Yes folks, its time for another break for the grocer. I'm for a week in rainy Devon to play golf with 30 odd other blokes as The Jolly Boys Outing from my pub is engaged. A week of drinking, letching, golfing, snooker and watching football on Wednesday in the vain hope that Sven Gormless Fuckwit can motivate the players into putting on some sort of half decent performance and pay the Poles back for 1973. I cried that fucking night and my memory is scarred by Jan Tomaczeski, the polish goalkeeper who performed the heroics that fateful evening. As I write this I learn that we have qualified to play in the World Cup Finals next year despite today's abject display against Austria. If Peter Crouch is the future for England then God help us. He is the worst player I've seen in an England shirt ever. And I include Emile Donkey Heskey in that as well. Crouch is like a spider on rollerskates, not a footballer.
Anyway, the knick knacks won today as well to keep their hopes barely alive of qualifying. I'm half Irish myself (thanks to Mommie Dearest) so I do have vested interest in the Paddies getting there as well. I've always thought that's why my favourite tipple is Guinness, and by God I'll be sinking some this week so it's handy really. Starting tomorrow (Sunday) with a skinful because I DON'T have to get up on Monday.
I think the order for each day for me is Shower, dress, Full English Breakfast, Golf, Whisky during golf, lunch with beer, more golf, post golf drink, shower, change, pre-dinner Guinness, dinner with Red wine, Guinness, snooker (maybe, if we can be arsed), Guinness, discussions on sex, discussions on football, Guinness, discussions on politics, Guinness and discussions on the meaning of life, sleep. Repeat for 5 days until common sense prevails.
Later, GuinnessJack
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