Eleven fours. A football team of four year olds.
"Joshua! Joshua! Get your arse back! Go on, Jordan! Go on, my son! Oh, yes! The vision of that boy! Back door, James! BACK DOOR! Man on, Daniel! Give it, Thomas! Not James! Joshua, you lazy, fat...Get your arse in gear! Go on, Jordan! Go on, my son! Go on, Jordan! You little genius! You beautiful boy! Oh, yes! What a goal! WHAT A GOAL!...What? Foul? Foul? What foul? Referee? You wanker, referee! You fucking wanker! Don't you fucking book my boy! Don't you fucking dare!"
Eleven fours. And I'm still getting cards with footballers on the front. And trains. No racing cars this year, though. That was last year. I've never been that bothered about trains and cars. They get me from A to B. And B to A.
* * * * * * *
I sit in my office lightly tapping the keys of my calculator, organising my days in my desk diary. I look forward to going home to play with my birthday presents...
1. My new pocket calculator.
2. My new pocket diary.
The Getaway
1 day ago
Happy Birthday.
ReplyDeleteI love birthdays, me. Despite the fact that I am no longer seven, I still believe that everybody has to do as I say on my birthday. It's only fair.
Thank you, KC.
ReplyDeleteI'm home at last.
Time for a celebratory glass, I think.
Happy Birthday, Geoff. I raise a glass in your general direction. And thank you for the telly blog and the dream blog. Always entertaining.
ReplyDeleteCheers, MJ.
ReplyDeleteIt's the day after my birthday and I feel very tired indeed.
How old am I?
And I should have said the 'ordinary' blog...not the 'telly' blog. Okay, the ordinary blog formerly known as the telly blog. Whatever it calls itself, I'm enjoying it.
ReplyDeleteHappy birthday for the day before yesterday, Geoff. Guess I'm going to have to change my links again now.
ReplyDeleteHB Geoff. From one old bugger to another!
ReplyDeleteThank you kindly.
ReplyDeleteI'm the worst kind of attention seeker, aren't I?
Happy 44th!
ReplyDeleteI'll be 41 in February. Mentally I'm still 10, though!
But my back feels 100.