Parfitt Speaks

Gav Hamer. Gav Bloody Hamer. Coming here, thinking he’s king of the hill. Apparently he’s one of the nice guys. Well he wasn’t so nice tonight. Threatening me, telling me he was going to have to put his dog down. Apparently he’s already paid the squad this week’s win bonus from his own pocket. Said Frank had promised him three points. Apparently, because of that, he now can’t afford to feed his pooch, so lethal injection is what’s happening.



Reminds me of this time I went round to Broon’s house. We were sat there watching a bit of Ben and Holly whilst discussing our aims for the season. He was getting stuck into a Yorkie, one of them ones with nuts in because he’s a real man’s man. I’m not into all of that shit though, so I was just freebasing some crack.

Anyway, this demonic thing comes charging into the living room like Lewis Hamilton chasing a bit of skirt. It looks like the result of Yoshi and Pickachu’s ill-advised night of passion, but Broon assured me it was his new collie pup.

Anyway, this Collie, or Yoshachu or whatever it is, it starts mounting my leg. Well if Broon was a competent pet owner, he’d have called the hell spawn off straight off. Instead, he’s laughing like a hyena at a Lee Evans show. There’s nuts and sharp edges of Yorkie firing out of his mouth like bullets from a bloody tommy gun. I’m trying to dodge the crumbs, but I ended up taking a few shots in the ear, and all the while this vision of hell is nailing my leg like a Roman nailing Jesus on a cross. Well in the end Broon calls his missus in to catch the devil dog thing.

She’s pretty hot to be fair. Well if you can overlook the hairy chest and the adams apple. Looks a lot like Gordon Kinnear at Liverpool, but marks out of two, I’d give her one. I said as much to Broon, and because his Hell hound had already had a go on me, he said I could spend some alone time with her. She was only interested in the Greek method though, and I’ll tell you something else as well. She didn’t just look like Kinnear, she sounded like him too.

It was fun while it lasted, but I don’t think I’d go back. Like I say, fit enough, but in a 10 pints of lager way, rather than in a Scarlett Johansen way.

Well anyway, Broon comes in just as things are coming to a close. He gave me an invitation to a fancy dress party he was holding the following week.

 I realised I had dyslexia when I turned up the following week. I was the only one dressed as a goat at his toga party. That was the last time I ever went round his house. Broon, what a complete shirt button.