One bird,two stones


The pain on a scale of 1-10?

An ode to Newbridge around 2002


Controlling the ball with the greatest of ease, Dancing down the wing while taking on an entire team before releasing her deadly strike from point blank range straight into the balls of the on-coming defender. I land unsteadily on my feet unable to take another step and listen to the echo of my flattened testicals reverberate around the room. I’m sure I can feel blood as the waves of pain increase, yet to my credit I remain on the pitch with about as much use to my team as Steven Hawkins in a dance off.

I’ve worked alongside these people every day for the past eight months as well as these weekend games of football, but less than half an hour ago my shocking memory plus general lack of caring for names has been discovered and on being asked to choose the teams I simply point my finger saying “You, you, you and you”.

One by one, as I tip toe around now terrified of the ball, I watch each of my friends get smashed in one way or another. Concussion from a ball in the face, a twisted ankle and a fractured elbow adding to one set of crushed nads. We eventually stagger towards our local bar like zombies from a film.

Rambo – our crazy friend/legend with a shattered elbow- is joined by his brother and wife and we soon take part in a heated game of Stars In Your Eyes –google it. Our game consists of each person exiting the bar after introducing what famous singer they will be, then making a dramatic entrance into a cloud of cigarette smoke (pre-smoking ban), perform a song and wait for the judge’s reaction. Our game’s cut short when Rambo takes a right hook from his spouse rendering him unconscious on the floor. No sympathy for a wounded soldier in this town. Not from these lady’s.

After getting my ass handed to me by the King (Elvis has won again), I retire home and sleep it off then wake the following day to an update of recent developments.

I was not witness to what transpired so I’m only going on what I heard. God I hope it’s true!.

On entering their house, Rambo and wife had continued their little tiff resulting in Rambo taking the time to shoot his wife twice with an air rifle – quite an accomplishment with an injured arm but alcohol can work wonders- before receiving a sharpened tattie (potato) peeler to the gut from his nearest and dearest. Both surviving their latest bust-up, they kiss and make up. As you do after shooting and stabbing one-another!


The best part of three days it took for me to walk properly after my football nut shot, but maybe it’s some blessing in disguise to prevent the spread of Newbridger’s from polluting the planet with mini me’s or maybe just mini Andys. Nature’s way of saying one’s enough.

On knowing more than a few ‘Characters’ from this neck of the woods I can only chuckle at the memories and thank fuck I’m single!

Oh Newbridge, I love you really!



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