I've finally won an MTT on Full Tilt. Not only an MTT but the Brit Blogger one no less.
Been watching the Players all night. Stenson has been absolutely awesome shooting a final round 66. Bet he wishes he could win the blogger tourney though.
Later.
Sunday, 10 May 2009
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Poker and bets
Been a pretty shit week off the tables but on them I've done okay. Five out of six cashes in MTT's with the best being a 2nd for $240. Was a bit gutted with second has the first hand of heads up was a QQ9 flop with me holding 910. Opponent bet $4k, I call. Turn Q. He bets another $4k and I go all in. He calls and turns over the other Q. Fucking typical.
I've also been playing $0.25/0.50 on Betfair and have won approximately $500 this week including MTT cashes. Spunked £100 of that away on the Footie when I had Sparta, Shakhter and Hamburg to win. Never bet on the UEFA Cup.
I've got Gossen in the Golf who is in contention. I've also had some on Angel at 15s. Can't see Cejka staying in front and Poulter could do anything. When I say anything I do mean that. I wouldn't even blink if he shanked one on the 17th today.
Had £40 on Anderlecht, Brescia, Dortmund, Hertha and Raith today. Fingers crossed.
Had a big one last Sunday for the Heineken Cup Semi. The Blues were dead and buried with twenty minutes to go but two late trys and Blair landing both conversions from the touchline meant extra time. Both teams played the extra twenty minutes on the half way line, not wanting to give anything away and we then had the absurdity that is penalty kicks.
Now, I've got no problem with a penalty shoot out in Football. It doesn't matter what position you play, you should be able to kick a ball. Not quite the same in Rugby though and when Martyn Williams, an open side and probably one of Wales' best players over the last five years, walked forward to take what turned out to be the decisive kick, my heart sank. Martyn Williams has probably not even taken a penalty before in his distinguished career, he probably hasn't kicked a ball for three years. He of course missed and Leicester won. Absolutely gutted.
At least one of our crew was happy has he had played for Leicester in the early nineties. Wanker.
Several ciders later and we bumped into a couple of mates. One of them told me a story which absolutely stunned me.
A few months ago I went to Glasgow on a stag weekend. The stag was a guy I knew quite well through Football although he wasn't one of the boys I would normally go on the piss with. He knew a few of my mates really well as they were from the same village. On the stag weekend he told us that he was going away for a month after the wedding. We all assumed he meant on a honeymoon. He actually went to the Priory. Turns out he has a really bad gambling problem. Worst still, he's been caught stealing from his Employers. His case goes to Crown Court this Summer and he's fully expected to go down for 2-5 years. I'm stunned because I have never seen him placing a bet. By all accounts he's done £200k. How the fuck can you lose that amount of money. Amazingly his wife knew all this before marrying him. I suppose he's got that going for him although Fuck knows what he'll do for a living when he gets out.
Later.
I've also been playing $0.25/0.50 on Betfair and have won approximately $500 this week including MTT cashes. Spunked £100 of that away on the Footie when I had Sparta, Shakhter and Hamburg to win. Never bet on the UEFA Cup.
I've got Gossen in the Golf who is in contention. I've also had some on Angel at 15s. Can't see Cejka staying in front and Poulter could do anything. When I say anything I do mean that. I wouldn't even blink if he shanked one on the 17th today.
Had £40 on Anderlecht, Brescia, Dortmund, Hertha and Raith today. Fingers crossed.
Had a big one last Sunday for the Heineken Cup Semi. The Blues were dead and buried with twenty minutes to go but two late trys and Blair landing both conversions from the touchline meant extra time. Both teams played the extra twenty minutes on the half way line, not wanting to give anything away and we then had the absurdity that is penalty kicks.
Now, I've got no problem with a penalty shoot out in Football. It doesn't matter what position you play, you should be able to kick a ball. Not quite the same in Rugby though and when Martyn Williams, an open side and probably one of Wales' best players over the last five years, walked forward to take what turned out to be the decisive kick, my heart sank. Martyn Williams has probably not even taken a penalty before in his distinguished career, he probably hasn't kicked a ball for three years. He of course missed and Leicester won. Absolutely gutted.
At least one of our crew was happy has he had played for Leicester in the early nineties. Wanker.
Several ciders later and we bumped into a couple of mates. One of them told me a story which absolutely stunned me.
A few months ago I went to Glasgow on a stag weekend. The stag was a guy I knew quite well through Football although he wasn't one of the boys I would normally go on the piss with. He knew a few of my mates really well as they were from the same village. On the stag weekend he told us that he was going away for a month after the wedding. We all assumed he meant on a honeymoon. He actually went to the Priory. Turns out he has a really bad gambling problem. Worst still, he's been caught stealing from his Employers. His case goes to Crown Court this Summer and he's fully expected to go down for 2-5 years. I'm stunned because I have never seen him placing a bet. By all accounts he's done £200k. How the fuck can you lose that amount of money. Amazingly his wife knew all this before marrying him. I suppose he's got that going for him although Fuck knows what he'll do for a living when he gets out.
Later.
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Stop crying your heart out
In my adult life I can only remember crying four times.
The first time was when my Daughter was born. I'm sure Pud and Rossi will agree has they have just become Fathers, that being present at your childs birth is one of the most nerve wrecking moments a Man can endure. The feeling of helplessness hits you like a sledgehammer. You're in a room with Doctors and Midwifes running around, your Missus is in obvious discomfort/pain and all you can do is hold her hand and whisper "push" in her ear. Nothing seems to go right and you're just stood there like the preverbial spare prick at the wedding, praying for everything to be allright. Finally, you're handed a baby and the feeling of relief that everything has gone to plan and your Daughter/Son is alive and kicking sweeps over you like a tidal wave. One of my best mates girlfriend was the midwife and the pair of us just stood there crying like a pair of babies ourselves.
The second was a year later in my Grans funeral. My Dad died two months before I was born and both his parents were already dead. My Grandad on my Mothers side was dead as well so my Gran gave up work to bring me up and let my Mum carve out her career. I never fully understood the sacrafices my Gran had made until the day of her funeral. I was stood in the crematorium and it was only then that I realised that all the mourners were mine or my Mothers friends. There were a few neighbours who knew my Gran but no one that I would have said was a friend of hers. I guess, after I was old enough to look after myself, my Gran was too old to return to work or couldn't be bothered. She didn't drink or do bingo or anything like that and I suppose she just outlived people she knew or grew apart from work colleagues and the like. I shed a few tears then and still think about her every day.
The third time was probably the saddest day I care to remember and one I hope I never have to experience again. My Daughter went to creche when she was six months old and continued in the same group of nurserys until she was old enough to go to school. There was a girl there called Megan who started at the same time and when she was old enough, used to come to our house for tea twice a week. They both went to the same school and were in the same class. The pair of them were inseperable. One day my Missus is picking my Daughter up and her teacher asks how Megan is. My Missus says she knows nothing and the teacher tells her she's in hospital because she had fallen out of bed. We both thought she had maybe broken her arm or something so my Wife goes to the hospital where she bumps into Megans parents, crying their hearts out. It transpires she had an inoperable brain tumour. For the next year I watched this lovely little girl deteriorate until she couldn't go to school any longer. About 18 months after the initial diagnosis she died in her sleep. Her funeral was the worst experience of my life. There wasn't one person there not crying and I include the Priest in that. I still see her parents now and feel guilty about not being able to do anything for them. I hope anyone who reads this doesn't have to go through what they did.
The last time I cried was an hour ago when I cuddled my cat in my arms as the vet put her down. I've had cats for as long as I can remember but strangely can never remember any of them dying. Some I was probably too young to register what had happened. Others, I had moved away and had visited my Mum and there was no cat there. Some just never came home one day and that was that. Today was different. I have had Rascal for twelve years and she was a beautiful cat. Her kidneys packed in for no apparent reason and there was nothing the vets could do. I've got another cat, her sister and I guess I'll cry like a baby when she passes away as well.
Depressing post but that's how I feel at the moment.
Later.
The first time was when my Daughter was born. I'm sure Pud and Rossi will agree has they have just become Fathers, that being present at your childs birth is one of the most nerve wrecking moments a Man can endure. The feeling of helplessness hits you like a sledgehammer. You're in a room with Doctors and Midwifes running around, your Missus is in obvious discomfort/pain and all you can do is hold her hand and whisper "push" in her ear. Nothing seems to go right and you're just stood there like the preverbial spare prick at the wedding, praying for everything to be allright. Finally, you're handed a baby and the feeling of relief that everything has gone to plan and your Daughter/Son is alive and kicking sweeps over you like a tidal wave. One of my best mates girlfriend was the midwife and the pair of us just stood there crying like a pair of babies ourselves.
The second was a year later in my Grans funeral. My Dad died two months before I was born and both his parents were already dead. My Grandad on my Mothers side was dead as well so my Gran gave up work to bring me up and let my Mum carve out her career. I never fully understood the sacrafices my Gran had made until the day of her funeral. I was stood in the crematorium and it was only then that I realised that all the mourners were mine or my Mothers friends. There were a few neighbours who knew my Gran but no one that I would have said was a friend of hers. I guess, after I was old enough to look after myself, my Gran was too old to return to work or couldn't be bothered. She didn't drink or do bingo or anything like that and I suppose she just outlived people she knew or grew apart from work colleagues and the like. I shed a few tears then and still think about her every day.
The third time was probably the saddest day I care to remember and one I hope I never have to experience again. My Daughter went to creche when she was six months old and continued in the same group of nurserys until she was old enough to go to school. There was a girl there called Megan who started at the same time and when she was old enough, used to come to our house for tea twice a week. They both went to the same school and were in the same class. The pair of them were inseperable. One day my Missus is picking my Daughter up and her teacher asks how Megan is. My Missus says she knows nothing and the teacher tells her she's in hospital because she had fallen out of bed. We both thought she had maybe broken her arm or something so my Wife goes to the hospital where she bumps into Megans parents, crying their hearts out. It transpires she had an inoperable brain tumour. For the next year I watched this lovely little girl deteriorate until she couldn't go to school any longer. About 18 months after the initial diagnosis she died in her sleep. Her funeral was the worst experience of my life. There wasn't one person there not crying and I include the Priest in that. I still see her parents now and feel guilty about not being able to do anything for them. I hope anyone who reads this doesn't have to go through what they did.
The last time I cried was an hour ago when I cuddled my cat in my arms as the vet put her down. I've had cats for as long as I can remember but strangely can never remember any of them dying. Some I was probably too young to register what had happened. Others, I had moved away and had visited my Mum and there was no cat there. Some just never came home one day and that was that. Today was different. I have had Rascal for twelve years and she was a beautiful cat. Her kidneys packed in for no apparent reason and there was nothing the vets could do. I've got another cat, her sister and I guess I'll cry like a baby when she passes away as well.
Depressing post but that's how I feel at the moment.
Later.
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Shit day
Was going to write a post about the weekend. I had an absolute blast but today I had to take one of my cats to the vets. Bottom line is they don't think she will make it through the night.
Just to top that off Arsenal are getting stuffed.
Can't be bothered now.
Just to top that off Arsenal are getting stuffed.
Can't be bothered now.
Friday, 1 May 2009
POA (plan of attack)
Wrote this in work at 11ish when I was bored shitless.
Plan of attack for weekend is as follows:
Tonight, take Daughter to ballet then cook tea before disappearing down pub for a couple of ciders.
Up early Saturday for Golf. Place a few bets followed by snooze in afternoon. Early evening, disappear down pub for a few ciders.
Sunday, take Daughter to Church, cook Sunday dinner then disappear into City to watch Blues v Leicester followed by lots of ciders.
Monday, disappear and do fuck all.
As you can tell I disappear with alarming regularity. I’m like David fucking Copperfield.
My best disappearing act happened several years ago. I was living with my now wife but at the time we weren’t married. One Friday night I got home from work and popped out at 5ish to get a pint of milk. As you do, I nipped in the pub for a quick one and whilst there my mate rang and the conversation went a bit like this.
“Where are you”? “Pub”. “What you wearing”? “Suit”. “Good, I’ll be there in ten minutes”.
Sure enough, my mate turns up all suited and booted and hands me a ticket for the boxing that night. Steve Robinson, who was then World Champion, was having his last fight before meeting Naseer Hamed. So we have a few beers and head into town. After the boxing we meet up with my mates brother and head off to this dodgy club he’s a member of. Several hours later I wake up in the VIP section with this blonde sitting on my lap kissing my neck. I swear, when the three of us left this club with three girls in tow, not only was it light but it was fucking hot as well and there were hundreds of people out and about doing their shopping.
We head back to my mates brothers house for a party and then, after the girls have left, go to Rugby. My mate and I turn up absolutely bollocksed, borrow some boots and play. I make a break in the first five minutes, run twenty yards up the line and with no one near me, step into touch and throw up. It wasn’t the best game of Rugby I’ve ever played.
The pair of us then go straight back out on the piss with all the boys, still in the same clothes and end up in some party.
We finally get back to my mates house about 13.00 on the Sunday afternoon and his long suffering girlfriend gives me a lift home, with my mate in tow for moral support. When I walk in the house my missus doesn’t bat an eyelid although the first thing she asks is “where’s the milk”?
Doubt if I could get away with anything like that now but I might try it next weekend.
Later.
Plan of attack for weekend is as follows:
Tonight, take Daughter to ballet then cook tea before disappearing down pub for a couple of ciders.
Up early Saturday for Golf. Place a few bets followed by snooze in afternoon. Early evening, disappear down pub for a few ciders.
Sunday, take Daughter to Church, cook Sunday dinner then disappear into City to watch Blues v Leicester followed by lots of ciders.
Monday, disappear and do fuck all.
As you can tell I disappear with alarming regularity. I’m like David fucking Copperfield.
My best disappearing act happened several years ago. I was living with my now wife but at the time we weren’t married. One Friday night I got home from work and popped out at 5ish to get a pint of milk. As you do, I nipped in the pub for a quick one and whilst there my mate rang and the conversation went a bit like this.
“Where are you”? “Pub”. “What you wearing”? “Suit”. “Good, I’ll be there in ten minutes”.
Sure enough, my mate turns up all suited and booted and hands me a ticket for the boxing that night. Steve Robinson, who was then World Champion, was having his last fight before meeting Naseer Hamed. So we have a few beers and head into town. After the boxing we meet up with my mates brother and head off to this dodgy club he’s a member of. Several hours later I wake up in the VIP section with this blonde sitting on my lap kissing my neck. I swear, when the three of us left this club with three girls in tow, not only was it light but it was fucking hot as well and there were hundreds of people out and about doing their shopping.
We head back to my mates brothers house for a party and then, after the girls have left, go to Rugby. My mate and I turn up absolutely bollocksed, borrow some boots and play. I make a break in the first five minutes, run twenty yards up the line and with no one near me, step into touch and throw up. It wasn’t the best game of Rugby I’ve ever played.
The pair of us then go straight back out on the piss with all the boys, still in the same clothes and end up in some party.
We finally get back to my mates house about 13.00 on the Sunday afternoon and his long suffering girlfriend gives me a lift home, with my mate in tow for moral support. When I walk in the house my missus doesn’t bat an eyelid although the first thing she asks is “where’s the milk”?
Doubt if I could get away with anything like that now but I might try it next weekend.
Later.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Poker and betting
Not much to report on the Poker front. Lost a buy in ($25) on Full Tilt over the past week. Haven't really been running that bad just lost a few decent pots and couldn't entice anyone into a pot when I was holding the nuts. Had one decent cash on Betfair and lost several more when I've either been playing when tired or haven't really cared.
Now the good news. I haven't really cared on Betfair because I've had a couple of big Footie wins. Had a little treble up on Sunday for £100 and then came the Man Utd match.
Was watching it down the pub with a few boys and half way through the first half said I'd wait until half time and then lump on Man Utd. Of course, Spurs score so I have £100 at 2.7. Then they score again and I have another £50 at 6's. Anyhow, my three mates want to have a bet on 3-2 to United so I pop in the bookies who say they can't do in running correct scores but Utd are 11/2 so I have another £100. My three tight fisted mates give me a fiver each. At 2-1 they give me another £5. At 2-2, one slips me another £15. At 3-2 the other two are begging me for a quarter share. At 5-2they're almost in tears. Of course, being the nice guy I am, I split the winnings 25%each which gives us all £162.50. I've got another £400 on top of that. Happy days.
I then get pissed as per norm and drunkenly try to lay Kenny Perry when he's about 2.5 with everyone a shot behind. Eight holes later and I'm staring at a big loss so try to trade out only to find my initial lay bet hadn't gone through. Even happier days.
Just to show that I'm really running golden I even won Dani C's effin award. Check out Effin Mom blog on the right. Brought back down to earth today though when I didn't even get a mention on Soccer Moms caption contest when I thought I'd delivered a belter. Even got snubbed by Mo and his zombie chicken award. Never mind, can't win them all.
Not sure if I'm going to have a punt tonight. Should be a cracker of a match and I secretly fancy Chelsea to pull off a shock 1-0 win. That could look a really shit statement after twenty minutes when Barca are three up mind and that's entirely possible with their forward line.
I've put my name down to go on a poker weekend with the Raise the River forum to DTD in Nottingham in a couple of months time. I know quite a lot of you Poker guys are already members there but if you're not, there's a link down the right hand side. Check it out and see what you think.
All the best.
Later.
Now the good news. I haven't really cared on Betfair because I've had a couple of big Footie wins. Had a little treble up on Sunday for £100 and then came the Man Utd match.
Was watching it down the pub with a few boys and half way through the first half said I'd wait until half time and then lump on Man Utd. Of course, Spurs score so I have £100 at 2.7. Then they score again and I have another £50 at 6's. Anyhow, my three mates want to have a bet on 3-2 to United so I pop in the bookies who say they can't do in running correct scores but Utd are 11/2 so I have another £100. My three tight fisted mates give me a fiver each. At 2-1 they give me another £5. At 2-2, one slips me another £15. At 3-2 the other two are begging me for a quarter share. At 5-2they're almost in tears. Of course, being the nice guy I am, I split the winnings 25%each which gives us all £162.50. I've got another £400 on top of that. Happy days.
I then get pissed as per norm and drunkenly try to lay Kenny Perry when he's about 2.5 with everyone a shot behind. Eight holes later and I'm staring at a big loss so try to trade out only to find my initial lay bet hadn't gone through. Even happier days.
Just to show that I'm really running golden I even won Dani C's effin award. Check out Effin Mom blog on the right. Brought back down to earth today though when I didn't even get a mention on Soccer Moms caption contest when I thought I'd delivered a belter. Even got snubbed by Mo and his zombie chicken award. Never mind, can't win them all.
Not sure if I'm going to have a punt tonight. Should be a cracker of a match and I secretly fancy Chelsea to pull off a shock 1-0 win. That could look a really shit statement after twenty minutes when Barca are three up mind and that's entirely possible with their forward line.
I've put my name down to go on a poker weekend with the Raise the River forum to DTD in Nottingham in a couple of months time. I know quite a lot of you Poker guys are already members there but if you're not, there's a link down the right hand side. Check it out and see what you think.
All the best.
Later.
Friday, 24 April 2009
Cat shit
Well, summer must be around the corner because I've just had to go to B & Q to buy a fly mo. Spent the last half an hour mowing the back garden and I can't believe just how much shit my two cats produce. Funnily enough, whilst I was pondering this I couldn't help but think of George Clooney. Some of you might have already guessed the link but for the others who haven't here's the story.
George used to share a house with Richard Kind when they were both struggling actors. Richard bought this kitten and every morning George used to get up early to do whatever George does early in the morning. Whilst he was up he used to clean out the litter tray and flush it down the toilet. After a few days Richard says "George, I'm really worried about the cat, he hasn't shit since I've bought it". George, spotting the opportunity for a good wind up, says nothing. Another few days go by where George cleans the litter tray without Richards knowledge. Finally he says, "that's it, I'm taking the kitten to the vets tomorrow to have him seen to". The next morning George gets up and cleans the litter tray and then takes a dump in there himself. Richard gets up, walks in the kitchen and shrieks. George saunters in and there's Richard holding this tiny kitten alongside this huge turd. He turns to George and says "fuck me, he must have been bursting, poor little thing". Classic.
One of my favourite wind ups I witnessed happened when I was eighteen. I'd had a serious leg injury and had been on crutches for a year. I started training on my own and one day bumped into a guy I had been playing Football with in the team where I had the break. We spoke for a while and he said about training with the team he was now playing for. I went training and said I wasn't going to play that season but if they were interested I would sign next season. They were an Amateur League team and pretty good so it was a good move for me. With about four games left they asked me to play and I scored a couple of times.
Most of the team were in their mid to late twenties and all lived in the same village. Several of them were mad as fuck. They had arranged an end of season tour and asked me to go. Not knowing them that well, other than they were barking, I declined saying I was skint. Our goalie, Pricko, was the worst.
We got through to the Semi's of the Amateur League cup and were playing the South Wales Police who were really good. Fifteen minutes before kick off and no sign of Pricko so the manager goes down his house and he's watching TV. The manager asks him what he's up to and Pricko says he can't play because the Police have a warrant out for his arrest. We lost that game. In another we've played about twenty minutes and Prickos got the ball and calls the Ref over. The Ref asks what's wrong and Pricko asks if he can stop the game because he's busting for a shit. The Ref says no and says he'll have to wait until half time. Pricko clears the ball and we go down field and get a corner. There's an almighty roar from the crowd as we're about to take it and everyone turns round to see Pricko having a shit behind the goals. He gets sent off and we lose that game.
Anyhow, last game of the season and we're having a few beers afterwards when Pricko asks where I want to get picked up the Friday after. I look at him bemused and say there's no game and he says no, to go on tour. I again decline saying I'm skint and he says don't worry we've all chipped in. Fuck.
We're on the bus going to Blackpool and just before you get on the M4 in Cardiff there's a huge roundabout. In the lay by there's this blonde hitching a lift. The bus stops and this girl gets on. Mid twenties, big tits, short skirt, strangely attractive. There's the usual "get your tits out" calls, mainly from Pricko and this girl walks up the bus and asks him if he's all mouth. Now Pricko wasn't called Pricko for nothing. He pulls his dick out and this girl gets on her knees and starts blowing him to huge cheers from the rest of the bus. After he shoots his muck this girl walks back down the bus and in the next lay by the driver pulls over and there's a car waiting for her. She turns around by the door and says to Pricko "not bad but not as big as this" and lifts her skirt to show us all the biggest dick I've ever seen. Pricko goes absolutely ape shit as the whole bus starts pissing themselves. The manager had exacted his revenge for Pricko getting sent off and missing the Semi Final. Fortunately the manager was hard as fuck and no one messed with him not even Pricko. Best wind up I've ever seen.
Later.
Edit - played golf today and was absolutley crap. Am now off to the last match at Ninian Park, league match that is. Todays bet is Cardiff, Chelsea, Liverpool, Man Utd, Brescia, MK Dons and Stuttgart. Good luck if you're up to anything today.
George used to share a house with Richard Kind when they were both struggling actors. Richard bought this kitten and every morning George used to get up early to do whatever George does early in the morning. Whilst he was up he used to clean out the litter tray and flush it down the toilet. After a few days Richard says "George, I'm really worried about the cat, he hasn't shit since I've bought it". George, spotting the opportunity for a good wind up, says nothing. Another few days go by where George cleans the litter tray without Richards knowledge. Finally he says, "that's it, I'm taking the kitten to the vets tomorrow to have him seen to". The next morning George gets up and cleans the litter tray and then takes a dump in there himself. Richard gets up, walks in the kitchen and shrieks. George saunters in and there's Richard holding this tiny kitten alongside this huge turd. He turns to George and says "fuck me, he must have been bursting, poor little thing". Classic.
One of my favourite wind ups I witnessed happened when I was eighteen. I'd had a serious leg injury and had been on crutches for a year. I started training on my own and one day bumped into a guy I had been playing Football with in the team where I had the break. We spoke for a while and he said about training with the team he was now playing for. I went training and said I wasn't going to play that season but if they were interested I would sign next season. They were an Amateur League team and pretty good so it was a good move for me. With about four games left they asked me to play and I scored a couple of times.
Most of the team were in their mid to late twenties and all lived in the same village. Several of them were mad as fuck. They had arranged an end of season tour and asked me to go. Not knowing them that well, other than they were barking, I declined saying I was skint. Our goalie, Pricko, was the worst.
We got through to the Semi's of the Amateur League cup and were playing the South Wales Police who were really good. Fifteen minutes before kick off and no sign of Pricko so the manager goes down his house and he's watching TV. The manager asks him what he's up to and Pricko says he can't play because the Police have a warrant out for his arrest. We lost that game. In another we've played about twenty minutes and Prickos got the ball and calls the Ref over. The Ref asks what's wrong and Pricko asks if he can stop the game because he's busting for a shit. The Ref says no and says he'll have to wait until half time. Pricko clears the ball and we go down field and get a corner. There's an almighty roar from the crowd as we're about to take it and everyone turns round to see Pricko having a shit behind the goals. He gets sent off and we lose that game.
Anyhow, last game of the season and we're having a few beers afterwards when Pricko asks where I want to get picked up the Friday after. I look at him bemused and say there's no game and he says no, to go on tour. I again decline saying I'm skint and he says don't worry we've all chipped in. Fuck.
We're on the bus going to Blackpool and just before you get on the M4 in Cardiff there's a huge roundabout. In the lay by there's this blonde hitching a lift. The bus stops and this girl gets on. Mid twenties, big tits, short skirt, strangely attractive. There's the usual "get your tits out" calls, mainly from Pricko and this girl walks up the bus and asks him if he's all mouth. Now Pricko wasn't called Pricko for nothing. He pulls his dick out and this girl gets on her knees and starts blowing him to huge cheers from the rest of the bus. After he shoots his muck this girl walks back down the bus and in the next lay by the driver pulls over and there's a car waiting for her. She turns around by the door and says to Pricko "not bad but not as big as this" and lifts her skirt to show us all the biggest dick I've ever seen. Pricko goes absolutely ape shit as the whole bus starts pissing themselves. The manager had exacted his revenge for Pricko getting sent off and missing the Semi Final. Fortunately the manager was hard as fuck and no one messed with him not even Pricko. Best wind up I've ever seen.
Later.
Edit - played golf today and was absolutley crap. Am now off to the last match at Ninian Park, league match that is. Todays bet is Cardiff, Chelsea, Liverpool, Man Utd, Brescia, MK Dons and Stuttgart. Good luck if you're up to anything today.
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