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“Bee swarm affects England’s first game.” Says Fabio.

 

With a heavy heart and even heavier kidneys, Fabio had this to say about England’s first World Cup match against Team America.  “Whassa widda the fouking bee malawkee, lov-a-dock govknaw!   Issa bloady nighter-mare outta dere init!!! 

The problem is far bigger than the England manager first thought.  The World Cup organisers hadn’t informed the teams that a swarm of ‘Trumper’ bees had invaded every pitch in South Africa (S/A), as they feared the games would be played elsewhere.  To cover up the noise these massive bees make, they had to come up with a device to cover up the row, before the matches were televised.  Unfortunately they failed, so they came to me for advice and a solution to the noise pollution.

But, let’s go back to where it all started.  Bees have been dying by the hive-load in Britain, or so the aprists believed.  I, on the other hand have unearthed the truth, when I was holidaying in the quaint village of,  Muchit-on-the-bog.  I overheard a quango of bees talking in the window of a bakery, and what I discovered I didn’t like.  They were German bees, and they were planning to stir up the redundant worker-bees, and draw on their support to blight England’s chances of winning the World Cup!   In weeks, millions of angry bees were on they way to S/A.  When they arrived, they mated with South African Trumper bee, so called because it’s the size of an orchestral trumpet, and then they began to swarm. 

Now the organisers of the games had a real problem on their hands.  “Oh bum,” they said, “how can we cover up the row?”  “Plastic trumpets mate,” said the tea lady.  “Piss off baldy,” they said, shortly after they sacked her.  And once she was neatly out of the way, they said, “Right, where can we lay our hands on 900,000 plastic trumpets pronto?”  A company sprang up, and the wedge started rolling in from all angles.  However, this was not the answer, and it’s lucky I stepped in when I did. 

We drew with the USA purely down to the back draft caused by the amount of trumpets in the ground.  Nine hundred thousand trumpets, that’s a lot of wind mate.  That’s why Green, the England keeper failed to save the ball.  He bent down to scoop it up and, POOF half of the crowd blew their trumpets at the same time, and WALLOP, he missed it!  As Fabio said after the match, “Issa lika bloady gayma ov a blou foatball outta dere.” 

As I listened to the game, I came up with the answer… “‘Speak to my agent’ passes it to ‘Prat-in-a-hairband’.  He heads it to ‘caught dogging’, ‘caught dogging’ dribbles the ball, and with his right foot and kicks it into the box, where the number 11, ‘Where’s me gloves mum’, is waiting to pick it up.  He chests it down for a volley which reaches ‘Tax dodger’ who knocks it on to ‘Under achiever’, who slips it passed ‘Closet shirt-lifer for a comfortable goal…

Soon the trumpet saga will end, trust me.  I won’t watching any games until they are banned.  If you want to listen to 90 minutes of, vreeeeeeeeerve vreeeve vreeeeeeeeeve vreeeeeeve vreeve, plus the highlights, be my guest.  But, I’ve solved the problem.  I’ve ordered 200,ooo jars of Robertson’s Rassberry jam.  When they arrive in South Africa I have instructed the games organisers to tip the contents of the jam jars into one enormous jar, and told them to make a hole in the lid.  That’ll keep the little blighters off the pitch!

‘Stuck on ears’ list:  Martin Johnson – England’s Rugby manager

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