Match Report
Octopus
CC v Henleaze Old Boys
Sunday 4th May 2008 in London
By SJ Smith
Ode to the HOB Tour We Henleaze Old Boys We happy few On cricket tour To visit Stu The third year running Piled in a van Joined this year By Mike and Sam Pete and Jo Came down on the train Fresh from a wedding Livers in pain Arrived at the ground A mud-ridden wreck Before our eyes An artificial deck Beer cans strewn around All muggy and hot The HOBs weren't very Pleased with their lot Skip Smith won the toss We took to the field Hoping for wickets Rocky refused to yield He smashed the ball All over the place Sweat pouring down Arbuckle's face The anger was boiling And Leigh took the ball But he went for sixteen It was starting to gall But we soon pulled it back And wickets did fall The Octopi had Their backs to the wall Ed bowled like a god And nipped out a few Trahar watched from the side And looked like a Jew In came the otter With his goosy demeanour Once he was fat But now is much leaner It didn't help much After one lusty blow The otter was gone Caught out by Skip Jo So the Octopi crumbled Under hobber's might The fielding superb The bowling so tight The total was meagre One-twenty-five Our best-ever effort The game was alive As Phil and Ed Strode out into bat Stu and Rocky steamed in On a funny old track Their dodgy new ball Hooped all over the place And Ed copped a beauty A nguish etched on his face A number of Hobbers Came and then went It was all left to Sam After a night in his gaseous tent He cut and he drove Like a man with a plan With comedy facials Typical of a Lamb He made twenty-seven Which was just the ticket But was running out of partners And surrendered his wicket The closer we got The more we'd believe But our ninth wicket down A nd here comes Leigh With Ogilvie bowling And the Old Boys tense Ashford stood firm Looking immense Ten runs required Our last pair in Nerves-a-jangling In the quietening din In came the goose-arm With his long ranging leap Bowled a straight quick one Leigh collapsed in a heap The ball had thundered Into his pads Out LBW So disheartened the lads Watching on from the side Cups filled with the Valley They looked like a veritable Bunch of scalleys Sympathy for Leigh Was in short supply Apart from the kind And gracious Octopi Writhing around In pain and agony Leigh shook like a shitting dog Clutching his knee The poor sod had gone All pale and white He looked just like A dead man might The end of the match We'd lost the game But that was incidental To poor Leigh's pain Two nights in the hospital And a very sore knee Was the pinnacle of the weekend For poor old Leigh The Old Boys went out For a night in the city Thinking of Leigh Their hearts full of pity Tales of paramedics and ambulances Swirled with the booze Soon there was a comedy About Leigh's bad news We went down to Soho And to a gay bar Which for Ashford and Phil Was a step too far We left without sampling Their finest tipple And mourned the loss Of Stu's third nipple Or maybe his clit I can't remember its name Either way, piss-taking Was the name of the game We progressed to a club With the music pumping The Old Boys hit the dancefloor And got the place jumping Skip Jo then took A turn for the worse Fell asleep on a stool The Lizard-Lounge curse We made our way back In a number of cabs Got into our tents In dribs and drabs The morning arrived With news of poor Leigh In for two nights With his accurs-ed knee After messing about We piled in our bus Ash cracked open the booze With minimal fuss The traffic slow-moving So Ashford hopped out To replenish the lager "top man" was the shout To his great misfortune The day was stinking hot He worked up some sweat Catching up with us lot Happy and drinking But creating a stench Sarj placed his arse Either side of a bench Continual farting Is a dangerous game Sarj woke up with piles In hideous pain There's a lesson in that For Mr bulbous knob Never disrespect The house of HOB But last shout goes To the unfortunate Leigh Where did you get That crumbly knee? |