Monday, June 13, 2005


Back to the old skool

Murphy's, Osaka's fairly bog-standard (ahem) Irish bar pulled a bit of a coup today. After the Japan vs Ireland rugby match at the Nagai stadium, the whole Irish team went there.

Let it be said, when it comes to football, I'm English; when it comes to rugby, I'm Irish. The Irish rugby team have been disappointing me all my life with their near misses and whoops-no-grand-slams.

I've never been more disappointed than today though: when I decided it was time to leave the bar and went to retrieve my football kit bag, I realised that they'd stolen my ball.

Having your football stolen at secondary school by the fifth-years who smoke is traumatic enough. Having it stolen by an international rugby team is even worse. Particularly when they're indulging in such witty egg-chasing humour as whacking each other with bar stools.

So it was with some trepidation that I held up my bag and asked which funny fucker had nicked my ball (those exact words.)

I got my ball back (a tad on the grubby side, but whatever) and I'm alive to tell the tale.


Thats what i would have said, in the taxi, four miles away, quiet enough so the taxi driver couldn't hear. That would show them.

Good work Daniel san.

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