now you won't see that on the telly
Old goats at it again
You wont see that on the telly.
Waiting Waiting Waiting. Will it or wont it? send a text! make a call! waiting waiting waiting .just hoping it will be cancelled.
Bugger arse bugger. Game good to go was the yell. Bring yer bikinis boys.
The Castle Ruins V Pethy pensioner’s game was on. A very dark rainy windy Sunday afternoon the Ruined men of Cary made the treacherous journey through fallen trees and hurricane debris to the far off metropolis of North Petherton. 18 warriors battle hardened over the years. Showing no fear of what lay ahead. A large carriage of modern type was purchased for the day and with swords drawn off we toddled.
The company of fellows felt relaxed and full of good cheer. Banter a plenty within the changing facilities. The mighty goliath Doughnut Millington showing why he is such a force to be reckoned with in the front row but does he have a crack in his armour I thought as I watched the number 1 shirt being stretched over his torso. Tug boat Bray taking the magic pills call IBRUPROFEN ???? A potion he had acquired on one of his may trips abroad to Wiltshire, believing they would make him invincible and Rick playboy Gates his dashing good looks and rock hard buns of steel the king pin within the team.
The fun and frolics commenced The Ruins forced to play into the tide but with the typhoon a bonus. Puddles aplenty and hearts a thumping they charged up the arena of death. The pensioners received the ball from the kick gave it to the really big funny mashed in ears looking one and Smash! he bulldozed his way through one, then two and yet again thrice. Ruined men of Cary left drowning in the rock pools of the battle field. Eventually the gert big lump was felled 10 metres from the try line Cary tried to get back and regroup. Come left was the cry. Come right was another. Confusion was the loudest of all. The Pethy forwards rucked and racked to great effect the ball came out quickly and with one more missed tackle they were over for the score. All around the Cary half lay black and red bodies smashed and thrown around like rag dolls. Yet they still got to their feet and with big grins and mud splattered faces took to the field once again to stop the giant ogres. They had managed to hold out 3 minutes, it was still there for the taking! Not all was lost! For the next 20 minutes the Pethy pack rampaged around the park. When held up by the defiant Ruins they craftily gave it to the gazelles and dancing queens in the backs. Cunning plan we all thought. A well-rehearsed nimble bunch of men running weird and confusing lines the defence could not see. However the tackling start to come good and the slow start of Cary eventually ebbed away. The forwards were scrimmaging like a pack of rabid dogs after a bone all tight and snarly like?? The link between forwards and backs was quick and easy. Gates showing his class and style making breaks from all areas. Kicking in to spaces no one else could ever dare to see was a sight to behold. His men followed and started to take the game to the enemy. Peeeep. The referee peeped with whistle. Half time score a lot to nil but we had them on the ropes. First half deaths and fatal injuries Roscoe- lumbago after leaning on the posts and hand slipped off. Nick Forster-severed leg after tying his laces too tight. They wanted to continue to keep the team together but the interchangeable reserves that we had we more than capable of stumbling and making arses of themselves on this pitch.
After a heart rendering speech and a rather good version of “whats new pussy cat” by the captain. The second half was a different contest, Cary forwards were taking the bull by the horns and raving psycho Lee Harding playing number 8 picking the ball up at every chance he had so that he could maim and trample all over the Pethy fly half. Outstanding to watch but would that bugger pass the ball. The backs when in possession were moving forward at an acceptable pace, The Pensioners now knew they had a game on their hands. With 10 minutes to go Slash and Roper at second row were fed up of looking at Millies back side and asked if the Father of rugby could please come on. We had left the old sod on the touch line for too long, but he had not wasted his time. He had studied the scrums, rucks and mauls. He now knew which poor so and so was going to get it first. First scrum in. down went the 16. Ooooff, uuuurgh, wheeze, snap, crackle and pop. Here’s daddy!
As the push went on. Cary popped the ball out to the backs and made a gallant effort towards the try line getting within at least touching distance of the halfway line. But back at the scrum area a sad lonely pensioner lay in the mud and dirt. The Tight head Pethy prop had met his match and more 15 years his elder. A sly grin and a spring in his step Father trotted towards the next scrum looking for another victim. The game was nearing the end and Cary was gaining the upper hand. Numerous times the forwards and backs breaking the gain line. 2 minutes to go another scrum taken against the head, juggernaut Harding picking up from the back on he rumbled “where’s that Number 10 “I heard him mumble ”grrrrr kill maim” a very scary man indeed. Tackle after tackle he broke away from, 20 metre 15 metre “pass you big oaf!!”the team mates around him asked politely. Two on is outside and one on the inner. But no no no no way. 10 metre another tackle broken, 5 metre poor little winger came in for the last ditch effort. Slap! HAND OFF! face mashed in and left looking at the studs of the monstrous number 8. Over the line in the far corner 5 team mates around him, who he could have passed to half a pitch back to make it easier, but what the hell who cares the Ruins were on the score board. Hoooraaaah The supporters from Cary went wild, The local snorkel diving club came up for air and blew a bubble pop it went and the little donkey stuck in the swamp by the pub pulled himself out and let out a rather loud bray, he was so happy.
That was it the final whistle went just in time as the clouds were darkening once again over North Petherton. 51-5 to the home team. Close very closeish but The Ruins were beaten. Fine performances from all once again, however special mentions for H in the front row for cuddling and managing to get his arms round Millie, Scott and James for so long. To Pete for being Prop, Flank, centre and wing and Pits for getting the kit washed yet again. The only minor injuries recorded from the second half including SEMTEX-heartbroken because he never got to fight anyone, Karen Travers –collapsed because James made it through without an injury and Gazza Powell small nick to his left pinky my need plastic surgery and a bit of liposuction. The beer was a pleasant tasting variety and a number seemed to be quaffed at the club house along with cider, Guinness and that ladies drink lager.
Tour in the new season chaps bring it on and let’s win one.
Happy stamping rucks and finger breaking mauls to you all