Ronaldo

Josh nudged Ian and nodded at the figure hunched on the front seat of the bus. Ian examined the man then shrugged his shoulders. 

‘What?’ he said.
The two boys had decided to skip school and head down to the bay for some ice cream and sunshine.
‘It's Cristiano’ said Josh in a horse whisper that was louder than his normal voice.
Other people looked around at the two boys and then at the object of their gaze but none of them showed that much more interested. The man himself didn't flinch.
‘Who?’ Said Ian
‘Ronaldo’ said Josh, quieter this time.
‘Don't be a tool’ said Ian, ‘it doesn't look anything like him.’ Both boys examined the man as best they could from behind before Ian continued. ‘And what the fuck would Ronaldo be doing on a bus in Cardiff?’
‘I dunno,’ said Josh disappointed ‘maybe he’s got friends here,  hey maybe he’s visiting Gareth Bale or,’ his face lit up at the idea ‘maybe right, he wants to see the Doctor Who exhibition.’
‘Yeah right, like Ronaldo is into Dr Who and even if was, do you really think that he’d travel on a bus. He probably drive a Porsche wouldn’t he?’
‘Yeah but his cars must be in Madrid.’
‘Well he still wouldn’t be seen dead on a bus, he's not your mum.’ he said.

‘Or yours.’ Josh replied, he examined him further. ‘Look, he's wearing Real Madrid shorts, it must be ‘im.’
‘Josh you've got a Manchester United top but you're not fucking Ryan Giggs are you?’
‘I could be.’
Ian shock his head.
‘He's getting off, let's following him.’ Josh said excitedly. ‘C’mon.’
Just as the driver was pulling off, the two boys raced down to the front of the bus making the driver stop again.
‘Cheers drive.’ they chorused as the leapt off the bus.
“Ronaldo” had cross the road and the boys dashed across just at the green man had turned red causing a cacophony of horns from grumpy drivers.
‘He's going towards Nandos!’ said Ian.

‘See Portuguese,’ said Josh as if eating in a generic fake Portuguese restaurant proved his point. 

The stood outside the restaurant peering in. “Ronaldo” sat in the window, looked at the boys, and smiled, it obviously wasn’t him.

‘I told you you tool. Let’s go and get that ice cream.’ As the two boys turned away in disappointment they failed to spot a car pull up outside the restaurant and two men get out, a certain Mr Bale and his metrosexual Portuguese friend.

The Big Screen - A Steve Rant

‘You enjoying the football?’ Johnny asked Steve as he sat down with two fresh pints.
‘Oh I can take it or leave it,’ Steve said, not looking particularly enthused by the topic of conversation.
‘Really? It's been pretty good so far, best World Cup for years.’ Johnny continued, unperturbed by Steve's dismissive reply. ‘Netherlands Spain was a classic.’
‘Yeah I saw a bit of that, fair play it was a good game.’ Steve said but then he paused, his mind was whirring, Johnny could sense a rant, he was not wrong. ‘But you know what pisses me off about football?’
Here we go, thought Johnny, here we go, no doubt Steve’s ire would be directed at the players arguing with refs or the play acting, about it not being as gentlemanly as rugby.’
‘It's the bloody big screen,’ said Steve much to Johnny surprise.
‘But you never get to see the big screen?’ Johnny said searching his memory bank.
‘No but the cameras are always trying to pick people out and then you see their reaction.

Ah this is going to be one of his feminist rants, thought Johnny, they only pick out pretty women, it’s sexist and demeaning. He sat back and waited for it.
‘So there’re two reasons I don’t like the big screens,’ said Steve, ‘the obvious one is the way the fans see themselves and then wave at the screen. The bloody camera picking them out is right next to them but they don’t turn to look at that, oh no, they wave at the screen, so no one sees their faces, idiots.
Johnny nodded it was idiotic, ‘but that’s not confined to football Steve, is it?’ he countered. ‘and they want to see themselves.’
‘Idiots’ said Steve dismissing Johnny’s argument.
‘Okay you said two reasons’ Johnny said knowing when there was no winning. But he was regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.
‘Yeah’ Johnny could see Steve was lining up his winning penalty.  ‘During the Spain game the camera panned on a Spanish fan looking forlorn, heartbroken crestfallen, like his world was about to end. Then this poor, distraught soul saw himself on the big screen and started leaping around like Spain had won the World Cup. Well that just shows how shallow these football fans are. And also’ Steve was in fu;l flow now, ‘during anthems of one of the other games some fan had her hand on her heart, passionately belting out the anthem with gusto until she saw herself on the big screen and forgot all about her national pride and started jumping up and down like an X Factor winner. What is wrong with these people? Appearing on the big screen at football does not make you model, does not make you famous and does not make you any more important than the rest of us.’
‘You sound jealous,’ Johnny said teasing his friend.
‘Jealous? Jealous? Why would I be jealous?’
‘I dunno maybe you want your 15 seconds of fame.’
Steve smiled ‘well if the camera picked me out I'd sure as hell look straight in to it and not wave at the screen.’
Johnny desperately wanted to change the subjects but his bladder was empty and his pint glass  was full.

‘What do you think of the new vanishing spray?’ he said.

‘Oh that’s great isn’t it’ Steve replied and Johnny felt a whole lot better.  

The Power of Dead Balls

Okay this story carries a very red warning. It is a little cruder than my normal red warning stories. You have been warned.

But there is a reason for that - this story also has a story behind it. Explanation at the end. 

Greta sighed as another layer of frustration washed over her, was she ever gonna find herself a proper man? She was nearly 30 and starting to panic as she got older, worried she'd never find her Mr Right. Andy snored lightly next to her, he certainly wasn't Mr Right, he wasn't Mr Wrong either just Mr Bog Standard. He was very honest, very hard working but he was a little uninspiring in life and a real let down between the sheets. He was a big lad, a real handful but big isn’t always best, he was very quick, very direct, he just wanted to whip it in; she wished he'd move it around a little more. To make matters worse he was always trying to nip in behind too. The previous one had been the complete opposite, clever, witty, caring but too slow, too predictable in bed, side to side and back and forward, difficult to stop. 
What was wrong with her? She was a pretty girl, dark hair, dark skin alluring eyes, not too fat, not too thin, all she wanted was a man to engage her mind and satisfy her body, was that too much to ask? 

Wow that was better, a lot more like it, not frustration this time but a fantastic sense of relief. Her friends had laughed at her when she told them she was going on a date with Gordon. The name told the story; to 28 year old women he seemed like an old, old man, so old that Lucy had christened him 'dead balls'. But Greta thought he was one of those guys you have to get right up close to and then squeeze up a little bit more, the evening had been fantastic, talking, laughing, flirting and then, the sex had been out of this world. He'd got all the experience and showed the class and quality he had. He started it all off slowly, showing splashes of quality until all of a sudden she lost her footing a little bit.
She thought of Lucy and that daft nickname and told herself to tell Lucy not to underestimate the power of dead balls. 

Explanation time 

Last week I was watching Belgium v Algeria and it dawned on me that the commentator, Andy Townsend, was actually speaking in thinly veiled sexual innuendo. So this post is his words weaved into a story.

This is a list of the phrases he said,  see if you can spot them in the story.

Fantastic sense of relief
He's always trying to nip in behind
Couldn't get near him
Very honest very hardworking
Very difficult
Very stubborn
Looks to get in the box
Another layer of frustration
Brilliant at it
Side to side back and forward like that
Show the class and quality you've got
He does well with his legs
Those can creep in
Exceptionally quick
Whip it in first time
Too slow too predictable
Put it in there
Comes across the from of his man
He was always getting in the box
Tough man to deal with, difficult to stop
Get some bigguns in the box.
Squeeze up a little bit more.
Don't underestimate the power of dead balls
He's one of those guys you have to get right up close to
Just gather and manipulate himself.
He doesn't want to come and show
He's very quick, he's very direct.
He's a handful
He's got all the experience
You start to panic a bit as you get older
He's a big lad
He's not afraid to hit them
It's a little bit sticky
Move it around a little bit more
He has to be back inside his man
Great tackle
Two good feet
That's a lot more like it

The Honest Answer

‘What was the first thing you noticed about me?’ Sophie asked. It wasn't the first time that I'd ever been asked that question, women tend to ask it about three weeks into the relationship usually after sex when they are cuddling up to you  and you are trying to snooze. Usually you could give an almost honest answer, your eyes, your cute nose, etc, you never tended to say your huge breasts or pert arse but you are as honest as you can get away with it.

But with Soph it was different, for a start I felt differently about her, okay it was only 4 weeks in but I was beginning to think of her as the one, and that wasn’t because of any of the physical attributes although they were plentiful, it was the way she made me laugh, the way she argued her corner passionately, the way she gave as good as she got.

But I couldn't tell her what first attracted me to her could I? I could tell her it was the way her smile was a little lopsided, the way she cupped her chin in the wrong hand when concentrating, or the sparkle in her eyes when she laughed, all perfectly true and perfectly beautiful but none of them were the reason why I'd chased the young temp who had come to work in my office for 2 weeks.
You see the first thing that had attracted my attention to this lovely woman cuddling in to me now was the red lacy knickers she'd flashed at me quite accidentally on about her third day in work.
It wasn't exactly a ‘Basic Instinct’ moment! There was no attempt at seduction from her part and a complete accident from mine. It was a hot day, she had a short skirt on and when she crossed her legs there was a flash of red that caught my eye. To be honest, I hadn't really noticed her until then, she'd just been another temp covering for Karen who seemed to have more days on the sick than in work. But suddenly that flash of red got my attention and kept it. Not exactly the most romantic thing to build a relationship on but I was infatuated.
‘Was it my red knickers?’ she asked.
I sat up and looked at her, ‘what?’ I said.
‘My red knickers?’ she repeated.
‘Well, er, no, I mean.’ I was spluttering and stuttering. ‘What do you mean?’ I finally managed to ask.
She laughed at me, her smile as sweet as I'd ever seen it.
‘Well , I’d been working three days and you’d just ignored me. I had to get your attention somehow,’ she said and then kissed my blushing cheek. ‘and it worked didn't it?’