Hamish McShanks

Hello Folks

Latest installment of ramblings and drivel.

Yes it's late, I know, I know. I could blame the Posties but that would be a fib and my mum told me not to tell fibs.

In a tragic turn for the worse my employer has insisted I actually do some work. This came as a complete shock. I did consult my union representative and he informed me that this is standard practice with most companies. As a result I am quite busy the noo.

To say I'm dissapointed would be an understatement ......

Hope ye enjoy this late submission anyway

Kindest Regards

Ham

Ham Shanks ‘Points of view’ w/e 7^th Oct 2007

I have received some ‘feedback’ about my last diary; a disgruntled reader took issue to my reference about the ‘real’ world cup being the Rugby world cup and not the football world cup. He took further umbrage at my intimation that oval was the correct shape for a ball. He was quite vociferous on the matter I have to say. Whilst I will concede that a football is obviously spherical in shape and would therefore be more closely associated with the dictionary definition of a ball he merely needs to have a rummage around inside his boxer shorts and decide if the contents of his happy sack are round or oval? Are they balls?

I have to say the recent events at Parkhead in Glasgow did nothing to change my previously voiced opinion of professional footballers and the round ball game. A boozed up ‘fan’ invades the pitch (yes he was a cretin wasn’t he) ‘taps’ the Milan goalie on the chest to congratulate him on his butter fingers which have just handed Celtic the game completely against the run of play. The invader then staggers off, taking another swig of buckie from his bottle. Our slippery handed hero sprints after the fan for half a dozen steps before thinking ‘hold the phone, I think I’ll play my joker card now’ crumples into a heap as if he’s been winged by a snipers bullet from the West Stand and pandemonium ensues.

‘Real’ footballers must shake their heads in disbelief. Because for all I have a pop at participants of the beautiful game; it is a hard game, it can be very physical. Let’s face it you don’t get a puss like Alex McLeish or Steve Bruce by wincing out of a challenge. It’s a shame the ponces up front (and in goal now) let the side down. Clearly Dida needs an anatomy lesson as well. When you’ve been tickled on your right pectoral/deltoid muscle there is little point in holding an ice pack to your left cheek? Similarly even a severe injury to your cheek tends not to affect your legs. Stretchered off? You’re having a giraffe!

Slight discrepancy with say Terry Butcher against Poland where half his brain was hanging oot the side of his head and he was still biting the opponents ankles ‘come back you cowards it’s only a flesh wound’ he screamed as the physio dragged him off for urgent cranial surgery. Okay so the authorities would never allow a player to continue in that condition nowadays and his white shirt may have made things look a tad more dramatic than they actually were but you still have to say ‘nails’

Nails are probably being looked out for Robert McHendry, the Celtic fan who prompted Didas award winning performance. He handed himself into a local police station. What they failed to mention on the six o’clock news was that he didn’t do it out of remorse for his drunken act or for the sake of Celtic football club. He was going to get his knackers nailed to a post if the real fans caught him first. It was protective custody! I believe he’s thinking of moving abroad? Sensible idea; perhaps invest in some plastic surgery as well?

I reckon there are about 80,000 hoops fans willing to carry out the procedure for free, although they will be using a broken bottle rather than the traditional scalpel.

However this minor excitement was detracting me from the real action. Scotland versus Argentina in the quarter final of the Rugby World Cup. Frank Haddens strategy of playing the under 13’s against the All Blacks had paid off handsomely. We cruised* past Italy (* for a given value of cruise) and now it was all to play for. Just three wins away from claiming that Web Ellis trophy ….

I’d travelled to my brothers’ house to watch the quarter final. I was concerned he might still be a little upset over last weekends broken nose ‘incident’ and I knocked on the door with some trepidation. When he answered he was clutching a can of beer and wearing a full hockey goal tenders outfit; not a good sign. ‘Alright bruv?’ I enquired, holding out the massive carry out I had taken by way of a peace offering ‘oh great, doo made it’ he mumbled before gesturing me inside.

‘How’s the … eeer uuum’, ‘de broken doze?’ he interjected ‘yes’ I finished lamely ‘still broken’, ‘right, er, that’s um … good then’ I mumbled whilst avoiding his withering glare and scuttling off to a far away seat. It was in fact the only other available seat in the living room. I couldn’t help but notice it was angled in such a way that I could only see a thin sliver of television. Standing up I grasped both arms of the chair ‘what are oo dooing?’, ‘moving the-‘, ‘cant move it or doo’ll mark de floor’ I glance down at the pock parked carpet, it looked like small wars had already been fought and lost on it, ‘oookay can you turn the telly round then so I can-‘, ‘nope’, ‘but I cant s-‘, ‘nae luck’

This would appear to be part of his revenge. Burmese police and dictators of the world take note; don’t waste your time with traditional ‘stress’ positions simply get your prisoner in a room with something they would desperately like to see on telly and they will actively torture themselves. By half time I couldn’t move my neck. It was locked in a half cocked position. Filled with beer I hobbled to the toilet, hitting the doorframe on the way due to my changed visual perspective. My brother laughed so hard beer came out of his nose.

Feeling aggrieved I decided to repay my brothers raucous laughter by being somewhat casual with my ‘aim’ when I did finally pinball my way to the toilet ‘Ooops silly me’ I sniggered as I started sprinkling the toilet seat and carpet with recycled beer ‘how careless of me’ I continued; clenching my buttocks and working my core stability muscles in an effort to reach the medicine cabinet above the sink. I was concentrating hard ‘WHAT DE FUUUCK ARE OO DOOIN?’ and not heard the footsteps behind.

With hindsight, spinning quickly round was not the best idea. Think garden sprinkler, only warmer and yellower. And I was aiming high; head height really …..

But every cloud has a silver lining. The big right hook cricked my neck straight back into place so I’ve saved a visit to the chiropractor. However the same could not be said for the kicks to my gonads; unless their place is supposed to be next to your tonsils? They are out with the remit of chiropractic care but I have to confess this was not foremost in my mind as I folded up onto the bathroom floor with the strangest feeling of déjà vu?

So could the very last match of the world cup be a repeat of the first? France against Argentina? You would have got wild odds for that four weeks ago. Who knows, but one things for sure, I shant be watching it with my brother.

Au revoir mes ami; Alles les Bleus!