Catch Me If You Can

Last Wednesday Larry popped in after his touch rugby session at Chinnor had finished. I was dealing with a call from Barclays Bank Fraud Protection – who were telling me that Vic’s debit card had been cloned and £300 of damage put on it – at the time, so was a bit air-headed.

I forgot to tell Vic (or Keir) that Larry was over again this week and that we’d arranged to meet up at the rugby club for a post-match BBQ. Larry’s better half, Carole, was coming over too.

So Vic was surprised when Larry phoned last night and asked her if “we’re still on for tonight?”. I got the usual Zero Notice is a Bad Thing grilling.

We managed to get up to the rugby club in time to see Larry refereeing the Grand Men’s Final. Very authoritative he was too, with a proper black & white ref’s jersey and a whistle. Carole was nowhere to be seen: she was asleep in the car. It took a few minutes to work out the rules – is it 5 or 6 touches before the ball is turned over to the opposition? – but I soon got the hang of what was going on. I’ve got to say that touch rugby looks a lot of fun. I may well give it a go myself next year, as long as I’m fitter than I am now. In my current state I’d be throwing up after two minutes of intensive running and twisting.

The post BBQ highlights included:

Larry revealing that he doesn’t like films (exceptions to the rule are Dirty Dancing and Wizard of Oz).
Larry spilling a whole pint of bitter when I started to sing Queen’s “Who wants to live forever” to him (Carole is Scottish and likes Highlander).


Who’s In Da House?!

I’ve always been a fan of hip hop. Bringing the noise to my boys since 1987!

My mate Tim Westwood tells me that being called Big Dog is a great honour in the black urban ghettos of Brixton and Thame. Well homies, my Baby Girl Vicster has been calling me Big Dog for years now, unaware that she was setting a new trend for my brothers and sisters on the street. Knowing that I'm the cream of the hip hop crop has me all fired up for my big rap battle showdown with Justin Ruffles next month at Sarah and Gareth’s wedding.

“I’m like a bug. I’m gonna bite.
There’s only one winner of this fight.
Ruffles can scratch, but my rhymes still itch.
Leave the stage, you’re my mother friggin’ b*tch!”

It’s going to be massive. I’m a bomb.


Practise Makes Perfect

When Gaby got made redundant she left behind a little friend for me. Chookie is a 19 inch black cock. He is a soft toy Cheeky Chums rooster, with beady eyes and an aura of general evilness. I love him and he’s one of the few genuine friends I have at work.

His current role is to act as a substitute baby. I’m using him to practise holding a baby and doing things – such as typing on a keyboard. Secretly I think he quite enjoys it.

I am resisting the urge to take him home and dress him up in some of our new baby clothes.