Mon 28 Apr 2008
The smell of the fresh-cut grass; the ‘clunk’ of the colliding woods; the gentle and friendly handshakes at the end…
I have looked forward to this moment all winter. Things have gone a bit tits up with various professional stuff recently, and I have been a bit stressed out an’ stuff, and there is nothing quite like a relaxing game of bowls to ease one’s mind back into the pleasures of the English countryside.
“And so I started chasing… well I sort of went after him,” I explain later to the Police Sergeant, choosing my words carefully. He glances at his Constable for support. “I have to say I was pretty pumped up.”
Big A nods in agreement. “That’s when we rang you.”
The Police Sergeant alternately shakes his head and shrugs. “I can only apologise we weren’t there sooner,” he offers. “If we’d have got the message from Control…”
Nobody asks me what I was planning to do if I’d have caught the chap. I cast a nervous eye at my bag, which contains four very heavy bowls woods.
No official action is taken.
April 28th, 2008 at 2:56 pm
“Pumped up” or “plumped up”, Jonny? No wonder your mystery miscreant made tracks, seeing Mr Blobby lumbering after him with his swaying sack of balls. Can’t help feeling you might be compensating for something there, my boy…
April 28th, 2008 at 3:17 pm
You aren’t a bad loser Jonny? Surely not!
April 28th, 2008 at 3:41 pm
“…there is nothing quite like a relaxing game of bowls to ease one’s mind back into the pleasures of the English countryside.
“And so I started chasing… well I sort of went after him,” ”
Am I only getting the expurgated highlights here in Ambridge?? There appears to a “sequitur” defficiency in those two sentences. Do tell?
April 28th, 2008 at 4:45 pm
The game of bowls being, obviously, a cultural metaphor dating back to ancient day when one’s vanquished foes were beheaded, shrunk and were tossed about in a game that took the place of real battles – sort of a cross between conkers and marbles – where the winner won the spoils without actually fighting. Erm. Ahmmm. Allegedly.
April 28th, 2008 at 5:40 pm
Thank god for the title. From the first sentence I thought for a moment you’d taken up morris dancing.
April 28th, 2008 at 5:49 pm
Editor of Mail on Sunday found battered to death by bowling ball?
Very Freudian.
April 28th, 2008 at 6:47 pm
*boggle*
we rely on you, Jonny, please don’t get banged up inside .. you might not be able to post.
April 28th, 2008 at 6:59 pm
Yo got a Police Sergeant to you! And he apologised!!! (Albeit about their controlers). You must of done/had done somthing really minor. Police Sergeants dont usually deal with big stuff.
Was he driving on his own(lost)or just happend to be with a nice new female college out in the middle of nowhere?
April 28th, 2008 at 8:18 pm
…I always presumed you to be quite a docile chap, actually…
April 28th, 2008 at 10:24 pm
Somebody pinched the jack. I’m right aren’t I?
April 28th, 2008 at 10:58 pm
Johnny, exclamations points of the end of your titles are a nice try to make this blog interesting again, but I don’t think it is enough. You might ask your erudite readers for suggestions…
April 29th, 2008 at 6:19 am
Oooh, get that april, meeeow. This is one of the most erudite blogs that exists, I’ve learned more about chickens than I did at school, that’s for sure. My blog’s much more boring. Keep it coming!
April 29th, 2008 at 9:29 am
Lola,
As much as i love this blog, you can’t thank Jonny for his knowledge on chickens. I am now more confused than ever on the whole can they/can’t they saga of flight.
Crime. In the country. What gives??
April 29th, 2008 at 11:12 am
At least your long-dormant muscles will be in better shape for the next round of bowls.
Nothing tones the legs better than an unexpected call to arms.
April 29th, 2008 at 12:07 pm
I’m in a state of shock that someone who plays bowls is able to run. Not one to adhere to stereotypes but I live in a town where bowls is a major past time (they hold some sort of championship here every year and I think there was a version of a world cup a couple of years ago), not one of the bowls players I have come across is able to walk at more than a crawl let alone run. Are you sure you weren’t just walking a little fast?
April 29th, 2008 at 12:19 pm
Where else could you mix a game of bowls with a reconstruction of an episode of The Sweeney?
April 29th, 2008 at 3:24 pm
sarah p
i think you live in the same south coast town as me! if you do then you’ll know that they also clog up the egremont and the seafront
April 29th, 2008 at 3:33 pm
Hullo gently steaming yak and welcome. It has become much more fun on the blogs since all the normal names were taken.
April 29th, 2008 at 3:49 pm
gently steaming yak I live in the midlands I’m going to hide under the covers as it would seem not even the sea side is safe from the bowls madness. I may have to emmigrate, shame I always liked the sausages in the UK.
April 29th, 2008 at 5:27 pm
Duncan: please don’t mention chickens – un oeuf is un oeuf!
God that’s a relief. I’m cackling with glee.
April 29th, 2008 at 5:42 pm
not the same place at all then sarahp! i live in worthing which has a higher than necessary number of doddering old gimmers at the best of times, when the bowlers come to town for the tournament its like a (slightly more literal) remake of night of the living dead!
April 29th, 2008 at 6:08 pm
Incidentally, I guess that if Big A spotted you in the newspaper, this means your friends now know all about the blog?
What was their reaction?
April 29th, 2008 at 7:38 pm
Crime fighting capers eh?
….Johnny ‘Herr Cool Bi-ro’ strikes!
April 30th, 2008 at 10:27 am
Pat, that was a terrible yolk!
Oooh! yes, Jonny – what Eddie said! Do tell.
April 30th, 2008 at 12:59 pm
I think you’ll find the chicken jokes were eggshausted some time ago
April 30th, 2008 at 1:10 pm
Next you’ll be telling us that bowls isn’t the preserve of the tea-sipping grey brigade – and thatit’s an exciting, action-packed sport full of incident and intrigue that appeals to people of all ages.
As if…
April 30th, 2008 at 3:59 pm
Gumpher are you insinuating that mine wasn’t entirely original? If you have a short term memory loss – or any term memory loss it IS original. Er…what was the question?
April 30th, 2008 at 6:24 pm
Can’t see the wood for the thieves?
So, did something run off with Jack?
I thought for a moment the title read…’The bowels season begins!!!’ Thank the Lord I read that again. I might have had to bring you to task under the copyright laws.
April 30th, 2008 at 6:42 pm
VERY upset that I spend ONE DAY away from the computer and CHICKEN RELATED PUNS have started to appear. CHICKEN PUNS (especially the ‘egg for ex’ transposition) are the LOWEST OF THE LOW and will never be wecome on this SERIOUS CHICKEN RELATED INTERNET DIARY.
Oh well… a couple of friends read the PSD. It’s P rather than S – just because it’s more enjoyable that way for all sorts of reasons. You don’t need to worry about people misunderstanding you, an’ all that. The chickens, however, do not read, and I live in constant fear of being ‘outed’ to them.
April 30th, 2008 at 8:27 pm
It’s P rather than S?
It is D though right?
Is there some sort of coup being broiled up by the Village Football Team? No doubt you’ll be in the Sven house again.
May 1st, 2008 at 3:07 am
What’s wrong with chicken puns? They’re not foul.
Naga, for a second I thought I’d read ‘coop’.
May 1st, 2008 at 2:54 pm
Poo, when are you going to write some more about chooks?
Have you put a mirror in their run – recommended – I happened to have one from the inside of an old wardrobe door which is now fastened along the bottom of one side of the run. The chooks spend ages titivating in front of it.