Vale of Lune RUFC
Club News
FRIDGE ON THE RIVER WYRE.
Pun: n. A joke exploiting the different meanings of a word or the fact that there are words of the same sound that have different meanings. OED
Sandwiched between the tears of frustration and the wringing of hands, the punning went on at a merry lick on the way back from Wigton, although it must be said that a brooding Solicitor kept his own counsel.
The Historian started the flow which gradually turned into a bubbling torrent, Gilly’s mighty hands stared to twitch and quiver like daffodils in the breeze, but he was unable to locate a suitable target in a quick fire exchange.
A similar pattern continued in the Maurice Armstrong Bar after the France Ireland game had been called off later in the evening. Gilly’s head again swivelled in all directions, the occasional slap was administered but for the Alies it was very much ohm from ohm because after the shocks experienced at Lowmoor Road their resistance was low and their heads were filled with too many negative vibes.
However, Matron soon brought them down to earth with some positive suggestions, like cleaning out the cat litter, making the Horlicks, filling the hot water bottle and quickly by-passing any currents of dissent.
Quite a number of the regular Alies were absent to the trip to Wigton, they were the lucky ones! The Major and the Fitter had swapped a chilly north for the delights of Rome, while the Consultant was busy polishing up his skean-dhu and trimming his sporran ahead of a trip to Cardiff; unfortunately the “Flower of Scotland” wilted again.
There was no shortage of Alies including the Tiler who renewed his acquaintance with Mark the driver; apparently they had worked together years ago. Some splendid banter was exchanged throughout the day but Mark ended on top when, on the return journey, and completely straight faced, he announced that one of the tyres had punctured. Cue a tirade from the Tiler and much guffawing from Mark. There was a swift retort from the Tiler when he realised he had been subjected to a wind-up but by then he was already one set down.
Shortly after departure from The Lane the historian produced a tub of “Dog Oil” and after some of the Alies had enjoyed a brief, but exhilarating massage, Shagpile unleashed a bottle of Pinot Grigio but unfortunately no glasses. He eventually located some dusty looking pint plastic glasses in an overhead locker which gave an added piquancy to a boisterous wine and the ideal accompaniment to a fulsome pork pie.
Enty rattled off the final answers to Gilly’s crossword and later in the day he pulled off another coup when his signed up Mark, the driver, as a member.
All the Alies were greeted at Wigton by one of the Vale legends, Malcolm Brown and while the “Wigton Four” were tucking into a superb lunch of meat pie, chips and mushy peas and trying to avoid the paparazzi, other Vale favourites, Les Dent, Sam Hodgson and Kenny Graham appeared.
What a pity they could not have witnessed a more illuminating performance from the Vale but I don’t suppose Malcolm was complaining after some of the tribulations of the season so far, but if Wigton can avoid blowing too many fuses their North One West lights should not be blacked out.
The Historian started the flow which gradually turned into a bubbling torrent, Gilly’s mighty hands stared to twitch and quiver like daffodils in the breeze, but he was unable to locate a suitable target in a quick fire exchange.
A similar pattern continued in the Maurice Armstrong Bar after the France Ireland game had been called off later in the evening. Gilly’s head again swivelled in all directions, the occasional slap was administered but for the Alies it was very much ohm from ohm because after the shocks experienced at Lowmoor Road their resistance was low and their heads were filled with too many negative vibes.
However, Matron soon brought them down to earth with some positive suggestions, like cleaning out the cat litter, making the Horlicks, filling the hot water bottle and quickly by-passing any currents of dissent.
Quite a number of the regular Alies were absent to the trip to Wigton, they were the lucky ones! The Major and the Fitter had swapped a chilly north for the delights of Rome, while the Consultant was busy polishing up his skean-dhu and trimming his sporran ahead of a trip to Cardiff; unfortunately the “Flower of Scotland” wilted again.
There was no shortage of Alies including the Tiler who renewed his acquaintance with Mark the driver; apparently they had worked together years ago. Some splendid banter was exchanged throughout the day but Mark ended on top when, on the return journey, and completely straight faced, he announced that one of the tyres had punctured. Cue a tirade from the Tiler and much guffawing from Mark. There was a swift retort from the Tiler when he realised he had been subjected to a wind-up but by then he was already one set down.
Shortly after departure from The Lane the historian produced a tub of “Dog Oil” and after some of the Alies had enjoyed a brief, but exhilarating massage, Shagpile unleashed a bottle of Pinot Grigio but unfortunately no glasses. He eventually located some dusty looking pint plastic glasses in an overhead locker which gave an added piquancy to a boisterous wine and the ideal accompaniment to a fulsome pork pie.
Enty rattled off the final answers to Gilly’s crossword and later in the day he pulled off another coup when his signed up Mark, the driver, as a member.
All the Alies were greeted at Wigton by one of the Vale legends, Malcolm Brown and while the “Wigton Four” were tucking into a superb lunch of meat pie, chips and mushy peas and trying to avoid the paparazzi, other Vale favourites, Les Dent, Sam Hodgson and Kenny Graham appeared.
What a pity they could not have witnessed a more illuminating performance from the Vale but I don’t suppose Malcolm was complaining after some of the tribulations of the season so far, but if Wigton can avoid blowing too many fuses their North One West lights should not be blacked out.
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