Lord of the Flings..
Whilst at secondary school, I did like to think myself quite the ambidextrous athlete; I took part in Athletics, Football, Hockey, Cross Country, Volleyball, Basket Ball and my favourite Rugby!

We had the obligatory school team and tour bus. Regular practice had honed our skills to the max, every other night we would all meet up and run around on a rain soaked pitch getting very dirty, all in preparation for the county cup competition that was looming ever closer.

The Saturday finally came and speaking on behalf of everyone involved we were physically and mentally ready. We arrived to this magical place where it just seemed to be never ending pitches far as the eye could see (somewhere in Northampton I think). The testosterone of a mini bus full of 15 year olds could be seen (and smelt) in the air, eager for our first proper match.

Quick change later and we were ready, words of encouragement from the PE teacher “not all about winning, blah, have fun, blah” you get the point. To which followed possibly the most one sided game of Rugby ever staged. Now I am not saying we were shit, we were monumentally awful, if you would care to imagine a bunch of one legged, blind, thalidomide’s running (ok Hopping) around trying not only to throw the ball but to catch it and carry it to the other end of the field without being mown down buy ‘so called other boys our age’ emphasis on the OUR AGE part there, utter bollocks! Full beards, tattoos and I am sure some of the mums with buggies on the touch line were actually partners/wives. Imagine the scenes from Lord of the rings Orc army bearing down on you, one particular Ogre of a manbeast had managed to perfect a way of launching me and my team mates with one simple flick of his wrist, I personally did much research on this and trust me it was no fluke.

The painful first half ended and the oranges were replaced by Plasters and Morphine, all I could think about other than the pain was ‘halfway there now’

Approaching the end of the second half of the arse raping we were just going for the consolation try and yes failing miserably. Finally the final whistle went and a collective sigh of relief was heard from us all. But being brought up well we congratulated the Orc army on their success collectively shaking hands and nodding in approval, except for my friend Gareth, who decided to approach the Orc Chieftain and bellowed “you’re a big cunt aren’t ya, no wonder your mum is so loose” and before he could crack the sausage up a tunnel joke he received a nice pair of shiny black eyes and a broken nose, from what must be the biggest forehead since Ant from Ant n Dec. Credit where it’s due though, Gareth didn’t falter (After he got up of course) he apologised with the epic “Sorry, I was just kidding, if I am honest I have the up most respect for you I thought you inbreds were only good for playing banjos in a sinister way and man raping city boys”.

It was at this point we realised we really should of gone to an athletics competition because Roger Banisters mile record was shattered running to and locking himself into the team coach. The PE teacher though was thoroughly impressed with our ‘Efforts’ come to think of it we didn’t do much Rugby after that?

Length? Far too long but chicks seem to dig it?
(MudButton does not mean to offend but......, Wed 25 Nov 2009, 15:41, Reply)