Bounty not a Tropical Paradise for Hart 2

The second team was away to Bounty, located in a tropical paradise on the outskirts of glimmering Basingstoke.

There was a new dog in town (Paul) with freshly clipped claws, & playing like a trusty black family Labrador.  There was no biting in this one; only the nails of those in the gallery. The Dog v2 ran like he was a working game dog on a pheasant shoot with Prince Charles.  With the stamina he showed, his parents must have fed him on the finest pedigree chum since a pup. The game was an emotional marathon roller coaster with long rallies like they were going out of fashion. A fine deserving 3-1 win for the Dog.

Next up was Phil the Silver Fox who still looks younger than his silver locks might suggest.  He was up against another silver fox of similar age but not as good looking.  Our Silver Fox was striking the ball hard and kept away from the baying hounds for a respectable length of time. Both foxes played like wily old foxes but the tricky left handed Bounty fox proved to be a little more cunning with some good length and width. An unlucky 3~1 loss but being asked for ID In the bar was some consolation.

Next up was Ian the Mac daddy. Playing against an opponent who looked like a rare white leopard on the endangered list with his dark beard and white spots. He reminded me of Robin Cousins on ice with the way he moved around the court. Both players took the ball within an inch of its life with every shot, reminiscent of the power used on the spinner-specced SUV by Mrs Tiger Woods when she found out about all the strippers he had been ‘hanging’ with. Mac lost the first, came back strong in the second but just didn’t quite have the luck to clinch it. The third was also close – but no Monica Lewinsky cigar. Mac ‘went down’ well as he always does but a 3 0 loss.

Next up was USS Elliot.  Playing against a bald Swedish looking man, who looked like he drove a Volvo, Eliot thrashed the ball like a Dominatrix madam on a city banker in an S & M den. In the gallery was a TV crew, including a ‘beeper’ operator as the game was aired live. After the first game the operator had to retire with RSI due to the frequency of abusive language. Moreover rackets were thrown to the floor in disgust with the same venom as Wayne Bridge on discovering that Sir John Terry was practicing his ball skills with his wife to be. The Bounty player continued with his VOLVO like consistency and broke Elliot down. Sadly a 3 0 loss.

Last up was the marine machine Knight. Fresh from some altitude training and sports psychology camp deep in the Cotswold’s with Dog v1 (+ WAGS), he had some new regimes to stick to. His opponent was a kiwi who had a backhand worthy of a gladiator slaying slaves in a roman gladiatorial amphitheatre. This being the case ‘the machine’ had suspicions that the Kiwi was in fact the secret love child sired from a night in the squash cupboard between Liz Irving and Jahangir Khan. The Machine ran like a roman warrior through chest high pampas grass in the first game but it wasn’t enough… In deep moments of need, visions of red mist and splintered graphite were replaced with visions of patchwork quilt Cotswold’s countryside.  To add some variety during the moments of need the patchwork quilt countryside was replaced with visions of diving in the Indian Ocean with rare hawk-billed

turtles. Sadly a 3 0 loss, and with ‘the Machines’ empress wife spectating and the shame of loss, he was dispatched to return to the squash cupboard as punishment until victory is secured again on another day……

As we ate dinner with shimmering blue lights in the distance, it felt more like Vegas. We dined on spicy chicken curry along with some carrot pickle fresh from Pakistan. Unfortunately the taste of the Bounty was not as sweet as remembered as the TV advert with bounty trees and naked women. Overall a 4-1 loss but the second team will fight on and triumph again.

One thought on “Bounty not a Tropical Paradise for Hart 2

  1. Great article, very “cheeky” in places!
    I don’t wish to offend the author, but the writing style seems to have shades of Jeremy Clarkson …….the big difference being that (unlike Jeremy) they can carry it off and they can hold the reader’s attention. I think Clarkson attended the “star in a reasonably priced summer school”, school of writing; graduating with B-minus. I suspect the author, on the otherhand, may have studied at Bristol Zoo, tutored by Johnny Morris, Gerald Durrell and Richard Attenborough, graduating with “first class honours” and ending up top of the food chain.
    Please keep writing…..
    regards
    Fraser

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