| protect the innocent for too long now I feel obliged to name names. It's not going to be easy for me, but for acts of gross cowardice there is no greater punishment thanjj.,;ng- s~eing mocked by your peers. Several teams of willing volunteers lined up. The Leicesterhire upstarts, The Gilmorton Old Boys, Team Mapperley Village (possibly including the Secret Spewer of Malvern Town... you know who you are), Sale Harriers, and Notts Buggy Club. Money was at stake, the air was warm, the beer was warmer and there was a distinct lack of plastic glasses. This problem resolved all lined up for the simple task of boat racing. The first in each team went off at a pace, the second player followed suit and all looked fairly pleased with themselves having completed a task that Big AI completes 12 times a night downing a pint in a short time. Then tragedy a mistake! Not wanting to pick someone out to blame, a certain competitor , who was in the team well in front was spotted by an official accidentally spilling his pint when reaching down for it in haste. Mr. STUART GRUNDY please take a bow. The contest was stopped. All other teams caught up. Will his team mates ever forgive him ? I wouldn't. The lead seemed unassailable. This also gave the opportunity for the match referee to move the venue to the Southern hemisphere.Realising all players were now upside down, a headstand was required for team member number 3 to drink his allotted pint. After much muttering, and wishing they had stood at position 1 (but hadn't in case there was a trick to be played), all started the task of wobbling about, dribbling large amounts of beer down their shirt fronts, falling over and in between all of this, sipping ale. It was close not the finish, just the amount of beer each one of them had actually drunk. Cameras flashed,the crowd laughed and many of them thanked God that he had made them older and wiser and stopped them from volunteering themselves for all this madness. Then it was time for the anchormen.You know the ones. The biggest ones. The ones who feel they could make the difference between winning and losing. Step FORWARD ALL THOSE BIG, TOUGH,GROWN UP, HAIRY-CHESTED MEN WHO WERE AFRAID OF A TINY,TWODAYOLD, DEAD,AND EVEN UNFERTILISED CHICKEN. (We had even removed his jacket before the contest and still there was a degree of cowardice shown.) I couldn't decide whether to print all the names here and now, or encourage a witch hunt for those guilty people. I have decided on the latter I like the thought of mates grassing each other up; I feel it leads to a more inclusive and good natured club atmosphere. So: WHO WERE THEY? NAMES PLEASE TO: RIC PRUNIER,63 HA WTHORN STREET, WILMSLOW, CHESHIRE.SK9 5EJ A special mention to Leigh Green at this point, for an act of extreme bravery in fighting his chicken, whilst all around him were backing off. It did look for one awful minute that the chicken might choke him, but with a lightning fast manouvre lasting less than 15 minutes the brave lad turned a certain defeat into victory. Now YOU can hold your head up high. |
| TOUGH TRACKS |
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