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Pointless Sports Part 2

20 Sep

Part 1: https://kylejwilkins.wordpress.com/2011/09/07/pointless-sports/

This is the second instalment of the ten of the most pointless sports in the world. In the first part, I covered polo, water polo, the hammer throw, bowls and curling; all sports which really don’t have any point or substance to them. The next five are as follows:

 6) Pole Vault – I’m not too sure how this sport came to be. All that is involved is running along with a flexible pole, which is then used to fling the competitor as high as possible in the air, over a bar. It’s boring to watch, unless the bar they are vaulting over, or indeed their pole, happens to land on them once they are sprawled on the crash mat. The sport would be much more entertaining if it involved vaulting over Polish people; I’m certain this would attract more spectators. The one thing the pole vault has going for it is the fact the competitors stand on the start line and wait for the slow hand clap from the 10-strong crowd to start up, only starting their run up when the clapping has reached its climax. But that’s it. It’s not exciting in the slightest. In fact, all it really is, is a ‘will they or won’t they make it’ scenario; like a really shit version of Heads or Tails, or a slightly better version of ITV ‘blockbuster’ Red or Black.

 7) Cross-Country – The bane of many school children throughout the country over the last 30-40 years, cross-country is more a form of punishment than it is a sport. Invented by sadistic head teachers from some of the top schools in the UK, cross-country has seen many a child almost die through forced participation. It is an unwritten rule that cross-country can only take place in freezing, windswept conditions, and can only be participated by children under the age of 16. These children are rounded up and shown the course, usually 2 laps around a muddy track, with the most unfortunate competitors having to run in vest and pants as they’ve forgotten their sports kit.  More concerned with their pre-pubescent cocks peeking out from beneath their pants, or the wind and rain messing up their hair and make-up; the kids will then be bellowed at as they struggle around the course. “RUN! DON’T WALK”, the most commonly heard phrase, as the course stewards (teachers, dressed in thermals and waterproof clothing), make sure everyone is giving their all, despite their best efforts to go as slow as physically possible. The end result is always the same; a hundred or so soaking wet kids, cold and exhausted, standing at the finish line waiting for the last competitor to finish. This person is usually, and let’s be brutally honest, fat. There is also a high chance that they will be crying. However, every competitor is united in one thing; the hate of cross-country.

 8) Cricket – A controversial inclusion I know, but cricket just doesn’t do anything for me. Two teams of men, dressed head to toe in white, smashing a really rather hard ball about a field isn’t really my cup of tea. There are a few variations on the game too, in a bid to try and appeal to a wider audience. Test cricket is a longer game, played over a number of days, the result of the game can be decided by the weather (yes, I know!), and the 20/20 game is a rather frantic affair, with each side bowling an agreed amount of balls whilst the other scores as many runs as possible. Both games are still, for me, dull. It doesn’t really have much of a pace to it, and a lot of the time, the result can be foreseen by the halfway point in a game, so it’s rare that there is a huge twist in the game. 10CC famously sang “I don’t like cricket, I love it”. I might do a cover version of it called ‘I don’t like cricket, it’s cricket’.

 9) Skiing – Grown adults put on garish looking shell-suit like clothing, and go speeding down a mountain as fast as possible with small runners on their feet and a pole in each hand for balance. How enthralling! I am of course being sarcastic; quite why anyone would want to speed down a mountain with NO brakes is beyond me.  Again, like cricket, there are variations on the sport. Slalom, sees the competitor speed down the mountain, zig-zagging their way through various flags. I’m not sure why they can’t just go in a straight line. Then there is another version, which I am unsure of the name and can’t be bothered to look for it, where there are various bumps and mounds of snow that the skiers have to go over. They jiggle about like a fat girl on top of a washing machine and that’s about it. Then there is the ski jump, where they slide down a huge platform, jump off the end of it and high into the air, leaning forward with their hands behind their backs in a very nonchalant and quite smug manner. All very different versions, but let’s not kid ourselves: it’s still skiing and it still takes place on cold, hard snow, on a mountain. Mountain are high, people fall off them.

 10) Formula 1 – I think I’ve saved the most pointless sport until last. Formula 1 is THE most pointless sport in existence, but attracts a huge audience. Why? As I see it, 20 or so cars line up on the starting grid, based on how fast they have driven in qualifying (which people actually watch!). Now this itself is down to the actual car and not the driver; I’m certain that any driver that finished last in a previous race, would come at least top 3 if he were to be put in the fastest car. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Once the first corner is out of the way, which sometimes, if you’re lucky enough, will see a few cars spin out or get overtaken. After the first lap, the overtaking is very, very limited, with cars only moving up positions if the one ahead of them goes in for a pit-stop. There is an exception to the rule; a ‘fast’ car may have had to start lower on the grid, and as you’d expect, they soon overtake the other drivers in front of them, regardless of the drivers skill or capabilities. Not very exciting really.

Then there are the spectators, who flock in their droves to watch the cars speed past them in a blur, from a distance of about a mile, as they cheer for a split second every time their favoured team or driver whizz past. What is the point? Formula 1 – you are a terrible sport.

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Pointless Sports

7 Sep

Sport; a physical activity that is governed by a set of rules or customs and often engaged in competitively, is how the dictionary defines it. But sports can be so much more than that. Some are enthralling and captivating. They can bring thousands of people, countries even, together, or at the same time divide them, causing grown men to shed tears, shout at the television and argue incessantly amongst themselves. You cannot underestimate the power of sport.

 Having said that, some sports are completely pointless and quite frankly, terrible. Here are the first 5 of my top 10 pointless sports:

1) Polo – A group of posh men (the correct term for this is a ‘smug-ring of men’), ride around on horses, twatting a ball about with a long croquet stick. They are ‘cheered’ on by women wearing the latest in high fashion, and smarmy blokes wearing chinos or red trousers, with a Ralph Lauren jumper draped over their shoulders, whilst they drink Pimms and talk about how much money daddy has given them to live off for the year. Pretentious does not even come close to describing a polo match. Even the horses have delusions of grandeur, and look at commoners like they are scum, before trotting off to their stables to indulge in opium and high class hookers.

 2) Water polo – Now this would be good if horses were involved, instead though, it just consists of a two teams jumping around in a swimming pool, trying to through a ball into a net. It doesn’t really sound that entertaining. That’s because it isn’t. I think polo may have come about from middle-class people angry at the snobiness of normal polo enthusiasts, but it backfired because they invented such a crap game. It’s the sort of game you conjouled into playing on holiday by the over enthusiastic ‘reps’ that strut around pool trying to get as many people to indugle in family fun as they can. In reality, no one can really be arsed to play, because it’s rubbish.

3) Hammer Throw – This sport was came into existence in Romania, when an angry woman threw a hammer at her philandering husband. As he ran off, she threw more hammers at him, and locals were astounded at how far she threw them, each time hitting him or coming very close to doing so. The woman became a local celebrity, and it became custom for scorned women to grab the nearest hammer and launch it at their partner if he was found to be cheating on her. Soon, an annual event was started, where women from towns all over the country would see who could throw a hammer the furthest, cheered on by hundreds of people. Sadly, none of this is true, but it beats just saying, ‘people spin round briefly and then see how far they can throw a big hammer’.

4) Bowls – Not to be confused with ‘bowels’, a part of the intestine that connects to the anus; bowels is a popular sport amongst the elderly community. I’ve never really understood the appeal of it. Sure, there is a little bit of skill involved in getting your big ball next to the little white one, and players jostle to get as close as they can, applying curve and spin to each ball that they gently roll towards the marker. This is then all undone when the final ball is sent hurtling down the green, smashing every other ball in its path out the way, rendering the whole build up process pointless. Come to think of it, Bowels would probably be far more interesting, with thrills and spills aplenty.

5) Curling –  I’m not sure why anyone would want to go and watch a game of curling, it’s basically bowls but with brooms involved. Two teams clean the already clean ice to make it more smooth I think. I don’t properly understand why. If you get joy from using a broom than this is the sport for you. It reeks of male chauvinism (despite the fact men also play it) and would only be improved to a watchable game if all players had to be blindfolded.

Next 5 here: https://kylejwilkins.wordpress.com/2011/09/20/pointless-sports-part-2/

Comments Overheard

6 Sep

These are things that I’ve heard people say over the last weeks or so. More will follow if I happen to overhear anything remotely interesting or stupid. I should mention, I don’t deliberately eavesdrop, much.

 Old lady to an old man, probably her husband, in the local park:

“George! Don’t look directly at the sun, you’ll burn your rectums!”

 Lady, in her thirties, to her son, who looked about six. This was outside a Chinese Takeaway:

“Jack, will you leave that bloody Rubik’s Cube alone for 5 minutes?”

 

 

In the office:

Girl 1 – “Oh my God, did you hear about Kate at one of our resellers?”
Girl 2 – “Kate Kate?”
Girl 1 – “Yeah, Kate!”
Girl 2 – “Whaaaaaat?!”
Girl 1 – “Well she had a brain tumour and died. She died Saturday”.
Girl 2 – “Oh my God! I knew she was ill. Oh my God!”
Girl 1 – “Yeah I know!”
Girl 2 – “Did you know her? Are you going to the funeral?”
Girl 1 – “Erm, kind of knew her. Well, we were friends on Facebook.”
Girl 2 – “Oh my God! What you going to do?”
Girl 1 – “I just deleted her as a friend.”

 

I have to work with these people

 

In the local park, a young girl to her father:

“Daddy, you look pretty today. You’re belly is very fat though”

 

It the office again, a different girl this time:

“How do you spell ‘whoa’ so that it says  ‘whoa’ and not ‘wow’?

 In Tesco. I’d like to know what this was about; a gentleman aged about 19 to his friend:

“Listen to me, I did not, and I repeat NOT, have a wank on the train”

 In Tesco again, the following night. Young girl to her mum:

Girl – “Mummy! I need a wee!

Mum – “You’ve just been for a wee!”

Girl –  “I still have some stuck in me”

 

In a pub, a man, mid-forties, gesturing to a Capri Sun carton drink behind the bar:

Man – “How much is one of those?”

Bargirl – “One pound eighty”

Man – “One pound eighty?! Are you taking my dog for a shit?”

Man ordered a lemonade. It cost him £2.10.

 

At the newsagents this morning, two men in their late twenties:

Man 1 – “Good weekend, mate?”
Man 2 – “Yeah, great thanks. You?”

Man 1 – “It’s confidential”.

10 Reasons Why I Hate Camping

31 Aug

Camping; a great British pastime that to me is one of life’s truly overrated experiences. Sod ‘getting in touch with nature’ and all that malarkey, give me a holiday where I can chill out and not have to worry about collecting sticks and trying to keep warm please. I went camping once and I’ve vowed never to go again. If I ever get even a little bit tempted to join friends on their camping trips, I always remember the reasons why I hate it so much. Then I spend the next few days sat at home in my warm house, sleeping in a comfortable bed, smiling to myself in the knowledge that one of them will be stumbling to a nearby bush in the early hours of the morning to urinate and will probably tread barefoot in fox’s shit. With that in mind, here are those reasons why I hate camping so much:

 1)  It could be the middle of a glorious summer, a delightful heat wave period, but rest assured, as soon as you pitch a tent it will start raining. Once it starts, it doesn’t stop, and it is impossible to keep anything dry. Clothes, personal belongings (such as phones and wallets), seating and even food will soon be damp. Don’t even think about trying to start a raging fire for you and your fellow campers to congregate by. Instead, you’ll be forced to huddle around a smouldering pile of sticks in an effort to keep warm.

 

2)  Once sat in your huddle, there will always be someone in the group who will get out their guitar that they have brought with them especially. After a few minutes of strumming out-of-tune chords, they will try and get everyone else to join in with renditions of Kum-By-Yah or some other song that nobody really likes nor indeed knows the words to. A few campers will start clapping along. It is at this point you should consider going home.

 

3)  The food is always terrible. As it is neigh on impossible to plug in a freezer, tinned foods are on the menu for the majority of the camping period. Granted, a few sausages may be cooked on the first night, but after these have been consumed you can only look forward to a diet of sludge. Any meat that is cooked will be nice and crispy on the outside, and raw on the inside. Unless you have a cast iron gut, you’ll be squatting in the bushes in no time at all. This leads me nicely onto my next point

 

4)  There are no toilets, or if they are, you need to go in prepared. By prepared, I mean you’ll need overalls, wellington boots, a nose clip, a gas mask and a step ladder so you can hover above the mountain of filth that has already accumulated. If there are no toilet facilities (because you’ve chosen to camp in some woods rather than a site), then you’ll have to make do with a bush. How great is that! If neither of these choices appeal to you, you have the option of holding it in until you get home. What a fantastic holiday experience.

 

5)  Due to the above reasons, most people will be in a pretty bad mood, and conversation will therefore be mundane and quite frankly, annoying. Typically, some cad will start to tell ghost stories as the night draws in, so you can all scare yourselves shitless, hoping you’re not going to bump into one when you venture out of your tent, or not get murdered during the night.

 

6)  Sleeping is impossible. If you’re not sat with your eyes wide open, saying “what’s that?” worriedly at every noise you hear and thinking the worst, you’re laying shivering in a sleeping bag, with only the tent canvas between you and the wet grass. The wind will blow the sides of the tent in, sticking it to your face as it is so wet, and there will always be, without fail, an earwig or beetle underneath your sleeping bag in the morning.

 

7)  The games you are forced to play such as Rounders or some other nonsense sport, which always results in the alpha male of the group smashing a ball with a lump of wood into a nearby field so that a group of children and women scamper after it, trying to avoid the cow-pat landmines. The same resulting arguments always follow during these games; ‘I was no way out!’ or ‘Those aren’t the rules!’, for example.

 

8)  I’ve mentioned earwigs and beetles somehow getting into the ‘sealed’ tent, but there are loads of other bugs and creatures too. Moths as big as dinner plates swarm around the campsite, like crazed drug-fuelled creatures looking for their next hit of light. Then there are the mosquitoes which just love biting everyone as much as they can, as if they are saying “Ha-ha, you’ve gone camping!”. Spiders and stag beetles roam the site, kicking lumps out of anyone they see. Wearing knuckle dusters and smoking any dropped cigarettes, they’ll pounce when you least expect it, shouting, “Wanker!” at you as they launch their attack.

 

9)  The tent itself is one of the most annoying things about camping. Putting the thing together in the first place is akin to a challenge you’d find on The Krypton Factor. Again, arguments will ensue, normally about which piece of the frame goes where. There is a high chance that at least one peg will be missing, so the tent will have to be weighed down from the inside. I am also under the impression that the manufacturers base their tent sizes on dwarves. ‘Two man’ tents are only really suitable for a child, a six-man tent can fit 3 people at a push; you get the idea with that one. Then there is the sweaty condensation that forms on the inside of the tent, so that it clings to you should you be so brave to put your face anywhere near it. The zips are so loud; some are known to be louder than a Boeing 747 taking off. Tents are rubbish. I’d rather sleep in my car.

 

10) The air of depression in the car on the way home, once the camping trip is over. It’s the realisation that you’ve wasted a few days of your life to live outside. All your clothes are dirty and wet, and you have to take all of your rubbish (which by now smells a great deal) back home with you. Why did you go camping? Why?!

 

People always tell me, ‘camping isn’t like that anymore, they have showers and everything!’. Well I should fucking think so! A shower is the minimum I’d expect if I was going on holiday. The absolute minimum! Plus, surely staying on a campsite is the cheats way to camping? Any excuse for them to say that they’ve been on holiday really, but it’s not proper camping. It’s not too dissimilar from me pitching a tent in my back garden, and then nipping inside to use the shower every morning.

 

I just don’t know what the big appeal is about the ‘Great’ Outdoors. I think maybe it stems from the youthful enjoyment of building a den with your mates, and pretending you were on some sort of great adventure. There can’t be any other reason for it. Sometimes, I do have a guilty admiration for those people that enjoy camping, but then this admiration soon passes and I think to myself, ‘Grow up and have a proper holiday’.

 

I hate camping.

IKEA – Why I hate it

11 Aug

One of the worst phrases that a man can hear in his lifetime is ‘Shall we go to IKEA this weekend?’ It’s up there with those other dreaded expressions such as ‘Time at the bar please’, ‘She lied about being 16’ and ‘You’ve got a terminal illness’.

 IKEA is a monumental waste of time and energy; an endless warren of paths and passageways leading the customer on a merry meander through the store. Once you’ve stepped inside, you can’t turn back. No, this is against the rules. You must follow the arrows that have been painted onto the floors until you reach the exit; but the exit never comes. Ok, it does, but only after at least a 3 hour rove through the narrow corridors, which only to widen so that they can fit in an example bedroom or a basket of 1000 cushions in front of your path. If you do make an attempt at turning back, you are soon ushered forward again by the brain-dead IKEA lovers who mope through the endless trails like cattle heading for slaughter.

 The choice on offer at IKEA is vast, but only a handful of any particular type of product is worth having. For every 300 shelving solutions on offer, only 1 would suit your home, but as luck would have it, you don’t really like it anyway. Then you’ve got the problem that if you do like it, you can’t fit it in your car to take home with you. FUCKSOCKS!

The only solution here, or for anyone who doesn’t like the crowds, is to use the IKEA website. Now this in itself is a much more enjoyable experience; no crowds, no getting tempted to buy things you don’t need and you can leave at any time. But this is where IKEA lulls you into a false sense of security.  Everything seems to be going smoothly and then, ‘WHAT IN SHITCOCKS NAME? IT’S £35 TO DELIVER A POXY LAMPSHADE?!’

 You see IKEA charge £35 delivery per order. It doesn’t matter how little or how much you order, you will always pay £35. Now this wouldn’t be too bad if you love decking your home out with IKEA sofas, wall units and beds, but if you just want to order a cutlery set, you still have to pay £35. It’s almost enough to make you go back and face the monotony of the place and the brain-dead public. Almost, but not quite, because when shopping at home you still have the luxury of being able to eat and drink when and what you like. In IKEA, they reward your impressive conquering of its many alleyways with a choice of either meatballs or an all day breakfast. Yum yum; food for all the family. I know some people that have actually gone to IKEA just for the meatballs. Why? Why do they do it? Are they insane? The meatballs have the texture of a dog’s testicle and taste worse (probably).

 I feel sorry for any man who is dragged to IKEA by his other half on a weekend. My thoughts go out to you, they really do. Is there anything worse? Josef Fritzl’s daughter will probably wish she was still hidden away once she visits IKEA. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if IKEA release a ‘build-your-own-private basement’ package on the back of Fritzl’s ‘success’.  Other items I would suggest for their range include:

 –  The Anne Frank Storage Cupboard. A fantastic flat pack product that you can fit into the smallest of spaces, turning a previously unused space into a perfect storage solution.

 –  The Homo Pillow. A plumper, comfier pillow, built for durability for those that like to bite them.

 –   Michael Jackson Laminate Flooring. Perfect for moonwalking on, or for wiping up any, erm, mess

–    The Lenny Henry Mattress. Reinforced on one side in case you have a preference for fat birds.

I advise anyone to heed my advice. Give IKEA a wide berth, if your missus will let you…

Quiz Team Names

6 Aug

Everyone loves a good pub quiz; it’s hard not to like them – a quiz, in a pub. What more could you want? What really gets on my nerves though is when people choose rubbish team names. A pub quiz is an ideal opportunity to express oneself; to choose a funny or witty team name that makes all the other teams around you jealous at your prowess. It’s as good as getting a few points head start. In my opinion, there are a few rules that should be adhered to when choosing your team name:

DON’T – have anything that could be classed as racist. Whilst you and your friends may think it’s funny, any quiz victory will be marred by your controversial team name. Having said this, there are a few exceptions to the rule which should make everyone chuckle; ‘The Abu Hamza Gloveless Wonders’, for example, is a good name.

DO – Go controversial and insult disabled people or midgets. Everyone will laugh at your team name and won’t feel bad about it like they could do with anything racist. ‘Jeremy Beadle’s Claw’ or ‘Cock Thrusting Midgets’ are names that will grab attention, and will get you remembered in pub quiz folk law.

DON’T – Use your surname, or a combination of everyone in your teams name, as your quiz name. This is just stupid. No one will respect any team called ‘The Greens’, or ‘John and Paul’. Use your imagination.

DO – Feel free to use animals in your team name. ‘The Exploding Ferrets’ or ‘The Bulbous Sloths’ are names that people will remember. I would heartily recommend combining both an animal and a place name for maximum effect, for example, ‘The Cunting Pigs of Poland’.

DON’T – Forget to incorporate famous people into your quiz team name. Nobody likes to be beaten by ‘Bruce Forsyth’s Anal Beard’ in a quiz. Similarly, imagine the pain and anguish you’d feel after getting a quiz twatting from ‘Kate Winslet’s Mangy Quim’. Fictional characters can also be used. ‘Deirdre Rachid’s Bike Pump’, a quick example.

DO – The most important one, be creative. I heard of a team called Dyslexics Untied, which I thought was a pretty good name. My own personal favourite is to call your team, ‘Currently In First Place with 94 points Actually 93 Points’. It leads to much confusion at the end of a round when the host reads out the current standings. For example,

“In third place are Currently In First Place with 94 Points Actually 93 Points, with 25 points”.

It confuses people.

Read Part 2: https://kylejwilkins.wordpress.com/2011/09/14/quiz-team-names-part-2/

Old Sayings

1 Jul

It is remarkable at how many old sayings and proverbs I can remember:

 

– Home is where the house is
– Never look a gift horse in the anus
– A little of what you fancy makes you fat
– A poor workman always blames his Polish understudy
– Actions speak louder than words, for the deaf community
– Don’t count your chickens in one basket
– Laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and you’re an emo
– See a pin and pick it up, careful you don’t cut your finger

 

I could go on. So many sayings, and I still remember them from growing up.

 

Sometimes these old sayings can prove useless; they just use up valuable storage space in my mind. Other times however, things happen in life, and it gives me the chance to use one of the sayings that I still remember. Take last week for example.
I saw a woman in Tesco, struggling to control her kids. She looked really stressed and at breaking point. Then she accidently knocked over a carton of milk and it exploded all over the aisle floor.

 

She dropped to her knees and burst into tears, surrounded by spilled milk. It reminded me of something my dad used to say to my mum, a saying I still remember, so I walked over to her and said; “Get a fucking grip, you stupid bitch.”

 

Ahhhh, old sayings.

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