned index finger, winking at me, seemingly saying “come on baby light me fire…”
I wandered nervously to my seat as she opted for a battery operated Woodbine on the steps outside instead.
The atmosphere was building gently; Young Geoffrey (aged 87) was offering a melodic version of Swing Low lips pursed whilst flashing me the same look he had thirty-five years ago when we played for the same Sunday football team.
With the kick-off still over an hour away I sensed my arrival had been a touch premature. Big Al was on the weekly HMRC leaving party – small wonder they never answer the phones – and would be rolling in on those over-worked new hips very soon.
The Hepworth Idle lot were in as ever – cricket or no cricket – still bemoaning last week’s loss at Scarborough with Mad Macca threatening to take his case to Lords. Fortunately the taxi arrived and the onset of ten pints and a vindaloo would blur that threat for another week.
Soon it was the first scrum; not on the rugby field but with the onset of the clock approaching seven and the end of happy hour. The pensioners rose in unison, rucking and mauling at the bar as Our Jackie tried in vain to restore order, sending them back to their seats with jars of calming liquid Prozac.
And then it was time. Young Michael slid a quid into the side of the telly, the lights were dimmed and a hush gently floated over the noisy pensioners.
Come on England!
The Germans Are Coming!
News that Aldi and B&M are to takeover the vacant local Dunnes site seems to have been greeted in a positive manner on the whole.
What perplexes me is why we need another Aldi when we have two in opposite directions approximately two miles from this site.
Now, I love Aldi and I think their offering is very clever and well placed but when bulldozers are poised like tanks on several local green fields, how does this make sense in an area drenched with retail offerings?
Doubtless there will be some planning legislation that has determined this outcome but if that is the case, as ever, the law is an ass.
RIP Mick
Sad news last week with the passing of another of the Villas’ supporters perched in Critics’ Corner. A good pal of Granville, Mick (not pictured above) was a regular supporter and our thoughts are with his family.
New aspiring critics apply here but bring your whites just in case.
Surely Not?
Posted with some irony in the gents at the Bear is a poster advertising a local slimming club. What caught my eye was the highlighted claim that the club had helped members shed 526 and a half stone last year.
That’s like a herd of cows I thought. Where would all that fat go? Why were the numerous takeaways not all boarded up and a greengrocer and deli doing a roaring trade?
Sounds like porkies to me…told by porkies.
The Germans Are Coming…2.
News last week that Aldi rival Lidl will now pay the living wage to it’s staff is a cute move and will have the “Big Four” (if you can still count Morrisons as big) looking hard over their shoulders.
In a sector where margins are key, just how much wiggle room the big boys have will be tested. Equally, if I were a supplier to any of these I would be dreading the next phone call.
A Yorkshire Vet
As the nights close in it is a stretch to find something worth watching on the telly so who would have thought Channel 5 worth a visit but this is good, compelling telly although if you are an animal lover get the Kleenex ready.
This week’s collection of tales had a story about Lothario the llama who was having problems carrying out his duties as chief herd bonker.
Despite a succession of doting partners and although always enthusiastic, Lothario was struggling to turn his efforts into young Lotharios.
Not even a hair cut and a spruce up could alter the damning evidence that old Lothario was firing blanks. No more action for him quickly becoming yesterday’s man.
Cheer up I thought, happens to us all.
Did I Really Hear That?
Sat in the hairdressers the other day (another fast day? Ed) I chanced on a conversation about my old school. Unbelievably, this shrine to piss poor education is closed for four days this week due to Eid.
Having just had six weeks off twiddling their thumbs it’s lights out again. Utterly unbelievable and yet more dopey politically correct crap hindering the education of kids who need it most.
Would it really happen anywhere else?
Alone Again…Naturally
It’s now two weeks since my great experiment ended with the departure to sunnier climes of our overseas “pro” David. Gradually, life is returning to it’s normal depraved state once again.
Here are ten things you most miss when living with someone:
1 – starting the day with a loud, sheet-splitting fart.
2 – showering with the door open. This has the twin benefits of being able to hear the radio (cue shower singing and bad naked dancing) and saving electricity as no need for the extractor fan.
3 – sleeping till lunch and not feeling like a lazy tw*t.
4 – taking a long lunch even if it is breakfast.
5 – having a poo with the door open…only to save the fan of course…not stressing about the choice of pink loo flush.
6 – siestas.
7 – talking to your cucumber plants as you preen them like a show puppy.
8 – playing air shots with your bat in the kitchen whilst mimicking Richie Benaud “…beautiful shot from Wilson…that’s four all the way…another glorious century for England…”
9 – watching Gardeners World on series link without having the piss taken out of you.
10 – going to bed at nine even though you’ve barely just got up ending the day as it started…with a loud, sheet-splitting….STOP!
Have a great weekend out there in the real world!
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