The persons and stories contained within this text may be ficticious. Not all the stories are true and some are second hand, or rumours or even just plain made up. The characters may also not be real or perhaps are real but with made up names.

The following may or may not have happened sometime between the dates of March 29th and April 1st.
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March 30th

10.14am

Ahhh.. another good reason for coming up on Thursday night , the Friday morning lie in. Dog is up and about, Brad shuffles into the room in a fetching pants and duvet number and Gary ‘the rummy’ is not looking particulary pleasant either. Im feeling reasonable which is suprising as Im not a morning person at all. A quick cup of tea and its on to the next traditional game of Yarmouth entitled “what I forgot to bring”

“OH F*** !!!! I forgot to bring a towel !!” says Dog :lol:

It's the school boy error we’ve all seen before. If you have forgotten something in Yarmouth then you are in a world of hurt. The mini mart on site is run by the ruthless and they take no prisoners. Dog is a dead wallet walking as he starts his day by heading off for a newspaper, some ketchup for the bacon and the all important towel. As he kicks the door open on his way back into the caravan we wait patiently for the inevitable….

“7 f**king quid he charged me for a towel !!! SEVEN QUID !! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT !!”

“you paid 7 pound for that ?” says Brad pointing at a bright blue ocean picture towel which has giant cartoon fish drawn on it and a nice seaweed motif.

“ I had to it was the only one they had left !!”

I look at Brad, who looks at Gary who looks at me and we crack up. The old ‘it's the only one Ive got left’ routine has claimed another victim. Not even 25% of the pool players have arrived on the site yet and already they have run out of towels supposedly. :wink:

Dog storms off to the bathroom. The Mini Mart at Yarmouth is a gold mine.

Now its Brads turn –

“I left my shaving stuff at home, has anyone got some ?”

Gary gives in and offers his. Later on Brads got hold of my deodorant as well as he proceeds to pick and choose the best of the toiletries that we have to offer. Luckily I hid my Hai Karate. In return we all swipe some of his Lynx Thai Massage Shower Gel with Added Sea Salt that he leaves in the shower.

10.50am

Dog is a blur of activity in the kitchen. The pan is out and the bacon is on, suddenly the muffins find a use as imitation Bacon Mc Muffins. We offer him 6 out of 10 for the breakfast effort and he is not chuffed. Too much of the Utterly Butterly on the bread and a lack of crispiness in the rind has knocked him back. However the ‘do it yer f***ing selves next time” gives it that authentic Gordon Ramsey touch.

12:30pm

Everyone cleaned up and fed and its practise room time. 30 tables and only about 4 of them are level. The practise room is actually a proper pool/snooker room on the camp site so its their responsibility for the condition. At least five of them roll out by a clear foot. A better effort is called for on their part especially as its £1 a game and they are charging us £3.40 a pint ! (Its a goldmine I tells ya)

We cant get on the quality tables in the main room as the World Championship Qualifiers are on. Gary makes round two but goes out along with Scott Yardley. Eddie Barker makes a good run at it but exits in the last 32. Im not going to gripe about the EPA here because I haven’t the time. All you need to know is 512 players tried to get the four places, they paid £30 each (£15,000 roughly) and the world champ gets £10,000. Despite sponsorship and everything else the uk team championship still carries the same prize money as it did 15 years ago and the 3 man isn’t much different. Anyhow , I digress…..

The World Championship qualifier results are available at :

http://www.epa.org.uk/trials07mdrw1.php

http://www.epa.org.uk/worldq07mr5.php

13:05pm

After a couple of warm ups its back to the serious job of trying to beat Brad for money. I could tell he was still smarting from me chinning him at Racks on the Monday and he was psychologically scarred. We settled down for a first to 10 for a tenner while Dog turned over Tizzy on the next table. A horrendous fluke by me put me 5-4 up and I held the lead up to the point where it went 9-9 after nearly two hours of play. I put it to him that it was ridiculous to play a one off frame for the tenner . After all that time and such a tough match I asked to cancel the tenner and just play the frame off. But cementing his tag as the most hated man in pool he told me to forget that idea, broke and dished me for 10-9. Not a drop of remorse in his eyes as he demanded the cash. Twenty down for the weekend in money games and all of them Brads fault one way or another.

15:04pm

Feeling a touch devastated by the loss I needed a boost and who should walk in but Tony Price. I said hello, asked him how it was going and he replies “ DICKIE DAVIES … hows things ??” and walks off – I have no idea what that was about.

15:20pm

Dog and I head to the bookies to try and claw back some cash only to see Brads tip of the day come second. I hate him even more now and of course he hasn't backed it as he doesn't bet anymore. I’ll get him while he sleeps. :x

16:40pm

As the practise room fills up everyone else from the side arrives plus the Slough Renegade teams. Steve Carmichael, Trevor Dias and Del stroll in. James Harness, Scott Yardley, Dean Hardesty and Rod appear and the beer flows. Brad tucks up John Shiel for another few quid by convincing JS he only needs a two frame head start in a first to ten and beats him easily. He couldn't stop grinning from the moment JS said ‘yep, sounds ok to me’.

19:45pm

A night out in the town is organised and after my spaghetti bolognaise on toast (£1.07 a can in the mini mart !) I get cleaned up. Im looking good in the old mirror, however unnecessary abuse about my ‘bowling shoes’ ruins my self-esteem.

There must be about 20 of us in total from around the Slough, Maidenhead and Marlow leagues and when we are about to leave only three of us are actually going out. The rest cry off one after the other and even at reception waiting for the cab Dog has some sort of mental breakdown that involves holding a dustbin lid in his hand and moaning “I cant do it lads, I just cant go out”.

20:30pm

Its me and the Bear at the Weatherspoons and that's it. The pub is called the Troll Cart and looking round at the clientele I can see why. We make a vow to take it easy as we are playing tomorrow. Gary calls to say he is on his way and arrives at 9pm just in time to buy us both our fifth double vodka and red bull. The vow was as worthless as sticking Pat Phelan on the first frame for the Irish Club.

01:45am

The three of us plus Scott are cutting a rug on the dance floor at the Pier Tavern. We are getting no action whatsoever from the locals which is no loss considering the state of most of them. Ive never seen so many people with such bad teeth. Everytime a woman smiles its like starring at the gravestones of the Adams Family cemetary. Some African bloke seems interested in us and he Billy Oceans his way in our general direction. A quick ‘goosing’ and he disappears almost as quickly as he came.

03:40am

Gary and I make it back to the van to be greeted by the smell of chilli sauce and microwaved Asda Chicken Pakoras that Brad has polished off half an hour earlier. A cup of tea and a banana is consumed before I finally collapse into bed around 04:15ish. Thank goodness we are not the first match on in the group as I need six hours sleep minimum. We are old hands at this game and know that the opening match wont finish until at least 11am and no one is going to be stupid enough to wake everyone up too early are they ?? :shock: