Message from the President
August 2014: Injury and Fitness Concerns
On Wednesday night you may have noticed the presence of the Moody Blue’s Consigliere on the side line conducting an assessment of the team. Ok. You may have confused him for a bald hobbit with a bong pipe but Dave Stewart was there. After the game he had some things to say. He highlighted the need for more fitness and also catalogued the ridiculous injury record we have this year. For fuck’s sake we’ve had to do a loan deal with the Mufti Blues to bring Kenny back from his Arabian camel rooting adventures (I admit that idea is looking less clever now).
August 2014: Injury and Fitness Concerns
On Wednesday night you may have noticed the presence of the Moody Blue’s Consigliere on the side line conducting an assessment of the team. Ok. You may have confused him for a bald hobbit with a bong pipe but Dave Stewart was there. After the game he had some things to say. He highlighted the need for more fitness and also catalogued the ridiculous injury record we have this year. For fuck’s sake we’ve had to do a loan deal with the Mufti Blues to bring Kenny back from his Arabian camel rooting adventures (I admit that idea is looking less clever now).
We’ve had people go down with bad knees, head clashes, man flu’s, self-send off’s, junior athletics injuries, sprained ankles, axe wounds to the hand and Bruce even fucking bit Toddy. Dave has considered all of this and has recommended a new fitness system commence. Following the game Ex-President in Exile Millsy alerted Dave to his new Red Arrow fitness regime. So to demonstrate our commitment on a date to be confirmed Millsy, myself and rubber hipped Stewart will test run this new course and feed back to the squad. This is not the first time this stupid fuckin idea has run through the mind-brain of Moodies Management. As a cautionary tale I will reveal an earlier report I completed in 2012.
Bordo’s Report
Ride 8.5 kms from Redlynch to Red Arrow. Slam a cabbies door shut while riding past (prick left his door open over the bike lane and had a dart on the grass). Enter Red Arrow. Struggle with helmet into backpack and lock on bike while deep breathing like a B-grade monster. Start Red Arrow. Get over taken by whippet lean person in first 50 meters. Right. Fuck you then.
First flight of steps – good. Second flight – good. Third flight – good. Forth flight – good…depending on your definition. Fifth flight – How long is this fucking thing? Oh look a pretty scrub hen.
Sixth flight – lungs questioning prior ride in.
Seventh flight – Brett questioning prior ride in. Eighth flight – LOOK AT THOSE FUCKING STAIRS. Ninth – Fuck. Tenth – Fuck you second scrub hen. Eleventh flight – sounding like Darth Vader. Twelfth flight – sounding like dying Vader. At this
time I was over taken by two short pudgy Germans who said hello. I say hello back. May have sound closer to, “Ffffiltthy dirty Hobbitssisss”. Who can say for Sure?
More stairs. Can’t see because of sweat. Make it to the top. Appear to have lost lower range of hearing. Start the decline. Lean looking Lorna Jane branded woman passes me. I decide to use her as a pace car. Downhill, I start going faster. She looks over her shoulder with a concerned
look. I pick up speed. Brett and lycra clad woman appear to be recreating film scene where Indiana Jones runs for dear life from concrete ball of death. She gets away. Come out of Red Arrow. Where the fuck am I? I apparently missed a detour sign. Walk back to bike. Start helmet and lock confusion again. Ride the 7 kms back to Redlynch via Stratford and fall off the bike in the drive way. Missus reckons it actually looks like I have lost weight that afternoon.
Sounds like a great plan Millsy. Look out for the 2014 Report.
Ride 8.5 kms from Redlynch to Red Arrow. Slam a cabbies door shut while riding past (prick left his door open over the bike lane and had a dart on the grass). Enter Red Arrow. Struggle with helmet into backpack and lock on bike while deep breathing like a B-grade monster. Start Red Arrow. Get over taken by whippet lean person in first 50 meters. Right. Fuck you then.
First flight of steps – good. Second flight – good. Third flight – good. Forth flight – good…depending on your definition. Fifth flight – How long is this fucking thing? Oh look a pretty scrub hen.
Sixth flight – lungs questioning prior ride in.
Seventh flight – Brett questioning prior ride in. Eighth flight – LOOK AT THOSE FUCKING STAIRS. Ninth – Fuck. Tenth – Fuck you second scrub hen. Eleventh flight – sounding like Darth Vader. Twelfth flight – sounding like dying Vader. At this
time I was over taken by two short pudgy Germans who said hello. I say hello back. May have sound closer to, “Ffffiltthy dirty Hobbitssisss”. Who can say for Sure?
More stairs. Can’t see because of sweat. Make it to the top. Appear to have lost lower range of hearing. Start the decline. Lean looking Lorna Jane branded woman passes me. I decide to use her as a pace car. Downhill, I start going faster. She looks over her shoulder with a concerned
look. I pick up speed. Brett and lycra clad woman appear to be recreating film scene where Indiana Jones runs for dear life from concrete ball of death. She gets away. Come out of Red Arrow. Where the fuck am I? I apparently missed a detour sign. Walk back to bike. Start helmet and lock confusion again. Ride the 7 kms back to Redlynch via Stratford and fall off the bike in the drive way. Missus reckons it actually looks like I have lost weight that afternoon.
Sounds like a great plan Millsy. Look out for the 2014 Report.