Tuesday, 4 May 2010
My Thumbs Hurt...
This fine and slightly arbitrary Bank Holiday weekend (I mean, who celebrates Roodmas anymore?) I went away to my home town of Nottingham and hung out with a true comrade and brother, the legend that is Kirky.
Kirky is of course the man behind the moniker inspiration for my comedy creation, which is currently a work in progress with the BBC. Thankfully, I have not stolen any of the real Kirky's other traits for my character because, quite frankly, being a great host, a seriously brilliant cook, handsome and a pragmatic Pro Evolution Soccer defence lord are not very funny.
Having said that, he does seem to bring out the comedy character in me and after the creation of the eternal legend that is Yannis, we also developed a strange Jewish accountant (currently nameless, so any suggestions much appreciated) whose catchphrase was:
"Now when I say a woman, I actually mean a man."
Which may not seem much on paper but after three bottles of red wine and a bottle of sherry, it is both the scariest and funnest thing since Noel Edmonds' hair.
We basically hung out, chatted in a manly way, ate fine food and played Pro Evo for two days straight, hence why my left thumb is a bruised mound of stubby flesh and I have a small blister on my left index finger. My right hand is healing nicely but I swear, I have never played a football game for that long, or with that level of intensity in my entire life but it has born some fine, fine memories.
I mean, who could forget the 11-0 over two legs drubbing that Lille OSC meted out to UD Alemeria, or the tight clash that followed (winner stays on) where Lille edged out FC Porto and the fall of Lille by a team that I can't remember as I was drunk?
Dour clashed between Boltan Wanderers and Benfica were interspersed with acts of giant killing, as Sparta Rotterdam edged out Ajax in an all Dutch classic. All good stuff until Newcastle United came along that is...
What happened is, whenever you lost, you get another team to play with at random, Kirky was Barcelona I believe and doing well with them as they are awesome and I went and got Newcastle, so obviously I was going to lose as Newcastle are a little bit shit...but no, I won 6-1 over two legs. 6-1! Shocking stuff.
I thought this was down to my skill and, heavily drunk, I also beat Kirky's England by a similar margin. We went to bed happy but very confused. Sunday rolled around and we pressed on and after an abortive effort at the Konami Cup, renamed the Carlton Cup and won by Liverpool who edged out my Celtic 1-0, we went back to random. All was going well, until Kirky got Newcastle, who then I could not beat with any team I was blessed with, for the fucking life of me.
I got mardy. Very mardy. It seemed the Gods were against me and constant defeats at the hands of an unbeatable team were killing my life force and enthusiasm for the game. Eager to carry on kicking my ass, Kirky suggested that he drop the unbeatable Shay Given and put an idiot in goal: I lost 3-1 but at least I scored, something that my AS Roma team and 23 shots over two-legs had failed to do. Then he offered that I could have any team, so I took on Milan, one of the very best and without Given and his two other best players (injury took out Duff and Kirky having swollen thumbs nad making a user error ruled out Martins) meant I won 4-2.
The Newcastle dragon was slain but it was a pyrrhic victory, brightened only when, with a full strength team, I pipped those bastard Geordies 1-0.
It was an empty and cold victory which took the shine off a fine series of battles which I would definitely want to repeat but with one rule, no one can be Newcastle United...