Sticking it to the bloke!

So, yesterday started off belting. Watched the son play his part in a good win on the final day of the season, although there is some dispute as to whether it was 5 or 6-1. The sun was out, the sky was blue, a good day was planned. Went to see BGNJ and his team play the only team above them in the league. They won, with Skipper BGNJ scoring the 4th in a 4-1 win. So, still all good. At this time, Rocha was getting sent off in sheepland for being headbutted, and Pompey were getting dicked by the clock robbers - things start to go downhill really. I go home to catch United beating City, all planned so I can rip the pish out of my mate, the city fan who is also a few slates short of a full roof. WTF happened there? City won! Bad times ensue.
We had plans for going out last night, binlids at Amityville (as this is my first post, I will explain this only once - Amityville is what I call the in-laws house. If you haven't heard of Amityville before, google it, I'm not here to wipe your arse!).
We're off out to a boozer not far away, on the bank of the river, for a mini festival they hold called Glastonferry (nice work on the name, good idea). This apparently is a thrice-annual bash, where divorced people go along, get mullered on fairly decent branded beers, have a sing song and a dance, and end up probably going home for a drunken fumble with someone they've just seen for the first time in years but they always fancied. Still, we were looking forward to the headline act, a Queen tribute, which was all gravy, and I'm a happy boy. This thing goes on all afternoon and evening, we arrive at 8pm, pretty much just to see the headline. Everyone is well oiled, fair do's to them, seems like they've had a great day. There's a band on, bloke with a red headband on, which is the only resemblance he had to Mark Knopfler. They should have called themselves Really Dire, but I maybe being unfair - they actually sounded ok, its just that their source material is Dire, but they did sound like them.
Then come on some polar primates. Not sure of their correct name, but you can work out who they were being. Again, they sounded alright, the odd song that I recognised sounded like their heros, but I realised just how much the real band are over-hyped. The music was god-awful (not the tribute band, but what they were covering). Then we notice that the place is emptying out, rather like last year's semi, when all the Tottenham fans left miles before the end. It starts to dawn on the four of us, everyone is going home. We wanted to go home, but were waiting for Queen. The primates were still on stage giving it their all, but there was hardly anyone left at the end of the set. So, did the Queen lot play early, or did they not turn up? We still don't know, but we sure as hell didn't see them perform! To be fair to the boozer, it seems everyone there had a brilliant day out, the beer wasn't over priced, it was well marshalled etc etc.

We walk back to the car, her indoors and her mate blondie wanted to have a Queen singalong in the car, with the roof down. Blondies other half didn't seem overly impressed with this thought, but what the hell, give them what they want, we'll both get what we want when we get them home, and he'll thank me for letting them have their fun.
Roof down, people looking at us like we're a bunch of almost middle aged tossers. Queen pumping out, full volume. Those two in the back, pissed up on gin, having a wail (sic) of a time. Him next to me starts to enjoy it, to be honest, it was very funny, so I decide to take them for a little drive to let them get it out of their system. Driving along the main road through Sankey, there are some cones out, sending us on to the other carriageway. A cyclist is up ahead, and I thought I would drive extra carefully, as the road wasn't the best, and he wasn't being the most road conscious he could have been. So, I hang back, waiting for the opportunity to pass, and do so when I can. All the time, I'm watching the two blokes in the car up my arse, thinking that they are either getting very pissed off because I'm driving slow or they are old bill. A hundred yards up the road, the latter proves to be correct. Flashy blue lights, pull over dickhead, what do you think you've been up to? Copper invites me out of the car, speaking though the non-existent roof at all of us (I thought I would be ironic by opening my window to talk to him). He asks me my name, and if I've had a drink, now, as you may know, I'm not allowed a shant, but I did sneak in a Guiness when we arrived at said fest, so I was honest and told him exactly that. So he breathalyses me, and whilst I'm blowing on his tube, I wonder whether the pint would mix with the medication and give a positive reading. It doesn't, I get a triple zero reading, result! PC Bloke gives me my souvenir, and we have a bit of a laugh, and say our good nights.
I get back into the car thinking that would calm the women down a bit, but instead I get congratulated for "sticking it to the bloke" and more riotous behaviour ensued. The two of them are hysterical - I think they laughing at me for being so f'ah about the whole situation. We get back to their house, and the pair of them are still at it, Blondie is almost unable to control herself with laughter. An hour later, her indoors is calm enough for me to drive us home.  I have to admit, you really probably had to have been there to fully understand, and this is probably going to stop you reading my blogs ever again as it has rambled on and on I'm sure.

The moral of this first story is, I guess, keep yer bird happy, for she is the one that cooks and cleans for you, and doesn't moan when you go the football etc. Keep your mate's bird happy, you never know, there's a chance that she maybe up for a threesome one day (joke FFS!).

I hope you enjoyed my first offering - constructive comments are very welcome.

Love you

xXx