First off a question ... what's a Grecian earn? Answer ... about thirty bob a week. I just realized that this joke really doesn't work in written form .... urn = earn. Anyway, moving on. This game was dominated by a lamb on a spit. Dimos was at Captain Gilfeather's ranch at daybreak to personally insert a long shaft into the cavity of the beast which was thence duly trussed up. The lamb was cooked over an open fire for hours whilst being attended to by a couple of amiable fellows who apparently guard roasting meats for Dimos on a fairly regular basis ... there must be a name for such a service but I don't know it ... lamb shaftee attendants perhaps? After the match we trogged over to Captain Gilfeather's but the beast was not ready for consumption so we drank away the time and eventually we feasted like real men ... gorging on hunks of tender meat and guzzling tankards of mead. I farted my way home and collapsed on the couch in a lamb coma ... hours passed by which time the fermentation process in my belly produced some prize winning emissions. Eventually I showered, donned some clean shreddies and honked away the afternoon until I dragged myself to a graduation party where I ate nothing and drank nothing for the simple reason that nothing would fit. ... a great day.
What of the footy? We were crap in the first half. Everyone played like crap (and I was the crappest of all) and we coughed up two goals. Andy gave a Churchillian half time speech and we played much better although not at our best. Captain Flicky belted one in from an improbably angle and Dimos got the second. We really needed a winner but it was not to be. Two wins from our last two games will be needed to secure top spot and I think it will come to pass.
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| Foreplay. |
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| A smiling "bubble" completing insertion. |
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| Let the drinking begin. |
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| Political discourse. |
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| I'll have a wing. |
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| Doug V doing what he does best .... talking loudly. |
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