Monday 25 May 2009

Resistance is futile

Rules for 2009/2010

Rich Allan and Kristian Hewitt have devised some rules that will come into play this coming season for players of Burridge Indigestibles.

Match fees

Players have option of paying £50 match fees up front which will cover all competitive games of 2009/2010.

The £50 must be paid by Saturday September 5th.

That £50 does not cover pre-season fixtures, training fees or suspensions.

Players who don't wish to pay up front will pay their weekly fee as usual.

Greg Baker's master of the art of disguise will not stop him being fined. And it won't stop you either.

Fines

Players must.....

Arrive one hour before kick off. Those who don't will be fined £1.

Must help put nets up or help take them down. Those who don't will be fined £1.

Arrive at the game with clean football boots. Those whose are dirty will be fined £1.

Go down the pub after a game, those who don't will be fined £1.

Wash the kit as punishment for getting booked for dissent.


And the controversial new rule

Players who have £20 of money outstanding to the club cannot play 'til that's been paid in full.

Wednesday 20 May 2009

Your chance to re-christen Burridge

The name Burridge really doesn't cut the mustard. Not on its own. It's missing something that merely adding United or Athletic to the end will not make a happy marriage. We need something far more radical. Europe is packed full of exotic team names, like: Borussia Monchengladbach and Go Ahead Eagles.

Danny Baker's BBC show has been inviting fans to give their lonely one word teams a second name. So plain old Burnley are now 'Burnley Supernova.'

The only name I've thought up is, 'F*cking Burridge.'

So if I was blogging about a result it'd be F*cking Burridge 2 - 0 Dukla Prague.

So, this is your opportunity to re-christen Burridge.

All suggestions will be chewed over by me. The only stipulation is that Burridge must remain in the name.

Sunday 17 May 2009

Lessons in life

If at all possible try and avoid being tossed off in front of your mate's dad

I got a parking ticket on Friday for leaving the motor on a single yellow line. It was 8:08am and I was bang to rights so I stumped up the £35 fine when it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't done anything stupid for a quite a long while, whereas I used to have a habit of doing stupid things all the time.



Slip of the tongue

I really hadn't planned on being sick on her. Drinking a pint of what tasted to me like Domestos wasn't on my schedule either, but the bar at Schooners was chocka with sausage and I didn't have time to stand around waiting another 20 minutes to be served something that wouldn't be better suited to cleaning toilets, and seeing it was nearly closing time anyway, I drank the bleach. Unsurprisingly, it tasted disgusting. I went over to the foyer, handed the girl at the counter the ticket stub in return for my sheepskin, opened my mouth to thank her, but instead of words, sick came out. Quite a lot of it. Most of it all over her.

Birthday suit

AC Delco were a fine football club to play for. It was with a sense of pride that I pulled on their green and white hooped jersey. So how will I be remembered by the club? For a fine glancing header that put Delcos a goal up against Fleetlands? Or maybe for a swashbuckling performance in a satisfying win over Co-op Sports, down in
darkest enemy country? The answer is neither of those things. AC Delco remember me for one night. One of those dubious fund raising nights when they invite a couple of strippers who behaved like they're on the set of Caligula.

I can't remember how I got caught up in it all. I've just got one of those faces I suppose. Once my clothes went missing and my view of the clubhouse ceiling was replaced by a pair of bare arse cheeks, I knew I was in a spot of bother. For all intensive purposes what the two of them were using on each other was a dildo. The 7:27 to Clapham junction would be a more accurate description. Thankfully, their inflation device failed to stir my old chap. If there's one thing I know it's that if you're given a hand job by some stripper in the club house in front of your mates and their dads, no good will come of it.

Warm waters

Travel gives a man a chance to broaden their horizons, experience new cultures, and understand a different people. Or you can just piss around and get drunk every night like I did in Honduras. Scuba Diving didn't appeal to me, but then anything that required any more responsibility than breathing didn't appeal to much either. Plus I didn't want sharks to bite chunks out of my face. But seeing as I'd come all this way I thought I ought to try something new. Which means a girl bullied me into it by being nice looking.

After several fairly unsuccessful practise dives, we returned to the surface. I'd drunk a significant amount of rum the night before and by now it needed to escape. This girl was struggling and like the decent bloke I am, I helped her to the boat. By this point I could hold it no more and as I held her steady at the boat's hull, released a long hot golden stream over her wet suit. Which shows you shouldn't always blame the Gulf Stream for a warmer Atlantic.

Monday 11 May 2009

They call him the seeker




It was pointed out by Justin Newman's missus, that Burridge's Sam Schwodler is a dead ringer for the Who's Pete Townshend.

What do you reckon?

Monday 4 May 2009

Nice Surprises

How a good man's never down, well I say a good man - okay, yes a good man.

Above: big posh place in the sticks were Rich 'Chinese-Monkey' Allan got married on Sunday.

Rich 'Chinese-Monkey' Allan's wedding day was going exactly according to plan right up until Jay Schwodler's best man speech. The sun was shining, nobody had been in a fight. Not yet. And Greg Baker wasn't trying to have it off with anything with a front bottom. As best man, Jay Schwodler's duty was quite clear. We were all expecting him to give a half arsed speech that nobody could really hear properly and then, as good friends, we were going to let him have it.

the Bride and groom - Adele and Rich

Best man, Jay Schwodler and his missus....pwoar...you would, wouldn't you. She's not bad either.


After the ceremony we sat down to dinner. The father of the bride choked back a tear or two before the groom thanked his beautiful bride and then it was time. Time for the best man. Everybody was ready. We were all tooled up to the nines. Tomatoes, spuds, cauliflowers, even those funny little things that I think are called kiwi fruits. Anything we could use to launch at Jay's nut. Jay stood up, took out a set of cards from his pocket and then shocked the entire audience into complete silence by reading a very good speech. Can't remember exactly what he went on about, but it went down a storm.

Bryn Schwodler and Rich Allan relax.

After all the formalities everybody had a good drink and a good time and then it was gone two in the morning and anyone with half a brain had cleared off home or back to their hotel room. Going home on foot was an option, as long as I didn't mind spending my bank holiday Monday walking for 11 miles. Then I remembered that taxis had been invented and got in one.


Friday 1 May 2009

Make sure you always read the label

And why it tends to pay to wear some form of underwear to work

If at all possible in life you should try to avoid exposing your penis at work. It's certainly a guideline that I had intended on following. Making a nice cup of early morning tea was much higher up on my agenda, but the itch downstairs wouldn't go away without giving it a good old scratch. It was at that precise moment I felt something unusual. Something was missing and that something was trousers.

The suit label said that both the blazer and the trousers were machine washable, just not at a 90 degree wash. Which is a bit like rinsing your granny's dentures with a fireman's hose, when they're still in her mouth. Something had to give, and in this case it was the crotch of my trouser, which had pretty much perished. I went to the shops that night and bought some smart new work clothes, including a suit.

This was partly to convince both myself and my boss that I had what it took to do the sales job I wasn't selling anything in, but mainly to my keep my trouser-mouse safe from harm. The suit I bought that night has worn particularly well in comparison to the old one. The 36 inch chest blazer fits beautifully, and the 31 inch inside leg trousers are nothing if not extremely comfortable.

This is no real indicator that you're better of buying a suit from Moss Bros than Marks and Spark's. Nor is it anything to do with the weaved fabric of the 44% woollen trousers. The real reason that my current suit has worn so well is that I only got to wear it about 16 times before I suddenly and unexpectedly 'resigned' from my position. When I say resigned I mean sacked. My current employers don't require me to wear a shirt and tie, but this Sunday is Rich 'Chinese-Monkey' Allan's wedding, and I'm invited. So I'll get the chance to wear that suit once more.

Above in the blue and black stripes, yours truly and Rich Allan. Picture courtesy of Tuesday October 7th 2003's edition of the Southern Daily Echo.

Wedding etiquette question

1.Jay Schwodler is Rich Allan's best man and by the time he gets to his speech plenty of drink will've been taken by everybody. Jay is a quiet man, and I fear he may receive a far amount of heckling from the crowd.

Should I:

A) Join in the heckling – the stupid bastard deserves it.
B)Try and stop the hecklers – it may have an affect on impressionable girls who might be fooled into thinking that I have some sort of leadership quality.
or C)Let them get on with it.

Looking back (bringing back the blog)

I haven't posted here since 2012 – that’s five years of not blogging. The blog is/was about Burridge AFC, the football team I played f...