Return of Vernon the master blaster.Billed as the return of Vernon, when we finally managed to get hold of "the Master Blaster" on the phone (about 8.30) he admitted he'd forgotten all about it! A likely story - I think he was pulling a sickie myself - like Ronnie O'Sullivan, he can't take the pressure. He'll be head-butting match referees soon! With Lorna also conspicuous by her absence (damn, it was quiet in there!) we were left with a nice balance of three gals (Karen, Lynda and Julia) and three guys (me, Adam and Dan). After some warm-up frames (including Julia and Lynda taking nearly an hour to pot one ball . . . or something) we had enough time to play an 'all-plays-all' tournament. Most of the time we were laughing too much to remember the exact scores and how the games went, suffice to say that Adam won with a 6 for 6 ratio. My excuse was I took too long to get going, with the result that there was a 3-way tie for second between me, Dan and Jools. I'm delighted to (smugly) announce that I romped home in the three-way second-place play-off, helped by Dan's form falling apart at the last hurdle (he'd already beaten me in a friendly AND the round-robin game!). Fun was had by all (I think!) and the report cards - according to this scribe -are as follows: Adam - Mix the arrogance of youth with the luck of the devil and you have a tournament winner. But seriously, a worthy successor to Vernon "The Master Bottler" Ellis. Adam, you now have to take on the mantle of defending champion - the defending Adam Champion, in fact. Ha ha ha - I'm so funny! Dan - Mix the arrogance of youth (again - there's too much of this youth stuff around!) with too much beer and you have a good start but a shaky finish. Take solace Dan, your jump-shot was the envy of the pool-hall. Why you were trying basketball shots is beyond me, but hey, each to their own! Westerham Fats (Me) - I never was really any good at pool. At least, that's what I said trying to get my excuses in early. But somehow I managed to walk SOME of the walk, to match the talk I was talking! To be honest, I was relieved that I could still reach under my belly to hold the cue! Karen - Quite possibly the unluckiest player on the face of the planet, Karen managed to lose not one, not two, BUT THREE games by foul-potting the black when miles ahead. I'd be sympathetic, but it was damn fanny! Serves her right for burping when others were playing their shots. Julia - There's potential there. Potential as a bar-maid, anyway. My worry is that Jools' hands were shakier than Shakin' Stevens . . . on a trampoline . . . in a tube train . . . during an earthquake. MORE alcohol is needed, I think! Lynda - What can I say. Lynda is to pool what Stevie Wonder is to darts. Actually, that's not fair - Stevie could probably throw straight with some coaching. Our beloved Auntie Lyn started the night unable to hold the cue straight . . . and it went rapidly downhill from there. Still, she did manage to "accidentally" maneuvere herself into a position where the hunky guy on the next door table kept poking her backside with his cue . . . about six times, I believe. Fun for all - more people required next time. Lynda needs an audience! Report by: Andy | Updated by: Andy
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