Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

Boy On Boy

A win at the rugby world cup would have made the English happy for an hour or two. As it is we'll have to make do with the amusement afforded by the up-coming general election.

They tried to make me play rugby when I was a kid. I hated it. It was a game for nasty rough boys- and while I was happy to play at killing vast numbers of people with my plastic rifle- shooting some- then getting to work with the "baynit and the butt"- I shied away from actual, physical boy on boy action.

My father had a business buddy who still laboured under his wartime title of "brigadier" (lots of men in that age carried on being colonels and captains and what not long after they'd stopped wearing uniform) and I thought brigadier was a glorious word and so in my genocidal play I took that title for myself. I also sometimes- in emulation of the actual brigadier- wore a moustache- a piece of brown cloth cut from my cowboy trousers because cowboys were so last season...

How did I attach it to my upper lip? With Sellotape, I suppose.

"The brigadier"- my version of him, that is- was once accused of treason- unjustly of course- and defended himself by running away, blasting at his pursuers (my mate Stephen) with a wind-up toy machine gun that made a most satisfying noise. The pursuers however (though blasted long and loud) refused to fall over- which was most unfair of him...

I eventually broke with Stephen. He got a new best friend and they froze me out. Unsurprising, really; both us wanted to be last man standing and there was no "give" in either of us.

How did this all start? Oh, yes, rugby. Nasty game. Leave it to the South Africans....
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