Thursday 28 October 2010

THE PIGMAN COMETH


As the great Julius Ceasar would have said had he been there: Venimus, Vidimus, Pingimus Pongimus, Vicimus.

Last night, in the Theatre of Tears, the Karma Krew uncovered new reserves of skill and determination to put a very strong opposition to the sword with maximum prejudice. Standard form in a Karmarama match report is to treat any vanquished opposition with utter contempt just to add insult to injury. Well this time GBH by the written word is not required. The word defeat doesn't even come close - it was devastation out there. Forget about alien vs predator, This was like 100 aliens and 100 predators bullying a 5 year old schoolboy. And not just any schoolboy. One with glasses, and a limp and with his hands tied behind his back. Yes, tonight ladies and gentlemen we put Monday night's unlucky defeat well and truly behind us. It was ten-nil. Ten to fckuing nil. Dix a zero, diez a cero, zehn bis null, de deu a zero. Old Man Leo, Desmond Douglas, inscrutable orientals of ISH - your boys took a hell of a beating. Yes, we whipped their butts!!! And not only that; tonight a new superhero was discovered on planet Karmarama. It was the night the pig became the man.

So, what actually happened, I hear you scream. Well the night began with a shock as it was discovered Old Man Leo wasn't playing. Argh! Three guaranteed wins down the Swanee. We kicked off regardless. Pigman against Flavia. She may be a pensioner but boy does she play well. After a match that see-sawed relentlessly, Justin came out on top 11-9 in the fifth with some fantastic controlled play. Game on! Next up McKellar, then Bervoets. No problems. Three nil up and cruising, and the oppo's third player still hasn't turned up. Looking good....

Next round of games were not so smooth. Pigman was looking dead and buried, but came from behind, and weathered a barrage of smashes to win his second match of the night. Braveheart McKellar struggled big time against Flavia's no-spin pimples game, but finally out on top with a nail-biting, wall-kicking final game that was a veritable feast of all-out chopping. No fancy serves or indeed any topspin required. Then Dutch Hardcore dished up some more dutch hardcore to make it six-nil.

At this point our minds were half way to the pub. Then the opposition star player, none other than Desmond Douglas himself, the scourge of Karmarama for many a year, and with the wingspan of an albatross, finally turned up. Pigman first up. Lamb to the slaughter. 3-11, 3-11. Oh dear! The beating we were all dreading, but expecting. Then something magical happened. "Shurprishingly,I shink hish vorhand might be shlightly shit" suggests Dutch Hardcore. Suddenly, Pigman is a man possesed by genius, and with a comeback matched only by Lazarus, wins the next three games with style; probing Douglas's weakness like that Nazi with a dentist drill on Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man. Jaws dropped. Thesaurus websites crashed under the weight of requests for alternative supelatives. Clocks probably stopped. Could we granny them? Braveheart vs Douglas next up. 3-1. Not easy, but not hard either. Then a Dutch materclass of the quality of Vermeer, Cruyff and Martin Lafeber. With oohs and aahs, and cries of "that's first division material" ringing out, Douglas was sent from the table a seriously beaten man.

Could he recover for the doubles? Don't be daft, you know the answer already. Braveheart and Dutch Hardcore were never remotely threatened and brought up the 10-0 in style.

Our heroes then retired to the pub, buying Pigman drinks all night until he could take no more (2 points of Peroni f.y.i.) to celebrate his coming of age as a Ping Pong superstar. Pigs might fly? Tonight, one surely did!

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