HT:Sport

Trombone 3, Chelsea 2

"Jingle Bells, Batman Smells, Robin laid an Egg. The batmobile threw its wheel - the joker got away. Hey!"

Yes! Winter is upon us in a big way. In a pre-winter-warning of things to come, 2 days before the official end of British Summertime (whatever that is) Chelsea came up against their greatest [note to the editor: Look up a good exciting word to insert in here before publishing because I've had a hard day, and I don't see why I should do all the hard work of thinking of impressive sounding long words when the Editor gets to sit in a nice, comfy, warm and cosy office all day, surrounded by half naked girls, when I... Every day, have to go out - freezing my particulars off - to report on sport... and lets be honest, no-one really reads this section do they? At least, no-one who really counts. I could make anything up here. Hmm. Perhaps I will.]

Thursday, October 23rd. The Lines were drawn. Chelsea, the lone rangers of democracy, standing tall and proud - while the bitter south wind rained snow down upon them. Their little bodies, cold as ice. Then they arrived, the opponents for the day. There were Trombones to the left of them - Trombones to the right... But still they fought on. Through the ice and snow, through the Hale and Pace. They continued, undaunted. Even when the Trombones' scored... again, and again. They fought on bravely.

Around half time, it was noticed, that the Trombone team was seamingly larger than that which started. In fact, it had increased tenfold. However, this was not a problem. Except that the buggers seemed unco-opretive and rarely moved - even when declared offside. Then it happened. Chelsea's keeper De Goey had a go at one of them after, in his words

"He said something bad about my mother, so I said something bad about his. As always, these things lead to more than that which you'd think, and we were a pushing and a shoving... Then his head came off!"

Yes! The offside number 27 lost his head. It rolled along the snow covered pitch - the coal eyes glinting sadly at such a waste of life, the carrot nose dripping with frost.

Fortunately the Ref finally jumped in and sent of all 429 Trombone players and did a silly little dance. He was joined by the 'assistant refs' - or as we like to remember them as, the linesmen, and they started a conga line. Of course, all the Chelsea players tagged on the end and danced merrilly upon the pitch. In fact, they scored twice during this time. In celibration, the Ref raised his whistle to his lips and blew hard. Unfortunately this caused everyone to walk off the pitch and go home.

A snowball fight then began between the supporters. At the final count, it was Chelsea supporters 25,239. Trombone supporters, 5 Which, of course, upset the applecart, and sent fruit scattering everywhere.

Schu-ee-poo-ee-3-1-2-ee

Well, what a F1 Racing season that was. Right down to the wire (so to speak). Of course, Firrari driver Michael Schumacher was leading the driver's championship's by one tiny little point. It was so close. So exciting. So visually entertaining, that we simply cannot render it in words. Instead, we will attempt to render the whole of the final race at the European Grand Prix entirely in sound effects.

grrrrrrrrrR
blink... blink... blink... blink... blink... blonk
VVVvvvvvvrooooom! eeeeeEEEEEVVVrrrrrroooooooooomEEEEVrooooomVrooom
VVvvvrroooom! Vrooom! Vroom! EeEeee! VroomVrooEEEEoom!
Vvvvroooom!VroooCRUNCH!Ow!Ow!ow!ow!ow!Skid!IctBienSchnell!Ow!Vrooom!Vroom!
Vrrrrrrrcoughrrrrrm!EEEEEEE!VroomVroom
WaveWaveWaveYay! Yay! Yay!
clunk... da-da-dah-dah-dah-da,de-da-dah-dah-dah-dah.
Do-dah-dah,do-dah-dah,do-dah-dah-dah-do-dah-dah

Well, that was exciting wasn't it? 1st and second place went to the Maclarens of the Mika Hakkinen and David Coulthard , with third place going to Jaques Villeneueve - winning him the driver's championship. Michael decided to turn on Jaques when his car was playing up, but Jaques was not into any of that sort of thing and pushed back Michael's advances - pushing him head first into a sandpit.
Ho Ho Ho.

Where is France? ... Dublin.

Way back in the eighties when most of us were into powerdressing - with lovely suits with 10 inch thick shoulderpads, plans were afoot for the Tour de France to start in the United States. However, common sense prevailed when it was revealed that The United States was not in France, and neither was France in the United States.

However, it seems someone who has no concept of geography has planned the 1998 race. Yes. The bikers start in Dublin in Ireland, in France. They then cycle down to Cork in Ireland, in France , swim the channel to Brittany, not in Ireland(I think), in France, get back on their bikes for a bit, then swim the rest of the way to Roscoff, in France, in France - before cycling for a few miles and ending up in Paris, in France, in France.

Race organisers had this to say

"We had been out all night at a wine tasting festival, when we jotted down the route. It all seemed like a good idea at the time... weeding out the boys from the bouys and all that...hic"