Three days ago, I was sitting in my room, internet on, looking rather bored. I’m 22 and male, and need things to do otherwise I’d get bored. When I’m bored, I’m dangerous, no two ways about it. As such, I’ve learned to keep myself occupied. I suggested to Rick that we go for a kickabout. He was up for it, but there was one huge problem.
We didn’t have a ball.
It was written in the bible somewhere “a man who is devoid of balls, is barely a man at all”, and I’m not “barely a man”. Oh no, I’m going to put this right, thanks to eBay. After a quick search, I found this ball – which was quite cheap, full size, and not going to fall apart at the first opportunity.
I bought it on thursday, and was praying that the Royal Mail got their arse in gear and it’d be here yesterday. No joy. Ah well, Saturday it is.
I was dreaming about – for some reason – watching a film which was a hybrid between Monty Python and The Wicker Man filmed in Llandudno, when the door knocked. Immediately Bonnie jumped up and started yelling at the door. Reluctantly (it was half 7 for pete’s sake) I got up, put on my dressing gown and got up.
I trudged downstairs, opened the door and it was my football, curteosy of Royal Mail. They’re brill, aren’t they. Also, nice guy on ebay sent it recorded delivery, so I got the form to sign, and signed it.
However, Bonnie at this time was getting more and more excitable, and was jumping up, grabing parts of my dressing gown with her teeth. To gain my attention, she faced me straight on, jumped up, and managed to grab hold of my boxers, and pulled them down.
I’ll be honest, I think I managed to conceal my shame. I’m not some guy who randomly flashes people, I’m a good man, I just had a dog/wardrobe malfunction. Think the postie didn’t see anything (thank god), but I’m sure he’s seen worse.
Anyway, I now have a football. I am a man.