Yorkshire Carnegie
Observations of a Fat Bloke Virgin
Famous fat Bloke
By "Bran"
August 1 2009
Well I’m sat at work a couple of days after my first fatblokes tournament, and a bit strange, but I don’t have a lot to do. So I thought why now write up an article on the fatblokes? To start with, this isn’t going to be about the games with a second by second commentary, because I can’t remember all that much of it. For those of you who have wondered what it’s like, this is the read for you.
To start off, I have thought over the years that I should make the pilgrimage but never gotten round to it until this year, yes I was this years fat boy’s virgin. On first hearing I had been branded such I was a tad concerned, but fortunately this was not as I feared (a virgin for a fatboy) The next worry, If you were invited camping by some blokes and woke up with a used Johnny hanging from your bum would you tell? If you say "no" and they still invite you…..
I planned to travel with two mates of mine, and make a good weekend meeting up with the chaps down there, but both friends had to drop out, one due to business and they other has an alcohol related issue, which may have been put to the test over this particular weekend. As I’m sure many will remember, Friday’s weather was somewhat clement, and I think it rained all day up here. There were many work mates laughing at my intentions to camp that very night. Luckily enough 4 hours into the journey and a strange yellow orb started to appear across to my right, at first us wary travellers threw stones but to no avail I called the love of my life as the fear crept into me, she had no idea either as the rain was still falling up north. Well a little over 4 and a half hours and I made it to Reading Abbey rugby club, if only I could find somebody I knew! Within half an hour I was tented, unpacked, changed and in the bar. A quiet lot these rugby players. There were many different groups all standing/ dancing partying in their own way to the live music. The strangest part for this was how quiet us Tykes boys and girls really are, while absolute mayhem carried on all around. At one point, we watched as a naked ‘fat-bloke’ body surfed the crowd, and no matter how long your arms he wasn’t going to jab anyone in the eye. The night continued on a similar standard. As the band left we managed to grab the mike and substituted ‘show me the way to Amarillo’ (Leeds Tykes) .The night wore on. To be honest I was losing faith, my plan of a quiet half, then cocoa and bed was really being destroyed, but not for much longer. I staggered blindly to find my tent.
(have you ever looked for a particular tent in almost pitch blackness? Even as I unzipped I was prying there was nobody inside) Apparently I missed the naked rugby at three in the morning complete with aluminous ball(s).
Saturday morning came slowly into focus, the one down side there is no provided breakfast on the Saturday, chumpy and co tried in vain to cook a packet of bacon using the sun, but as they too began to focus out came a camping stove and we all watched as they ate bacon sandwiches. There seemed to be much hanging around as the camp slowly came to life. The local youths ball crashing in and out of our garden, but on the whole they were polite and always asked for it back. As the sun rose high into the sky ( I was glad my stones missed) the games began. As a newby to such things I was a tad surprised by the walking try’s and faked missed tackles, but as the screams to ‘DIVE’ rang all around I realised the intention of the day. Our first game and Leggs was quickly injured and sought peace in the bottom of a can. The games were fast and furious and he wasn’t the only player to look to the Foster’s isotonic lager as a means to prolong his performance. I was however abstaining. Not because of the games (I was a voyeur) but the thought of starting on the bar at 11o’clock looked like a long day for me.
About twelve I was passing a door way and was called in by a complete stranger waving an empty glass, not just any glass but a magic plastic glass, that when held in a particular way filled with amber nectar. The rugby continued. A couple of hours in and we had a brake in play, and in stepped the lovely lady’s. I have admit I didn’t see too much of their games as I was still mesmerised by the magic glass, Even when I gave it away and got a new one it STILL filled itself back up. By this time more and more of the boys were injured Red bull (alias fog-horn) had also succumbed to the magic glass and on numerous occasions said he was heading for a lie down. However the lure of lady’s on a rugby pitch kept him up, if only he had found the big hose-pipe to dampen the potentially muddy filed.
I have to make an observation here. LADY’s rugby. Erm I spoke to a few and all though they all seamed very nice once on the pitch the lady part vanished. The long blond haired girl with a ponytail quickly put it in a bunch! Lady my arse!
Eventually our last game was played and I decided to head to my tent just to make sure the sleeping bag and pillow were where I’d left them- all was well.
An hour or so later a shower and change and I decided I should see who was about. The fancy dress was a bit more subdued compared to Friday nights do, and most of us stayed out of the bar making occasional visits to see who was inside(the magic glass trick was still going a storm). There was a red glow from all around.
Leggs didn’t surface, so a new ‘brandy-snorting commissionaire’ was appointed and I attempted to pass my inauguration. I don’t know how well I did, I don’t recall a lot of Brandy going from the spoon, I do remember the intense pain shooting up my nose to the back of my skull (a bit like an ice-cream headache) the numb nostril and feeling like shit for twenty minutes. Best to try the glass trick with some shorts. Down in Reading there is a strange phenomenon with time. Once last orders are called the clock starts going backwards; much to my relief. Unfortunately they had run out of ice so I had to have another Whiskey added to the glass to keep the first one company….Now where did I leave my tent?
As previously, Sunday Morning appeared all too quickly I didn’t feel too bad until I bumped into Tim trying to scrounge a coffee. He did try to run away from me screaming about ‘did you see his eyes?’ After a swill a freshen up I promised not to look in the rear view mirror all the way home, I thought Beelzebub was staring back at me.
What can I say, the weekend was fantastic and for anybody who has never made it you really should try I will be putting my name down again next year if at all possible. A massive thanks to those who played; and apologies to the girls, as I didn’t take photos of their games.
Maybe next time I’ll try and get Monday off so that I don’t have to cope with work the next day.
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01/08/2009 16:25
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Badger's write up is here if you're interested.
[www.rugbynetwork.net]
