Pop goes the winning streak, bang goes my sleep
Well Junior's amazing run of one win came to an end at about 9pm last night when the mighty Bristol City knocked Coventry out of the FA cup. That makes it played 7, drawn 2 lost 5, GF 9, GA 17 in his brief life. 2 Days before he was born we lost 5-0 to West Brom as well, but I can't count that. I'm scanning the sports pages right now to see if Adams has been sacked or not. I suspect the announcement will come some time today.
After the result I went to the spare room to sulk and reflect. 4 hours later, I heard the baby crying. Then I heard the wife talking. Saw the bedroom light go on. The cry and talking got louder. I knew what was coming next: the light burst into the spare room like an over-ripe zit being squeezed. I was informed that he was crying, there must be something wrong with him. I explained to the ball and chain that in human history, no baby has won the Nobel Peace Prize. Nor has one written a timeless opera. I think I am right in saying that there has never been an astronaut under the age of one, nor does one have any artwork displayed in the Tate Modern. In fact, the single thing that babies are good at is crying. They are experts at it, if there was a World Championship of crying, a nappy wearer would win every time. 'But he's been sicking up as well' I was informed. Well would you believe it, the next best thing that babies delight in doing is yakking. She just needed to mention nappy soiling and she would have won a prize. Anyway, I convinced her that his screaming wasn't due to him having a leg sawn off, he was just doing what babies do. He continued this for 2 hours, then promptly fell asleep.
I think he was trying to tell his old man that he desperately doesn't want to be brainwashed to support Coventry, like his granddad did to me. He was begging me to let him support Man United or Chelsea, it would be so much easier and the kids wouldn't tease him at school. Or maybe it was wind.
Because of all this, I slept through 5 renditions of the first three minutes of The Bolero and ended up being an hour late for work.
After the result I went to the spare room to sulk and reflect. 4 hours later, I heard the baby crying. Then I heard the wife talking. Saw the bedroom light go on. The cry and talking got louder. I knew what was coming next: the light burst into the spare room like an over-ripe zit being squeezed. I was informed that he was crying, there must be something wrong with him. I explained to the ball and chain that in human history, no baby has won the Nobel Peace Prize. Nor has one written a timeless opera. I think I am right in saying that there has never been an astronaut under the age of one, nor does one have any artwork displayed in the Tate Modern. In fact, the single thing that babies are good at is crying. They are experts at it, if there was a World Championship of crying, a nappy wearer would win every time. 'But he's been sicking up as well' I was informed. Well would you believe it, the next best thing that babies delight in doing is yakking. She just needed to mention nappy soiling and she would have won a prize. Anyway, I convinced her that his screaming wasn't due to him having a leg sawn off, he was just doing what babies do. He continued this for 2 hours, then promptly fell asleep.
I think he was trying to tell his old man that he desperately doesn't want to be brainwashed to support Coventry, like his granddad did to me. He was begging me to let him support Man United or Chelsea, it would be so much easier and the kids wouldn't tease him at school. Or maybe it was wind.
Because of all this, I slept through 5 renditions of the first three minutes of The Bolero and ended up being an hour late for work.
posted by SkyBlueSnowy @ 10:17 am
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