The Diary of a Demented Man.

Part 4.

Ballyholme Hacienda, Saturday, 18th March, 2006, 20:00
How good was that? To beat the Sassenach in his backyard with in the last minute by a finger tip is truly awesome. Add to that an earlier try that never was and they must be crying in their beer. Obviously no running today!

Ballyholme Hacienda, Saturday, 19th March, 2006, 15:00
Big Sunday lunch – quite obviously no running today either! Pour a wee tipple down for the Triple Crown.
Did you hear about the Irishman who went into the sports shop at Twickenham immediately after the match and asked for an Ireland 2006 Triple Crown Rugby Jersey? “Sorry sir, we don’t have any,” was the polite reply. “What, sold out already?” quipped Paddy.

Bangor, Tuesday, 21st March, 2006, 18:35
The madness has beset me for over a month now and I have discovered there is indeed a concept known to some as purgatory, but to me it has manifest itself in the form of the hilly streets of Bangor. When I avoid the fleshpots of the town, preferring a modest lifestyle of bread and gruel, I am rewarded with enough stamina to jog a few miles. But, should I err and sup the Devil’s buttermilk, I find that every breath I take, every move I make, every vow I break, brings its own special torture.
Take last Thursday for example…..wrecked after one mile. And the past 24 hours………early to bed, up with the dawn, porridge for breakie, soup and whole meal bread for lunch and two laps of the extended route of death are endured with stoic determination.

Bangor, Thursday, 23rd March, 2006, 18:30
This has been a very busy week on every front. So not much running and, until this morning, very little to write about. The young pretender agreed to accompany for a change, and we chatted as we jogged merrily around the leafy suburbs of Bangor. Well, he chatted and I spat out short monosyllabic answers between gasps for air, but it did make the journey pass more quickly. But where was I…oh yes, this morning. Well, there I was at work, trying desperately not to look out the window in the morning, in case I had nothing better to do in the afternoon, when the phone rang. Now it had not rung for some time – I was beginning to think that BT had cut me off, but it was Tommy Bowe, asking to speak to me. Well, after a short discussion we agreed that he was in fact eligible to join the Second Barrier Crew but that he would have to buy his own shirt. In the mean time I agreed he could borrow mine but for publicity purposes only. Left it that he would call in the following morning for an interview.

Belfast, Friday, 24th March, 2006, 11:15
Young Tommy has just left the office, after having dropped in for apple pie and coffee… oh yes, and the obligatory photograph. Turns out he knows quite a lot about rugby after all and we all think Daft Eddie was mistaken in dropping him from the Ireland squad. He seems a very pleasant young man and there was definitely a spring his step as he walked across the car park – I think honorary membership of the Second Barrier Crew has will do him the world of good.

Ravenhill, Saturday afternoon, 25th March 2006
The afternoon got off to a flying start with a surprise meeting with Crafty Nick and supporting act. Both admitted to reading the diary and are clearly in need of therapy.
Ulster are scoring at the rate of a point a minute and the bootleg stout is disappearing fast. However, no sooner has it all gone than the scoring dries up as well. By the time we are half way through the second half we are half bemused that half the team are loitering in the rain while the other half impersonate a bulldozer in an attempt to push the Welsh over their own line. Some 20 minutes later, exhausted, bruised and battered, Ulster retire to their corner and settle for a points victory. Tommy, of course, scored a great wee try and remains Ulster’s top try scorer. “Rock on Tommy!”
Decided that my love hate relationship with the West English is at an all time low. Made a mental note to deal with all of them most severely on the next full frontal assault on Hamburger Hill.

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