DE BUGGING

 

There was an incident that occurred one Sunday morning in 2005 in Worthing Sussex.

It was during a Sunday morning football match between two potbellied pub teams made up of the usual mix of the overweight, the out of shape and the out of breath.

Five minutes before the interval while everyone’s attention was focused on one end of the pitch a man on a disabled vehicle trundled his way to the center circled where he parked.

He was instantly surrounded by irate players from both teams, when I say instantly it was as soon as the players could get there, and they may not have been irate at all they may just have overexerted themselves running half the length of the pitch.

The referee tried to calm the situation and decided to blow for half time early in order to defuse things.

The match officials questioned the man as to the nature of his protest and it turned out that he was fed up with players and spectators parking on and blocking the cycle path which was his access through the park.

The referee was sympathetic but explained he could do nothing about it and five minutes later the disabled gentleman was escorted from the pitch.

Fortunately, there were no further incidents in the second half and sadly there was no football either. 

OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE

 

I have been a keen sports fan for many years

As my father was before me

But something has always puzzled us

And is in the back of our mind’s constantly

When it comes to the boat race final every year

Why is it the same two teams we always see

CHELSKI

 

Chelsea have won another match

They beat city two goals to one

They were a goal down though

Before they got the job done

Joe Cole scored the equalizer

Shot form twenty yards or more

It took one or two deflections

On the way, well actually it was four

 

Then Frank Lampard struck

From well outside the box

Wrong footing the keeper

After hitting the full backs buttocks

The ball deflected past the keeper

It hit both posts and the bar

Would it go in no one could see

Until it hit the head of the referee

YOU’LL LIKE THIS

Something that may get you in a fix

Is demonstrating fancy card tricks

For more than one serious gambler

Just before you’re about to play poker

PATHLETICS

I hate most track athletes
But sprinters really get my goat
The fastest men on earth they claim
As they strut and preen and gloat
Running very fast in a straight line
Small beer for such a big ego
And they excel for less than ten seconds
Duration unimpressive to my wife I know
On they African plains they’d fail to impress
I can say that without being rude
In the eyes of a hunting lioness
They would be little more than fast food

TO DRY GREENHOFF’S TEAR’S

 

1976, in May

Doc’s red army

Witnessed the young guns

Fail at Wembley

To that iffy goal

Scored by bobby stokes

When Coppell hill and co

Failed to beat McMenemy’s men

A motley crew

Of has-beens and nobody’s

The sick, the lame and the lazy

Won the day

2005, in May

The red army

Witnessed Fergie’s men

At St Mary’s

By two goals to one

Relegate them

To the championship

The old division two

Almost thirty years

The saints were a thorn in United’s flesh

Finally, the ghost of 76

Has been well and truly laid

NICE ONE HENRY # 2

 

FIFA are on a mission

Disrespect for refs they want to defeat

An admirable ambition indeed

But first they need to stamp out cheats

Its spread from normal quarters

To Thierry Henry who to his ignominy

Handled the ball to keep it in play

An offence done quite deliberately

Which was compounded by his lie,

That it happened accidentally

BRITISH BULLDOG

Diego Maradonna

He of the infamous

Hand of God

Has been savaged

By his new pet

The hound of God

BETTER TO BE DEAD THAN RED

 

The Liverpool supporters

Singing from the cop

Urge me to join them

On and on they never stop

 

“You’ll never walk alone”

Is the anthem they sing

It’s gone on for years now

With that tinny scouser ring

 

Well, I’m from Blackpool

And of more sober tone

Which is why I say to the cop

That I’d rather walk alone

WHO’S THE WANKER IN THE BLACK?

 

The song of the supporter’s pack

“Who’s the wanker in the black?”

That was the chant

But no longer, for you can’t

Disrespect the referee

For a man such as he

Is to be protected

And respected

And no one must speak ill

Even if forced to swallow the bitter pill

Of un-just officialdom

Which is NOT seldom

No manager may mutter

Query or utter

Discontent in the ref’s direction

For to commit such an indiscretion

Will see them had up before the FA

Where a fine must be paid

And be sentenced to a touchline ban

For insulting the black clad man

But why should they be protected

And forcibly respected

They are a professional group

And well salaried to boot

They no longer officiate

In their amateur state

Low-tech refereeing

A hobby to be fitted in

Attending the scene of their crime

In their spare time

With no remuneration

For their dedication

No “bread and honey”

Just enough for petrol money

If lucky luncheon vouchers maybe

For a cup of tea

And a pie to warm the soul

Before disallowing a perfectly good goal

It was much better then

With those amateur men

And be able to say to their faces

That they were bloody disgraces

I don’t think we have progressed

Now we have professional refs

They now think themselves important

And no longer want to hear the chant

But I still want to sing with the pack

“Who’s the wanker in the black?”

IN OR OUT OF SYNCH

 

If a synchronized swimmer

Were to drown

Would the rest of the team

Also go down?

21st CENTURY NURSERY RHYMES # 290

 

Robin and Richard were two pretty men,

They laid in bed till the clock struck ten;

Then up starts Robin and looks at the sky:

"Oh, sod it Richard, the sun's very high!

Stop sniggering and pull on your knickers

We’re late for training at Twickers”

RAMBLING

I met a guy from the ramblers today

I think his name was John

He was a harmless bloke I suppose

But he just went on and on

WYNNE OR NO

 

Do you know who invented the crossword?

I can't remember his name for the life of me

It’s on the tip of my tongue just out of reach

It’s W something N something E

FOOTBALL

 

There are many differences

Between Rugby and football

Rules, number of players, ball shape

Goal posts, pitch markings, duration

And so on and so forth

It was once said that football

Is a gentleman’s game played by ruffian’s

And Rugby a ruffian’s game played by gentleman

Not quite as true as it used to be

But still not far off the mark

I’ve even heard it said

That Football is played by children

And Rugby by grownups

But for me the difference

Can best be defined in this way

A Footballer spends 90 minutes

Pretending to be injured

While a Rugby player spends 80 minutes

Pretending that he is not

MUMMY’S BOYS

 

I long since came to terms

Since John Barnes set the trend

With footballers wearing gloves

To keep their little pandies warm

I am less understanding

Of players taking to the field

With tights beneath their shorts

But it seems I must accept it

But the line has to be drawn somewhere

And that line was crossed

This very weekend

I was shocked beyond belief

To see a player, take to the field of play

Wearing a muffler about his neck

ALL IN THE GAME

 

Shaven headed barbarians

And tattooed savages

Strut with preening peacocks

In performing their pantomime

While their vengeful tribes

With banners held high

Chant their rhythmic cacophony

Faces distorted with hate

 

On the field of honour

They grapple and kick

They push and pull

They dive and roll

Assault and assail

Connive and cheat

 

In unforgiving onslaughts

They perform for baying hordes

A vile and brutal spectacle

Always referred to

As the beautiful game

HUNTIN’ SHOOTIN’ AND TIPPIN’

There was a craze not long ago

A kind of country pursuit

A sport known as cow tipping

Perpetrated by callow youth

  

Now due to the recession

There is a new craze to report

A rural epidemic, fly tipping

It’s popular but not much of a sport

THE NATURAL

 

As a footballer I must confess

My skills locker is somewhat bereft

I am a naturally two footed player

But unfortunately, both of them are left

WHO KILLED THE PINBALL WIZARD?

The Pinball wizard is dead

That deaf dumb and blind kid

Was shot dead by a stranger

It was such a senseless murder

IT’S NOT OVER

We left the stadium after awhile

Exiting though the open turnstile

To find, inappropriately clad in licra

And standing on top of a Micra,

A very fat woman singing opera

From on top of that poor little car

When I heard a laugh from my lad

Who then said “It’s all over then Dad”

GO FISH AGAIN

 

The worst day

You spend fishing

Is better than

Your best day working

SUBTLE DIFFERENCE

 

There is a subtle difference

Between “Put” and “Putt”

In meaning as well as spelling

I will attempt to elucidate

Their subtle difference

Clearly in the telling

 

“Put” means to place something

Where you ultimately want it

“Putt” is an unrealistic attempt

To do the same with the ball you hit

THE CHARACTER OF GOLF

 

The game of Golf is character building

In the view of certain people

Others are a little more grounded

And would describe it as a perpetual

Series of unmitigated disasters

Punctuated by an occasional miracle

THE GRAND NATIONAL

 

Jockeys in bright coloured racing silk

Representing owners of every ilk

The horses fidget with ears pricked

Punter’s shout for the horse they picked

Ready for the off the tension mounts

A lot of money bet on turf accounts

They’re at the start now all in a line

The starter waits till all is fine

And they’re off, and the horses surge

Moving en mass like a cavalry charge

 

Powerful beasts of chestnut and grey
Doing battle on Grand National day
Hooves thunder hard past the rail
Who will win the race who will prevail

 

On they go riding at a steady rate

Five fences in the opening straight

Then the big one Becher’s Brook

Some don’t fancy it when they take a look

Then the Foinavon fence before Canal Turn

Valentines is then the next big concern

Three more fences and the field is thinning

Across the Melling Road and turning

Over two more fences before the Chair

Then the water jump, and halfway there

 

Powerful beasts of chestnut and grey
Doing battle on Grand National day
Hooves thunder hard past the rail
Who will win the race who will prevail

 

The crowd cheers loudly those who remain

As the magnificent beasts go around again

Along the straight five fences once more

Then Becher’s Brook counts its score

Beneath them the ground seems to quake

The leaders leaving fallers in their wake

Then the Foinavon fence before Canal Turn

Valentines is once again the big concern

Three more fences and the field is thinning

Across the Melling Road and turning

 

Powerful beasts of chestnut and grey
Doing battle on Grand National day
Hooves thunder hard past the rail
Who will win the race who will prevail

 

Two more fences and the volume gets loud

Almost home to the delight of the crowd

Jump the last fence and land ahead

Keep your wits about you, keep your head

The finishing straight the end in sight

Across the finish line to the crowds delight

For the winner at the end of the road

The great sporting accolade is bestowed

A spectacle on an afternoon well spent

For those who witness the great event

SEXLESS

 

Women body builders
Think they look fab
All muscular
And not an inch of flab
With feminine parts
Under triangular tabs
Unfortunately you couldn’t
Sex them in a lab

UP AND OVER

 

Nudists whilst staying in the camp

Must never, even if tempted

When playing games of leapfrog

Fail to complete all jumps attempted

MARADONNA

“A genius footballer” bloody cheek

He looks more like a circus freak

He’s nothing more than a Latin cheat

Who’s certainly had too much to eat

MACBETH ON THE OCHEY

Single, double, bull and treble  

Straight in, and finish on a double

First off ninety-eight

In the contest a lead we take     

One hundred and eighty next                    

Down to earth then with twenty-six

Better next throw back on track

Seventy-two and seventy-six

Forty-nine to go nineteen first

Then a miss, then in the double

HAND OF GOD

 

It was in Mexico in nineteen eighty-six

When English hearts sank to the floor

When England were to meet Argentina

In the world cup quarterfinal draw

 

On that infamous night it occurred

The event that made the spectators roar

Diego Maradonna their great player

Had to use his hand to help them score

 

The English players protested in vain

That Maradonna had used his hand

Amazingly the referee gave the goal

Something that I still don’t understand

 

There was much discussion with the pundits

The video replay confirmed the cheating

Ironically his second goal was brilliant

And sealed the result of our defeating

 

Maradonna used a hand to help him score

But Diego claimed it was the hand of god

Argentina believes he is a national hero

The English all know he’s a cheating sod

BOTLEY BILLY

 

Billy Casey is the Botley United F.C. team captain

He’s just bettered his club scoring record again

In ninety matches he’s now scored twenty-three

He’s second highest scorer now just behind o.g

WINNING HAND

When you’re playing poker

I think it’s true in all cases

That a Smith and Wesson

Will always beat four aces

FORFAR 5 EAST FIFE 4

 

My boy has just got into football

Which is a very good thing after all

His choice of team worries me though

As he’s chosen Charlton Athletico

I don’t want to put him off football

But it’s not Charlton Athletico at all

He may find the truth a bitter pill

As it’s really Charlton Athletic nil