Whitebootman
Player Valuation: £35m
As a change from transfer rumours, fake sheiks, and stadium moves I offer for your entertainment a tale of three silly old sod’s who, like their waistlines, will never see 38 again.
I was pottering around in the garden yesterday afternoon when I heard a crash and a stream of industrial language coming from the pavement at the back of Whitebootman Lodge. Being the good samaritan I went out to check nobody was hurt. A cyclist had ducked under low branches on Silly Old Fool Next Door’s tree, and fell off his bike. When the cyclist stood up I almost started laughing straight away. Lance Haystacks, dressed in cycling shorts and shirt, stood up to reveal half a stone of hairy white flesh between shorts and shirt and a mop of white hair sticking out of his crash helmet starts to give me a stream of abuse about the tree. I stopped him long enough to tell him the tree belonged to Silly Old Fool Next Door, and watched as Lance Haystacks made for his front door.
Silly Old Fool Next Door came out, took one look at Lance Haystacks and said “Sorry mate I don’t need any.” Lance Haystacks, caught off balance replied “What.” To which my man next door said “Onions.” At this point I lost all self-control and started laughing.
Lance Haystacks then just started to make the situation worse, explaining what had happened to Silly Old Fool Next Door and when asked why he was using the pavement and not the service road the other side of the main road he answered that there were too many speed bumps, which slowed him down. Silly Old Fool Next Door then joined me laughing and Lance Haystacks rode off with a few parting insults.
I said to Silly Old Fool Next Door that he should get his tree trimmed before someone really got hurt, and offered to help. You do the low branches and I’ll get the higher ones I offered. We set about it straight away.
I was just getting the last branch, it swung down towards me and I ducked out of the way. The branch passed to my left, the ladder moved to my right and your correspondent ended up in an untidy heap where Silly Old Fool Next Doors garden fence once stood. Silly Old Fool Next Door was peeing himself laughing, serves me right I suppose. I stood up and checked the damage, cuts to arm, leg, and back but not too bad. I started to push the fence back into position. Silly Old Fool Next Door stopped laughing long enough to start to give me a hand, tripped over the pile of branches he had made and somehow lost his glasses and his upper set of false teeth.
So there we were, me looking like an extra from Shaun Of The Dead, Silly Old fool Next Door with his glasses in one hand and his teeth in the other hand both with tears in our eyes laughing.
So who gets the last laugh? I hope sometime Lance Haystacks gets to hear our sorry tale, he did nothing wrong really and deserves a laugh at our expense.
I was pottering around in the garden yesterday afternoon when I heard a crash and a stream of industrial language coming from the pavement at the back of Whitebootman Lodge. Being the good samaritan I went out to check nobody was hurt. A cyclist had ducked under low branches on Silly Old Fool Next Door’s tree, and fell off his bike. When the cyclist stood up I almost started laughing straight away. Lance Haystacks, dressed in cycling shorts and shirt, stood up to reveal half a stone of hairy white flesh between shorts and shirt and a mop of white hair sticking out of his crash helmet starts to give me a stream of abuse about the tree. I stopped him long enough to tell him the tree belonged to Silly Old Fool Next Door, and watched as Lance Haystacks made for his front door.
Silly Old Fool Next Door came out, took one look at Lance Haystacks and said “Sorry mate I don’t need any.” Lance Haystacks, caught off balance replied “What.” To which my man next door said “Onions.” At this point I lost all self-control and started laughing.
Lance Haystacks then just started to make the situation worse, explaining what had happened to Silly Old Fool Next Door and when asked why he was using the pavement and not the service road the other side of the main road he answered that there were too many speed bumps, which slowed him down. Silly Old Fool Next Door then joined me laughing and Lance Haystacks rode off with a few parting insults.
I said to Silly Old Fool Next Door that he should get his tree trimmed before someone really got hurt, and offered to help. You do the low branches and I’ll get the higher ones I offered. We set about it straight away.
I was just getting the last branch, it swung down towards me and I ducked out of the way. The branch passed to my left, the ladder moved to my right and your correspondent ended up in an untidy heap where Silly Old Fool Next Doors garden fence once stood. Silly Old Fool Next Door was peeing himself laughing, serves me right I suppose. I stood up and checked the damage, cuts to arm, leg, and back but not too bad. I started to push the fence back into position. Silly Old Fool Next Door stopped laughing long enough to start to give me a hand, tripped over the pile of branches he had made and somehow lost his glasses and his upper set of false teeth.
So there we were, me looking like an extra from Shaun Of The Dead, Silly Old fool Next Door with his glasses in one hand and his teeth in the other hand both with tears in our eyes laughing.
So who gets the last laugh? I hope sometime Lance Haystacks gets to hear our sorry tale, he did nothing wrong really and deserves a laugh at our expense.
Life's a riot!
