Good Times (and Great Rock and Roll)
T'was a day fillled with cleanly gooodness (steed riding, swimming) and a new outlook on the decadent life I have lived so far. "No more tipples for me." I've had my "hay"day and well and truly reaped the goodeness from the field of amusing blogs with alcoholic entendre. It's time get serious and wax lyrical ink on those important issues i.e politics, my love life, depression etc. (coz aint that wot u bloggaz heart.)
I spoke too soon. Yes I did. Because as soon as I was showered and scrubbed like a little button I had that insatiable hunger. GOOOON!
There was still remnant dregs in a silver pillow that was long scoffed at and tsked upon and I (ever representer I am) was not one to say no. So with the help of Sou I squeezed the life of the poor weezin' Ed. I caressed the colour, that second placed Commonwealth atheletes dread. And O, "The spark in me flickered/ I saw heaven and hell/ and rode my Harley into the river." - The Great Lost Bruce Springsteen Song.
So anyways I felt pretty good as our merry pent set sail for the Empress. There was me and Sou and Ro and Caro and Baron (to my dissapointment Pete was nowhere to be seen (probably spent, the poor lad.)) We waltzed down Nicholson ess tee and in to the venue that'd test our collective wit. Some drinks were got in. We all sat in fear.
Mr Scottish MC squared up casual like, with all the charisma of your Ridges or Barbers. The first round was on. The questions fired like bullets. We ducked and dodged and answered the best we could. Question 2 was a bit of a sore point, I will not say nowt (for fear of retribution) but cracks began to appear in the team spirit. "Miami! Florida! or was it California?" O well. At the end of the round we were pipping at the post, only two behind the leaders.
Boom Ya, and back for round 2... The 30 seconds sound bites flew and so did good ol' Sou. Picking gems left right and centre, boys names popped into her head. At rounds end we were up by a fair few. Sou had curbed her enthusiasm (shouting out the answers) and we were in good form coming into the third.
Scottish MC's prick with ears assistant took over. The theme was fire. And with no ego I can honestly say... we were on it. He went through the motions and without fail we pantsed 'em all! The St. Elmo's fire theme song question could've been our downfall! But we felt pretty good, quietly confident you could say.
As the votes were tallied something strange occured.
The two hosts requested a rep from each team, being the dafty who'd necked too much beer of course it was me. The challenge was to bust a move, to the Godfather of soul no less. I watched a braided bearded beater and a flanny clad piss head spin lacklustre routines and stepped up to the mike with the greatest of ease. I chanelled the spirit of my old mate Zacca and busted out some OWWWWWWs and UHHHHHHHHs worthy of James Brown himself. Apparently I busted out the crowd favourite "dick on string" manouvere but on my life that may be false. Whatever the case. If Suzie'd dropped a baby girl tonight, I'd've named her Rock and Roll. I was a jumpsuit clad, cape wearing, split performing GOD. For heavens sake I even attempted "The Worm"!!!
So I scored the jug and our team "The Goon Doggs" scored the carton. A good result all in all.
Peace out for now and in your face Eric Crapton.
I spoke too soon. Yes I did. Because as soon as I was showered and scrubbed like a little button I had that insatiable hunger. GOOOON!
There was still remnant dregs in a silver pillow that was long scoffed at and tsked upon and I (ever representer I am) was not one to say no. So with the help of Sou I squeezed the life of the poor weezin' Ed. I caressed the colour, that second placed Commonwealth atheletes dread. And O, "The spark in me flickered/ I saw heaven and hell/ and rode my Harley into the river." - The Great Lost Bruce Springsteen Song.
So anyways I felt pretty good as our merry pent set sail for the Empress. There was me and Sou and Ro and Caro and Baron (to my dissapointment Pete was nowhere to be seen (probably spent, the poor lad.)) We waltzed down Nicholson ess tee and in to the venue that'd test our collective wit. Some drinks were got in. We all sat in fear.
Mr Scottish MC squared up casual like, with all the charisma of your Ridges or Barbers. The first round was on. The questions fired like bullets. We ducked and dodged and answered the best we could. Question 2 was a bit of a sore point, I will not say nowt (for fear of retribution) but cracks began to appear in the team spirit. "Miami! Florida! or was it California?" O well. At the end of the round we were pipping at the post, only two behind the leaders.
Boom Ya, and back for round 2... The 30 seconds sound bites flew and so did good ol' Sou. Picking gems left right and centre, boys names popped into her head. At rounds end we were up by a fair few. Sou had curbed her enthusiasm (shouting out the answers) and we were in good form coming into the third.
Scottish MC's prick with ears assistant took over. The theme was fire. And with no ego I can honestly say... we were on it. He went through the motions and without fail we pantsed 'em all! The St. Elmo's fire theme song question could've been our downfall! But we felt pretty good, quietly confident you could say.
As the votes were tallied something strange occured.
The two hosts requested a rep from each team, being the dafty who'd necked too much beer of course it was me. The challenge was to bust a move, to the Godfather of soul no less. I watched a braided bearded beater and a flanny clad piss head spin lacklustre routines and stepped up to the mike with the greatest of ease. I chanelled the spirit of my old mate Zacca and busted out some OWWWWWWs and UHHHHHHHHs worthy of James Brown himself. Apparently I busted out the crowd favourite "dick on string" manouvere but on my life that may be false. Whatever the case. If Suzie'd dropped a baby girl tonight, I'd've named her Rock and Roll. I was a jumpsuit clad, cape wearing, split performing GOD. For heavens sake I even attempted "The Worm"!!!
So I scored the jug and our team "The Goon Doggs" scored the carton. A good result all in all.
Peace out for now and in your face Eric Crapton.
3 Comments:
the blog in review. suze loved:
the melodrama of the goon; numerous creative drunken spellings of 'goodness'(writing a blog when you're still tanked is an admirable, if fraught, undertaking); 'the great long lost springsteen song'; pete being 'spent'; the 'prick with ears'AND the memory of chrissy's mic busting and break dancing in the face of the braided beard and the friendly santa man. all i have to add is HHHHHHHHOTTTT DAAAAAAAAAMN TAMMMMMALE!!!!!!!!!!!
We whipped arse. We whipped it good.
Not sure, that George would like to be known as the "prick with ears", tis a bit harsh.
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