Nothing Beautiful About that Game
“Check mate, ye flamin’ donkey!”
Meeester and I try to have one evening a week where we do something all together with the kids that doesn’t involve computer games or telly (“Just one, Misssy?” “Yes just one, I’m not Mary flippin’ Poppins here!”)
The telly is switched off and each week it is someone’s turn to choose what we do. Last night it was Junior Misssy’s turn and she simply chose for us to go to the school playground with bikes and balls and stuff. Nice choice Junior, nice cheap choice. I like that.
Indy likes basketball, so at one point Meeester and I are playing against Indy and his mate, Socks ( that is to be his Misssives moniker, as he once wore five pairs of socks to come across to our house from his as he couldn’t find his shoes). After we sorted out vandalised bent hoops by means of Misssy getting a “shouldery*” from Meeester and displaying her superhuman iron-straightening prowess, we had a blast of a game.
Meanwhile, outside the basketball court, there was football practice going on with boys around the same age as Indy and Socks. At one lull in the pathetically competitive efforts of Meeester and Misssy to whip Socks and Indy’s asses in our game, we heard one footballing boy shout to his mate, “If you can’t get that goal then that makes you gay, right?!”
Sheesh! What? Whaaaat????
Trouble is that kind of abusive (not to mention homophobic) nonsense isn’t just for ten year olds. Not where football’s concerned.
Meeester plays football every week after work with nine or ten other professional and decent men who should really know better.
Each week he comes back with injuries to both pride and ligaments. Each week, arguments have erupted, spirits have been crushed and names have been called. Each week someone takes the huff and quits. Abuse is casually whirled around the hall like they are actually in a prison yard rather than a polite local community centre.
Years ago, my Uncle also used to play football with his workmates but eventually they had to disband the team as people were starting to get quite badly injured and their work-based friendships were beginning to be sorely tested. It was too competitive and had started to turn nasty.
What IS it about football? I mean you don’t see bowls players shouting, “Right Robbie, you’re a poof if you don’t get that lie”
Scrabble players don’t heckle someone “Ha! You missed out on that Bingo, ye Donkey!”
Golfers hardly ever casually shout the word “C**T!” at one another as one chips in a jammy shot right onto the green from a bunker.
And then in the professional football sphere, it doesn’t get much better. It is de rigeur for footballers to verbally abuse one another on and off the park. You just don’t hear it much in big games because they are drowned out by the noise of the spectators hurling abuse and singing sweary made up songs to the tunes of popular chart hits.
One of the things I remember about my childhood in Clydebank was my late Papa taking me and my brother to watch Clydebank play at home. Being a small team with a small crowd, you could hear the players screaming at one another. My Papa was a little dismayed that instead of being all fired up about the game, the only thing me and my brother could talk about on the way home was how the players were constantly swearing and shouting at one another. I can’t remember exactly everything that was said, but when I delve deep in my subconscious there is the phrase,
“If you cannae get that penalty, that makes ye a poof, right?”
* Haven’t had a shouldery in YEARS. It’s my top recommedation of the week- go on, get someone to give you one this weekend. Or at the very least a coalie bag. In fact, invite two mates and have a joust on coalie bags. You’ll thank me (from your hospital beds…)
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Misssy Enrages A Granny
I upset a granny yesterday. In a road rage incident.
The incident is bizarre for two reasons;
1. Road rage is always bloody stupid. People who get upset in their cars should not be allowed behind a wheel. It is ridiculous. Calm the hell down, everyone.
2. You just don’t expect 70+ ladies to be the ones who are raging. I always get a shock when I hear an old lady say the F word too; it’s not right or normal.
To illustrate my point, I am going to describe the rage incident in two ways; the first story will include the vehicles, and not just because I want to namecheck my new mini. In the second, I am going to remove the cars.
Stay with me, it’ll work.
Version One: In Cars
I am in the Tesco car park with the new mini, (wink).
Our local Tesco is being completely revamped, but of course, instead of closing it down while they triple it in size, it stays open to fleece the local community, give their workers tinnitus due to the incessant building noise, and confuse the hell out of everyone as they change both the shop and car park layout every week.
I have provided a crap drawing to illustrate the layout.
(Click on pic to enlarge, or if you’re using blogger, Bild anzeigen in einem Neuen Fenster)
Misssy is motoring along looking for a space. It is raining and she has just straightened her hair. Parking place proximity to shop is a concern, as she has not umbrella and has natural bedspring hair.
She spots a car space (Parking Space 1), and pulls in. But it’s a doubler!! Yay! So she moves forward into the other one (Parking Space 2) , so that she doesn’t have to reverse out. There’s still a wee distance to the shop but she’ll chance it. She has a hat just in case.
But what’s this? Another space much closer to the shop across the second carriageway?
“Beezer”, she thinks, “I’ll have that.”
So she pulls out of space 2 and motors along the carriageway which, fact fans, has ample room for cars going in both directions.
There is a red car coming from the opposite direction. Missy thinks nothing of it and as she stops she puts on her indicator to let everyone know she wants to pull into the space and let the oncoming lady go past.
The older lady does not go past.
Instead, she stops her car, window to window with Misssy. She then SCREAMS with rage at Misssy, and makes a gesture to indicate that this particular carriageway is ONE WAY.
Who knew? Does it matter, there is ample room. No danger is present.
Misssy smiles at the woman and show her surprise at this news, “Sorry!” she mouths, cheerfully, “I didn’t know”.
What happens next is bizarre. The woman doesn’t move on. Instead, she bellows a stream of abuse in the direction of Misssy. Her face is red, and then purple, with anger. As her window is not down, Misssy cannot hear exact words, but there’s a couple of “fuckings” in there . And a couple of “bitches” . Whew what a torrent!
Let’s repeat one fact. This woman is in her SEVENTIES. At least.
Then, satisfied that she has sufficiently spewed enough bile in the direction of Misssy, the angry lady carries on her way. Possibly to have a stroke.
Misssy pulls into the space and assumes the universal “What the fuck??“ facial expression.
* * * * * * * * *
Version 2: On foot
Okay, one way systems don’t exist for pedestrians. I know that. (They may do in Germany, they’re like that. Rules for everything, that lot.) Anyway, suspend your disbelief, please.
A woman is walking down a street and comes across an older woman coming from the opposite direction as she goes past.
“This is a One Way street, you are not supposed to walk this way!” the older lady bellows in the face of the younger woman.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know” explains the younger woman, smiling.
“You stupid fucking bitch,” the woman screams, her face red and then purple with anger, “What the fuck are you doing, you bloody idiot?!!! This is a ONE WAY! A ONE WAY, YOU STUPID BITCH! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING???????!!! AAAARRRGGGGHHHH!”
The woman walks off.
The young woman assumes the universal “What the fuck??” facial expression.
* * * * * * * * *
So, I think we treat this as a public service post.
Lessons learned:
1. Don’t do road rage, it’s silly.
2. Don’t underestimate pensioners. They can be bloody vicious.
3. Smiling at road ragers is a laugh and really winds them up more (not my initial intention, but hey, what a result!)
Lessons not learned
1. Pay attention to signs in car parks
2. Don’t be so concerned about your hair that everything else takes second place.
