Tuesday, 28 June 2011

The four housemen of the apocalypse and the egg and spoon race

It was sports day at school today, yes sadly we have come to the point in the year where we do silly things at school to try and keep us all amused before we all get the summer holidays off so we can go and do exciting things in the big world.

It is traditional on sports day for the parents to do the egg and spoon race. Napoleon Beelzebub supplied the eggs and the spoons this year because Mr Chambers who normally supplies them was cheating and super gluing an egg to a spoon for an undisclosed sum of money in a plain brown envelope for a particular parent who has won the cup four years on the run.  Anyway Mr Beelzebub supplied Ostrich eggs and ceremonial stone spoons from an ancient Madagascan tribe. It made the egg and spoons combined weight thirty pounds so they were a little on the heavy side. The headmaster didn’t have the heart to tell Napoleon Beelzebub they were not ideal and no one else liked so say anything either, Mr Beelzebub is not someone to upset and has the reputation of being a bit fiery. Mum did tell him once he was an IDIOT but she is allowed too for reasons I might explain in the future if I think of something really good.

Miss Fiona came forth in the parent’s egg and spoon race but only because I am led to believe the first three were on drugs. The headmaster deduced this from the fact they were able to lift the egg and spoon up with one hand. Miss Fiona only managed to pick them up by using an old yoga trick often used in the Himalaya’s by Buddhist monks in the fourteenth century during the period each year known as the end of eternal enlightenment when they hold the inter-monastery sports day.

Apparently the reason Nelson Beelzebub supplied the ostrich eggs and stone spoons for the parents race is someone annoyed him this morning by trying to paint the front of his shop, Napoleon Beelzebub’s Very Strange Victorian Curiosity Shop in a nice rainbow pattern. They said the mural of the four housemen of the apocalypse was upsetting the punters in the bookies opposite. But as mum says it is rather apt when you have just lost all your money on the three thirty at Chester that you should have a small reminder of the folly of gambling on the way out, not a rainbow with an elusive pot of gold at the end.

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